A gross story

When we were in Wyoming we went to the Cowboy Bar in Meeteetse, WY. The bar was very interesting, with an original brandname bar that had been purchased at a World's Fair. I don't remember the details, but the story was interesting. (Isn't his blog informative?!)

We talked to the local historian/bar owner/book author for quite a bit about the history of the area. We were planning on climbing Francs Peak, named for historic local land owner Otto Franc. He moved out west because he had consumption; his brothers and he and moved to NYC from some place where he was a duke in order to import bananas.

Note: Francs Peak does not have an apostrophe, although one would argue it should. It does not.

Also Note: I'm not going to do too much fact checking on this blog, because I don't have the time. I have a really good memory for some things (dates, b-days, phone numbers, events I was part of, and the general outlines of stories) but not so good of a memory for details surrounding some outlines. Don't quote me directly on a college thesis, because some of what I might say could be not quite right. For example, I'm almost positive Otto Franc and his older brothers moved to the US to import bananas, but maybe it was something else.)

Also Note: I like hyperlinks, because I then don't have to go into detail myself, but I feel like I have some semblance of an argument should someone accuse me of being less than thorough.

Anyways, we ended up eating at the Cowboy bar twice; the food was decent, the company at the bar was interesting, and frankly there weren't very many options for dinner. After we ate the first night, V and I went back to the bar later to try to by some firewood and I chatted for quite a bit on the front deck with the Fat man, and the young couple who were living on the Antler Ranch in town. While we were talking some drunk guy came out and started arguing with the fat man about why they couldn't arm wrestle in the bar, yet the fat man could shoot off cannons. (For fear of the tables breaking is why, if you are curious). There was no real explanation as to why a cannon was shot off in the bar earlier that afternoon, but the fat man held firm to the "No Arm Wrestling" rule.

The next night we at there again. Randy and I each had a very good open faced chili hamburger (see, I told you I had a good memory). As we were all paying at the bar on the way out, we noticed that there were all sorts of bottle caps nailed to the ceiling, yet a space where two were missing. "What happened to those two?" I asked, curiously.

THE GROSS STORY: The day before, a couple hours before we ate at the bar/restaurant, someone brought in the ashes of some dead person who's final request was to be blasted from a cannon in the Cowboy bar. This seemed like such a good idea, that some other random bar patron decided that he two had some dead person ashes that should also be blasted. So yes, the fat man did allow the ashes of two dead people be blasted from a cannon across the bar. He told us, laughing, about how the explosion was much larger and louder than anyone would have expected, knocking two bottle caps off the ceiling and how ashes were DRIFTING AND FLOATING ACROSS THE BAR, LANDING ON THE TABLES AND IN PEOPLE'S DRINKS!! And yes, this was just hours before we ate there. There is no way we would have eaten there had we known about the dead-people-ashes!