So I'm in Chicago to shoot in the North American FITASC Championship (FITASC is the European version of sporting clays)
Now I know it's not nearly as glamorous as flying cross country to smoke cigars with total strangers, but it's what I do.
I get to O'Hare Airport and they've lost my gun. Really? It's in a big black octagonal container. "Nope, we can't find it anywhere".
It took me about five minutes. Next up, lunch, then on to desert. More to come.
