Guns and Firecrakers

When I first arrived in Antigua Guatemala last year I heard a lot of bang bang bangs. My first instinct was to duck and hide behind a car or corner or whatever was handy. This instinct is informed by a couple of facts. The first is that from 1984 to 1990 I worked as a private patrol officer in Los Angeles. I wore a slate grey uniform, a kevlar ballistic vest with a custom (for my boob shape) made shock plate that fit over my chest and heart, a belt with two pairs of Peerless handcuffs, a PR24, and a Smith and Wesson Model 15 .38 4 inch revolver. I had a LA police commission issued badge and I drove around in a patrol unit and responded to all kinds of calls. As part of this job I had to qualify quarterly with my revolver in a shooting course that presented several situations and types of shooting. I also practiced on my own to ensure I qualified with high marks and maintained some reputation in a world of men and rampant sexism. I still have the .38 on the top shelf of my closet along side an 18 inch Remengton 870 pump action shotgun (the kind the cops use). I have not fired either of them in years and I keep no amo in the house. In my life I have also fired at one time or another, a .44 Magnum, a 3030 lever action rifle, a 3006 rifle, many .22 rifles, and a 9 mm semi-automatic handgun. All a long time ago in what, in many ways, feels like another life. All this to say, I have been around guns. A lot when you look at the totality of my life. I have heard all kinds of guns fired at close range and in the distance. It is a distinct sound and different caliber guns sound different sounds when fired. Also in the course of my years wearing a uniform I studied police tactics and developed certain responses as a result. I can quickly discern the difference between cover and concealment (the latter wont stop a bullet) and still am quick to move in that direction if I sense a firearm threat. Despite the years between me and that uniformed experience, those instincts have lingered. There is something very profound about being 19 years old and putting on a uniform and vest and then coming to understand someone might want to kill you because of it...without ever knowing your name. This is especially so for a sensitive sap like me. So that is the first reason I dive for cover when I hear bang bang bangs. The second reason is I live in Oakland, CA, recently ranked the fifth most dangerous city in the US (Detroit made number 1). I also live just north of a tougher part of town. When you hear a pop in Oakland, unless it is July 3, 4 or 5, it is most likely a gunshot. Again, the old instincts reign. Hear a pop, look for and move to cover. Back to Antigua 2007. After being told that the pops and bangs in this town were from firecrackers, I unlearned that association enough to not dive behind a car at every pop I heard. Firecrackers are a ubiquitous thing in Guatemala and especially so around the holidays. Folks need little excuse to light a string and watching it dance in the street. "Hey! I´ts Monday! Lets celebrate with a string of firecrackers!" You hear them all the time day and night save for around 2-9 in the morning. So when I found myself on the Pacific coast of Guatemala in the small beach town of Montericco, I thought nothing of it when, starting at about 10pm, the air rang with bang bang bangs into the early hours. Firecrackers I thought. Those Guatemalans love their firecrackers and after all it is Saturday night. I thought nothing of it and focused on my books and solitaire games. In the morning I mentioned the firecrackers, that popped all night, to my guide Sender. He looked at me and shook his head. "They weren´t firecrackers?" I asked surprised. "No. Boracho (drunk) men" was his response. Drunks shooting into the night for the thrill of it. I nodded. Ok. I thought about the fact that I was sleeping under a polapa roof. I thought about all I had learned about shooting tragedies when I wore a uniform and studied such things. I thought about all the drunk men I had seen the night before...some of them with pistols strapped to their sides. I guess my ears no longer easily discern what they used to. I no longer go to the firing range or the desert and shoot at targets. I guess I can no longer easily discern the difference between a gun and a firecracker ignited at some distance. But this I do still know, whatever goes up, must come down. And it don´t come down slow if it is a lead slug.