On Friday I was in the local Safeway store when from across the produce department someone caught my eye and called out, “You’re Joe Huffman, right?”
I sort of recognized him. I had bumped into him numerous times at the Seattle airport back in the late 90s when I was flying back and forth to/from Redmond/Moscow (ID). Tim lived in San Francisco then but had gone to college at the University of Idaho and his girlfriend was still there. So he frequently spent a weekend in Moscow with her and would take the same flight on the same small plane from Seattle to Moscow that I did. We had another common connection in that his buddy Seth that he went to high school and college with was then his roommate in San Francisco had worked for me when he was in college at the U of I.
Tim told me he would love to do some Boomershoot stuff sometime and if I ever wanted some help to let him know. I told him that I was thinking about going out on Saturday to do some tests and he would be welcome to come along. He sounded very interested.
Later in the day I was hitting up all the places that sold ammo in town looking for some CCI Stinger ammo. I use that for testing of the sensitivity of Boomerite. By moving closer or farther away I can adjust the impact velocity at the target and determine if the mixture is more or less sensitive that other mixtures I have used. At one of the stores I was asked what I was looking for and I told him. He said he was sorry but they didn’t have any. Would one of the other products they had work instead? I told him no, I needed some very high velocity stuff. “What are you trying to kill?”, he asked.
Do I tell him the truth or avoid the question? This has happened so many times. Buying 15 boxes of zip locked bags, or a 50 pound sack of stuff at Costco can make people curious and I always worry they won’t want to sell to me or they will call the cops and I’ll spend an hour or five explaining to them.
I told him the truth and his eyes got big and instead of backing away he said, “Are you the Boomershoot guy?” I confirmed it and he introduced himself, shook my hand, and told me how pleased he was to meet me.
I went home and told Barb that two people in one day recognized me. With a big smile on her face she said, “I’m married to a rock star.”
Somehow I was under the impression rock stars had more groupies. I’d put some effort into increasing the number but I’m afraid the number would drop from one to zero at the first indication I was making the attempt.