The only time I ever had a gun pointed at me in anger (well more in suspicion) was in Gulfport, Mississippi in December 1995.
I was there with a friend who wanted a quart or so of bourbon. You have to understand that I know nothing about Bourbon. On the few occasions I drink spirits I prefer Bombay Sapphire Gin. So when my friend specified a certain brand of Bourbon sold by the quart in a plastic bottle I had never heard of the brand and thus had no idea what label I was looking for.
We pulled up outside a bottle shop and I went in. Found a bottle toward the back of the shop that looked like it might be right. So, being the naive Aussie that I am, I took the bottle toward the front of the shop with the intention of displaying it and looking for the approving nod that would indicate I had the right bottle.
What I heard was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked! And a voice yelling, imperitavely, to come back now or I'm gonna shoot!
It was the wrong brand but I bought it anyway. And drank about half of it. It's amazing the galvanising effect having a gun pointed at you can achieve!