An eccentric feature of the new gun laws is that people entering the state capitol can skip the long lines of tourists waiting to pass through the metal detectors if they show the guards a license-to-carry permit. In other words, the people most likely to bring weapons into the building aren’t scanned at all. Many of the people who breeze through are lawmakers or staffers who actually do tote concealed weapons into the offices and onto the floor of the legislature. But some lobbyists and reporters have also obtained gun licenses just to skirt the lines.
I’m one of those people.
In the spring of 2016, I signed up to take a class at Central Texas Gun Works that would qualify me to carry a weapon. There were about thirty people in the class, including six women. Most of the day was spent learning the Texas general firearms laws, which are more nuanced and confusing than I expected. One can’t carry a gun in amusement parks, hospitals, sporting events, school buses, bars, a polling place, a court, a correctional facility, or “within 1000 feet of a correctional facility designated as a place of execution on a day of execution if proper notice is posted.” Private businesses, such as supermarkets, can ban guns from their premises; Whole Foods has done so, but Kroger has not.
One of the surprises is that if you have a handgun in your car and you’re drunk, it doesn’t matter if you’re unlicensed; but if you are licensed, you are liable to be charged with a Class A misdemeanor, which can mean a year in jail and a $4,000 fine. “A lot of my students decide not to get the license because of that,” our instructor, Michael Cargill, told us. He showed some cautionary real-life videos.
