Considering I didn't get arrested, or have to acquiesce to the secret TSA two finger vaseline hand shake, naked and shivering, in a room with the furniture bolted to the floor and a one way mirror on the wall, frankly I didn't care if I never saw it again.
But I'll be damned if it didn't finally arrive in the mail today. Frankly, I never expected to see it again.
The mag on the left is the one the TSA found in my bag at the airport, resting on the bubble wrap envelope. It arrived today. The mag on the right is my backup mag...loaded. Hornady critical defense hollow points in case you were wondering. (hey it's a 9, I'm looking for all the whoop-ass I can get out of it.)
And, yes, I do carry in my own house.
When I get to the point where I have a gun in every room, I won't have to be so anal about it.
Everything is Better in Texas.
Even the TSA.