Berkeley, California

Crashed at Jerry’s house, my freshman year roommate at UCI! Now, Jerry has an interesting hobby: he’s an avid shooter, as in pistols and rifles. He took me to the range to fire off at some targets. I was hit-and-miss with the revolver, but got better throughout the day. His 1911 pistol is excellent, very accurate and reliable.

For those who haven’t been to a range: it’s actually a very safe and orderly event. People fire at targets, with required ear protection (provided for free at this range). A ceasefire is called, and everyone has to leave their weapons empty, unlocked, and open on the counter. A bright yellow plastic piece is placed visibly in the barrel, to prove that the barrel is empty. All involved stand back behind a line while the rangemaster inspects each weapon to make sure it is safe. Only then are people allowed down range to set targets, and none are allowed to even approach their empty, barrel-filled weapons.

Guns carried from spot to spot must be empty and pointing upwards. Having the barrel of a firearm pointed towards anybody, no matter how obviously empty the gun is, is considered a serious offense. You could get kicked out of the range or banned. Of course, nobody was ever hurt by an empty gun; but plenty of people have been hurt by “empty” firearms. This is why there are so many redundant steps: you cannot touch the gun, you cannot touch the unloaded gun, you cannot touch the unloaded gun with obstruction in the barrel.

Anyway, then I proceeded to find out that I can hit a target basically every time at 100 yards with a rifle. Booya. Pistols are much harder.

After leaving Jerry’s place, I drove to Berkeley to meet up with Paris, who I worked with at Barnes & Noble. Paris is awesome. Paris is good people. But on the way to Berkeley, I stopped to get some flip flops for shower use. Totally forgot about those… whoops.

I also ended up driving through Oakland a bit. Many parts of Oakland are getting quite nice and trendy, and the same real estate push in the rest of the Bay Area (and SF) has been happening there, too.

That wasn’t the part I drove through.

The part I drove through had a bunch of guys standing on a street corner, wearing the same colors.

I didn’t stop at that Starbucks.

Instead I went and partied with Paris and Friends, and instead of being the 4^th person on the couch, I popped the Jeep’s tent and slept there. Bay area real estate and young people’s salaries, right?