It finally happened. I dropped my gun.
Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 2:07 am
Well, crud. I finally had an accidental drop on Wednesday. My hubby had his last summer/fall at the State Fair, and I posted about it on here OF COURSE! Now he gets to rub it in. I think my drop was worse than his, though. All he got was a few idiot marks on his weapon; mine is now disabled. Ugh.
So we went with a couple of friends to the Fort Worth Museum of Art. We had just walked in, and after the long drive my female friend and I decided to hit the bathrooms before roaming around. When I am carrying and need to use a public restroom, I head for the stall farthest from the door. Unfortunately for me, their stalls had no convenient place for me to place my gun, and I was frustrated because I couldn't just let it stay in the holster (it will fall right out without the tension from my belt), and nor could I place it in my pants, as I'm so tiny my pants give me the same problem -- the gun flips right out!
Anyway, I finally decided to lay it on top of the TP dispenser which appeared to have a flat surface and was only a couple of feet from the ground. I placed it on top and let my hand hover a couple of inches above it until I was satisfied that it wasn't going to move. And wouldn't you know it...the second I turned away, BAM! Smack on the floor.
I know I didn't hit it with my body or clothing because the TP dispenser was placed almost next to the commode where you couldn't hit it unless you were already seated. I stared at it in disbelief, hoping it hadn't gone off. The whole place was tiled, so the sound was so loud you couldn't tell what exactly what happened. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the hammer was still cocked back and there were no holes in the stall wall.
My friend two stalls over goes, "What was THAT?"
She knows I carry, so I thought this response would suffice. "Um. Something not good."
"Oh? What was it?"
She was being a little bit slow. There was someone else in the bathroom with us, so I was praying she wouldn't just come out and ask if it was my gun. "Uhhhh...I'll tell you once we're done."
"Well, is it bad?"
"I'll tell you WHEN WE'RE DONE."
"........OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!"
Finally. Thank you, God.
I gazed at my poor 1911 on the floor and saw that there were two pieces laying next to it. Aw, crud. I picked up what I immediately recognized as the thumb safety and one of the bars that had once been attached. I saw the second bar (the one that pins the beavertail safety) was also broken and dangling out of the hole.
I sighed as I realized that I would not be carrying today and I needed to return to the car. At least my hubby was carrying in case anything happened. Geez. I heard the other person in the room leave, and quickly ejected the magazine and racked the slide to eject my chambered round. As I was reloading the extra round into my mag, another person entered the room. I coughed loudly as I slammed the mag back in so as to mask the distinctive "click" it makes. I put it back on the floor until I was done in the stall, then reholstered it with the hope that the beavertail pin wouldn't fall out on the trip to the car. It was sliding pretty freely and the grip safety wasn't going to work without it.
I did my business and exited the stall as the other person was leaving the room. Just me and my friend now. She was already by the sinks, staring at me with big eyes.
"Was that your gun?"
I double-checked that the room was empty. "Yes."
"What happened?"
I told her, with much cursing, what had happened, and showed her the thumb safety and bar that had broken off.
"So are you still going to carry it?"
"No. With the way that pin is hanging in the beavertail safety, it's not going to be very useful to me even if I need it. I already unloaded the round from the chamber. I've got to go back to the car."
I exited the bathroom and whispered to my husband that I had broken my gun and needed to go to the car. He smiled at me and started giggling as he followed me out to the car. I showed him what happened once we were back in the car and I had tears in my eyes because, darn it, I love that gun! He simply said, "At least it didn't go off. We can fix the safety. It's okay."
Yeah, but what am I going to carry until I get it fixed? Guess I'll have to dust off my old revolver...! I couldn't really enjoy the art because I kept dwelling on what had happened. I stashed the gun in the glovebox and haven't gotten it back out since it happened. I can't stand to even look at the poor thing. :-( I've already emailed STI in the hopes that maybe, maybe, it's covered under warranty. Probably not, but hubby told me to at least give it a try.
I'm VERY glad I didn't have an AD, and do consider myself lucky that the ONLY thing that happened was a broken safety. Whew! So from now on if I can't find a good spot to put my gun, I'm thinking I'll put it ON THE FLOOR next to the wall and hidden from view by my feet. Yeah, floors are nasty, but it's better than dropping my gun. Yikes.
So we went with a couple of friends to the Fort Worth Museum of Art. We had just walked in, and after the long drive my female friend and I decided to hit the bathrooms before roaming around. When I am carrying and need to use a public restroom, I head for the stall farthest from the door. Unfortunately for me, their stalls had no convenient place for me to place my gun, and I was frustrated because I couldn't just let it stay in the holster (it will fall right out without the tension from my belt), and nor could I place it in my pants, as I'm so tiny my pants give me the same problem -- the gun flips right out!
Anyway, I finally decided to lay it on top of the TP dispenser which appeared to have a flat surface and was only a couple of feet from the ground. I placed it on top and let my hand hover a couple of inches above it until I was satisfied that it wasn't going to move. And wouldn't you know it...the second I turned away, BAM! Smack on the floor.
I know I didn't hit it with my body or clothing because the TP dispenser was placed almost next to the commode where you couldn't hit it unless you were already seated. I stared at it in disbelief, hoping it hadn't gone off. The whole place was tiled, so the sound was so loud you couldn't tell what exactly what happened. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the hammer was still cocked back and there were no holes in the stall wall.
My friend two stalls over goes, "What was THAT?"
She knows I carry, so I thought this response would suffice. "Um. Something not good."
"Oh? What was it?"
She was being a little bit slow. There was someone else in the bathroom with us, so I was praying she wouldn't just come out and ask if it was my gun. "Uhhhh...I'll tell you once we're done."
"Well, is it bad?"
"I'll tell you WHEN WE'RE DONE."
"........OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!"
Finally. Thank you, God.
I gazed at my poor 1911 on the floor and saw that there were two pieces laying next to it. Aw, crud. I picked up what I immediately recognized as the thumb safety and one of the bars that had once been attached. I saw the second bar (the one that pins the beavertail safety) was also broken and dangling out of the hole.
I sighed as I realized that I would not be carrying today and I needed to return to the car. At least my hubby was carrying in case anything happened. Geez. I heard the other person in the room leave, and quickly ejected the magazine and racked the slide to eject my chambered round. As I was reloading the extra round into my mag, another person entered the room. I coughed loudly as I slammed the mag back in so as to mask the distinctive "click" it makes. I put it back on the floor until I was done in the stall, then reholstered it with the hope that the beavertail pin wouldn't fall out on the trip to the car. It was sliding pretty freely and the grip safety wasn't going to work without it.
I did my business and exited the stall as the other person was leaving the room. Just me and my friend now. She was already by the sinks, staring at me with big eyes.
"Was that your gun?"
I double-checked that the room was empty. "Yes."
"What happened?"
I told her, with much cursing, what had happened, and showed her the thumb safety and bar that had broken off.
"So are you still going to carry it?"
"No. With the way that pin is hanging in the beavertail safety, it's not going to be very useful to me even if I need it. I already unloaded the round from the chamber. I've got to go back to the car."
I exited the bathroom and whispered to my husband that I had broken my gun and needed to go to the car. He smiled at me and started giggling as he followed me out to the car. I showed him what happened once we were back in the car and I had tears in my eyes because, darn it, I love that gun! He simply said, "At least it didn't go off. We can fix the safety. It's okay."
Yeah, but what am I going to carry until I get it fixed? Guess I'll have to dust off my old revolver...! I couldn't really enjoy the art because I kept dwelling on what had happened. I stashed the gun in the glovebox and haven't gotten it back out since it happened. I can't stand to even look at the poor thing. :-( I've already emailed STI in the hopes that maybe, maybe, it's covered under warranty. Probably not, but hubby told me to at least give it a try.
I'm VERY glad I didn't have an AD, and do consider myself lucky that the ONLY thing that happened was a broken safety. Whew! So from now on if I can't find a good spot to put my gun, I'm thinking I'll put it ON THE FLOOR next to the wall and hidden from view by my feet. Yeah, floors are nasty, but it's better than dropping my gun. Yikes.