Alright, you get off the plane in Vegas, you’re jet-lagged as hell, and your stomach is protesting wildly at the onslaught of stale peanuts it’s been forced to digest for the past 6 hours — what is the first thing you’re gonna do?
If you answered, “Grab a gun and shoot zombies” — you’re close. Eat tacos was the answer we were looking for — because if your stomach is gonna get out of line, it’s gonna get a healthy dose of habanero hot sauce (and might I reccommend the T&T Hell Sauce (so freaking good)) to put it back in its place (and you should probably have your current mental state evaluated. Really, zombies before tacos? Please…). It’s dangerous to fire a weapon without a belly full of Tacos. Plus, if you are going to be standing in line at The Gun Store for three hours (One of those hours being in the hot Las Vegas sun) waiting to receive your Zombie Killing Certification, passing out in the line is an automatic fail; you should probably make a pit-stop at Tacos and Tequila. But remember kids, alcohol and semi-automatic death dealers don’t mix, so maybe hold off on the margaritas. I know it’s hard, since alcohol is way more abundant than water here, but try anyway.
So how does one become a Certified Zombie Killer?
Go to The Gun Store in Las Vegas, throw down some cash, prove that you can handle 4 types of weaponry, and the T-Shirt… err “Certification” is yours. And although certification does not guarantee a cameo in The Zombie Hunters (but how cool would that be, right Jenny *Hint*), you’ll at least have a bit more peace of mind in case the world is suddenly plunged into a Zombie Apocalypse. The load-out is as follows:
- 20 Shots with the M1911 .45 Pistol
(See the Zombie Stripper above for my shots)
- 20 Shots with the “Zombie” AR-15
(See the Zombie Clown above for my shots)
- 5 Shots with a 12 Gauge Slug Shotgun
(See the Zombie Nazi above for my shots)
- 50 Shots with an 9mm Uzi SMG
(See the Zombie Soldier above for my shots)
I should also mention that we had a reservation at Bouchon at the Venetian shortly after being at the firing range. Long story short, didn’t have time to head back to the hotel room. Allow me to paint a picture in your mind:
- Ripped Black Label Society vest
- Ripped shorts stained with tattoo ink from Montreal
- Still holding the targets from the firing range.
- Smelling like guns shot residue (and probably sweat from standing in line)
- Sandals (luckily no socks at least)
- Bowler Hat (what am I… a barbarian?)
I think it’s an understatement to say that I was under-dressed. Didn’t stop me from having the best meal of my life though. Seriously, the best… go there… stop what you are doing and go now! I’ll meet you there.
Oh! One other thing, did I mention that I sat at the table right next to the table that Anthony Bourdain sat at in this video! Alright, maybe not a big deal for you…