


Then, just as I was feeling comfortable around all the guns, I walked by a cabinet and froze. I talked to gun owners and sellers and started to understand their fascination with firearms. I picked them up, still surprised by how heavy some were. When I said I would go to jail in Austria for buying a Glock without all the hard-to-obtain permits, he looked at me sadly and said he was sorry.Īfter about an hour I was getting used to the guns. America loves your guns, the seller told me, praising their good quality, fair price and ease of handling. I picked one up and let my finger run over the engraved word “Austria” on its slide. One of the tables at the gun show displayed hundreds of Glocks. So most Austrians never think about owning a gun. You must undergo psychological and gun safety tests and risk a fine of up to $4,000 for misuse of a firearm.

To obtain a firearm, you have to be a hunter, sports shooter, in the Army or a police officer. In a country of 8.8 million people, only 306,000 own guns (compared to nearly 400 million guns owned in the U.S.). Yet, it would be nearly impossible for me to own a Glock or any handgun in Austria.Īustria has very strict gun regulations. My reaction may seem ironic to many Americans aware that I come from the country that produces the most popular handgun in the U.S. As I eyed thousands of firearms in front of me, I instinctively took a step back: It felt forbidden to even look at those arms. I remember touching the Walter PPK pistol in 2014, but it felt weird so I gave it back to him.įour years later, I was in Chantilly, Virginia, visiting my first gun show as a reporter for my newspaper back home. Before I came to the United States from my native Austria, the only real gun I had ever seen was a pistol belonging to a friend who is a policeman in Germany.
