I was in a situation where gun retention was in question. And it wasn’t in practice. It woke me up and I bought this knife less than a week later.
But before I tell you the story I have to give you the progression leading up to the event.
A couple weeks ago--okay, I say a couple weeks but it was probably a couple months--I told you about some Force-On-Force practice that my husband and I had done.
In one of the scenarios that we practiced, my husband went directly for my gun as I was drawing it.
The fight was on.
We ended up on the floor (which is where most fights end up anyway) wrestling over the gun.
It was a sobering exercise, especially when my husband was successful is taking my weapon from me.
Afterward, feeling very much like a failure because if this were a real scenario I would more than likely be dead, we went over what I did wrong and what I did right.
My husband asked me what I could have done to have regained control of the gun.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I was just hanging on.”
“Yes, but what else could you have done?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you missing?”
I thought for a moment, and shrugged, “Well, if I had a knife I could have cut you.”
He gave me that knowing, you’re-catching-on, look and said, “Well, why didn’t you have a knife?”
I smiled and said, “Because I don’t want to cut you.”
He said, “True, but did you at least think of a knife as an option while we were on the floor, wrestling for the gun?”
I was shocked to find that I hadn’t. Not once did the thought cross my mind. It was a sobering lesson and one I thought of often, but I didn’t put much consideration into the kind of knife that would be optimal for that kind of scenario.
Since that day (and even before then, really) I’ve always had a knife on my body, somewhere, but not a designated “self-defense” knife. I assumed that any knife would do in a pinch, and while this is true, I overlooked how quickly situations can go down and the inability to present a folding knife that’s stuck in the bottom of your pocket in less than a second.
Anyway, back to the incident... The owner of the gun shop I now work for was handed down the business from his father. I’m not sure if the father still owns the property or not (I assume he does) but he comes in at least once every day and hangs around.
The father was in the shop that day and walking behind me as I reaching for a pen that was rolling across the counter-top and getting ready to fall off the counter. As the space behind the counter is pretty tight, it's not unusual that someone with put their hand on your shoulder or side to push you aside a little to get through. I assumed this is what he was doing and thought it was just unfortunate that he had decided to push me aside and accidentally found my gun.
He patted my gun a few times through my sweater and that's when I realized this wasn't just a simple matter of trying to squeeze by me.
I turned just as he grabbed at the butt of my gun through my sweater and started yelling at me. And by yelling I don't mean he was just scolding me, he was YELLING. His son heard the commotion and came over.
What happened next was a little surreal as it happened so fast.
He was still yelling, saying something to the effect of, "There is NO reason to have a loaded gun in here," and telling me to take it out to my car right now.
Another employee was saying that maybe it wasn't a good idea for me to put it in my car, but maybe I should put it in one of the safes.
The son was trying to explain that I had a permit and it was completely legit.
At that moment the father said, "I don't care what she has," and started pulling my sweater back and reaching for my gun with his other hand.
This is when all bets were off. As I was reaching for his hand and turning my gun side away (though I couldn't go far as I was still backed up against the counter), his son grabbed him and pulled him away and tried calming him down.
I didn't hear what was being said because I was heading for the door.
When I returned a while later, the son tried to apologize and make up some lame excuses for his father, and the father (thank goodness) was gone (at least for a little while).
My hand was going for his because there was no way in HELL I was letting him touch my gun.
The options started coming fast and I thought of my knife, but only later did I realize that I could have never gotten to it in time as the situation was over in less than two seconds (probably less).
Now, sure, this was an angry old man going for my gun in the semi-controlled setting of his own establishment and it probably would never have escalated to the point where I needed my knife, but it was a sobering experience anyway.
Within one week I had my TDI knife and it has been my constant companion ever since. I’v put some time into practicing drawing the knife and hopefully a defensive knife class is in my future.
Monday, November 5, 2007
