Howdy pardner

So after filling out an application, sitting through 2 interviews, taking a personality evaluations test, and peeing in a cup, Wal-Mart has decided that my seven years as a manager in the high tech and commercial security field is not enough to serve as a security guard at the Super Wal-Mart (maybe you need to provide your own cape), and my 17 years as a photographer and lab tech are not enough to work the one hour photo machine.

I knew I should have brushed up on my peeing.

Upon hearing this report, I decided to drown my sorrows the old fashioned way- a dark, smokey bar… a glass of ice, the ice swirling in a deep amber liquid… a small straw to stir it all up…the sound the ice makes as it clinks the sides of the glass…the way the bar lights dance as they reflect off the whole, beautiful sight…

So there I was in front of my Diet Coke with a cherry at Matt’s Saloon on Prescott’s Historic Whiskey Row. Matt’s Saloon is what’s called a Cowboy Bar. And oddly enough, I met a cowboy in there. He was an old, skinny, white cowboy with a huge hat.

He was drunk and loud.

My kinda’ guy.

I had a date that night with my wife and I had about an hour or so to kill, so I went on a pub crawl and started at Matt’s.

I sat, drank my Diet Coke, and listened. I had hoped to hear some tales of the Wild West, life on the range, learn about poking cows and punchin’ doggies.

But old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat had other problems on his mind- had his stock been rustled? Had his stake been grubbed?

He looked my way, set his drink down and sneered at me from under the brim of his great big hat. He walk..no, he moseyed on over and leaned against the bar next to me. He leaned in close. I waited, maybe he was going to aks me on over to join’ up with his posse, maybe hunt down some varmints.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat said “Conniger”. I said nice to meet you, I’m Santos. He said “No dummy. Conniger. Who played him? I know it wasn’t Tom Sellick”. I said what? “Conniger- the western. Who played Conniger. It was some guy, but it wasn’t Magnum, it was the other guy”. I told him I know the title, but sorry pardner, I ain't seen the flick. “Well it’s right on the tippy tip (yes he said ‘tippy tip’) of my tongue”.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat then approached the rest of the folks in the bar, asking them if they new the guy that was on the tippy tip of his tongue that was the other guy not Magnum. No one did and the barkeep, a young gal knee high to a whippersnapper told him to shut up and sit down.

Well, you know what? He did. And as soon as his butt hit the stool he yelled “Sam Elliott!” and walked out of the bar.