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Here’s the most interesting post I found while searching for “bars fort worth” on Facebook Monday morning:

“Ok, soooo, apparently BJ’s on Heritage Trace in Fort Worth has an establishment decision that you can open carry in the bar as long as your (sic) not stupid! I think that’s fucking wonderful!”

I don’t know the woman who posted that. But when I read it, I was very curious about a couple of things. First, if her completely unsubstantiated yet “fucking wonderful” revelation was indeed true, why did the “establishment” –– I assume she means the management of (at least) that particular BJ’s Restaurant and Brewhouse –– choose to allow customers to wear their firearms in full public display? Second, what were her specific reasons for being so excited? Was it a legal issue with her? Or does she feel safe only if she’s near someone with a pistol neatly holstered and fastened against his or her waist, possibly opposite a belt-clipped OtterBoxed smartphone?

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But then I imagined having to message this complete stranger, who, if I were a betting man, probably has dramatically different political views than I do. Rather than devolve into mutual fury faster than you can say, “Because Benghazi, stupid,” I chose not to bother her.

What I did do, however, was go to the BJ’s near Heritage Trace and ask a bartender about it, after a couple drinks, anyway. The guy’s name was Phil. He was tall, bearded, and bespectacled, and when we got to talking about beer, he said his go-to style was red ales, because once upon a time, Killian’s was one of the most exotic beers to be found. After a couple pints of the chain restaurant’s house-brewed Piranha Pale Ale, I asked him if the Facebook rumor I read about BJ’s newly gun-friendly environment was true.

“I don’t know, actually,” Phil said. “I’ve definitely never seen anyone bring a gun in here. In fact, since they passed that law, I’ve only seen a gun in a restaurant once.”

So who knows. If you have an open-carry permit, you’ll just have to wear your gun at BJ’s and see who freaks out about it. If it’s just the customers you’re offending, and the manager doesn’t make you leave, belly up to the bar for a root beer or whatever it is you drink when you choose to bring a gun to a bar. Why you’d rather wear a weapon to a bar instead of drinking alcohol is a mystery to me, but your reasons are yours to have.

Frankly, I was disappointed because I really wanted to see the kind of people who wear guns to chain restaurants, and I wanted them to validate my mental demonization of them. I wanted to see the casual domestication of a person who thinks he or she has the fortitude to end someone else’s life in a hail of bullets, potentially fired over a plate of fried calamari. I wanted to see that ominous declaration of a particularly strident, fanatically held political belief, silently proclaimed in the matte-finished crosshatch of a pistol grip poking out from the side of some Under Armoured abdomen. I wanted the open-carry bogeyman to be everything I resent about the McMansioned, Olive Gardened, Best Boughtened sprawl metastasizing across North Fort Worth, the white, male, Republican, born-again, probably goateed, definitely inconsiderate garbage pile running me nearly off I-35 with his F-250. I wanted to see that monstrous depiction in real life and maybe have a decent pale ale and a delicious asparagus and portabello salad, because high cholesterol forces you to make compromises.

I didn’t see that guy, and, I admit, it’s a pretty unfair stereotype. There are people I care about and respect who carry concealed weapons without the politics, who keep a gun in their car or under the cuff of their jeans, not because it’s “wonderful,” but because they believe in their right to defend themselves. I concede on concealed carry, because “guns” is how it is now, more than it ever was before. At the very least, I trust the concealed carry contingent to save their own lives (and hopefully mine, I suppose) a lot more than I do the boob who thinks an AR slung over his back is going to keep the rootin’ tootin’ outlaws from killing people at a Bennigan’s happy hour. But if it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna duck when the shit goes down. I hope you people know what you’re doing. –– Steve Steward

 

Follow Steve @bryanburgertime.

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