The Podunk Bar Beckoned

Today had the first rumblings of what I hope the rest of my trip will entail. I awoke late and took my car in to the repair place for one last time. As my ex-wife was off today, I had made plans to have lunch with her before I leave. After being completely forgotten about by the car rental company's pickup service, I finally called back, got the car and headed out to my old town, to quell my craving for a Brewskies Special at the local restaurant.

After a very pleasant lunch, and a Guinness, I decided that it was a nice day for a nap in the park. One nap later, I headed out to Washington (Missouri) to do something I had wanted to for years. Back when I lived in a nearby town, I would regularly drive to a tiny airport on the outskirts of Washington to watch the small planes come in and go out. On the way to that airport, I would pass a small bar on the side of the road, and I promised myself each time that one day I'd go to that bar. Well, I was in Warrenton, it was a nice day, and this may have been the last chance I had to go there.

As far as road-side bars go, this one was rather typical. Gravel parking lot open to the highway, various Budweiser and Coors Lite neon signs in the windows, you wouldn't be surprised if they also sold worms. That kind of place. I don't know what the draw was to this particular place, but off I went. I pulled into the parking lot, and went inside. There were two old men sat at the bar, and a lady. I took my seat and scanned for the bartender, who promptly stood up from her barstool and walked around the other side of the bar. "Can I get you something?" she asked.

I confirmed my suspicions with her that all they had in the way of beer was Budweiser and Coors products. I opted for a Bud. A short way down the bar, I overheard the two old men talking about how Old Willis had crashed his car in a ditch, and how all you could see of the car from the highway was the rear bumper. For you concerned readers, Old Willis was just fine after the incident.

One of the old men left shortly thereafter, leaving me and the other guy at the bar with the bartender. We all awkwardly started to watch some movie on TV with Gene Hackman in it. The lady behind the bar took the remote and turned the volume up. After a little conversation about what was happening in the movie, I struck up a conversation with the old man. We sat and conversed over the last of my beer and a glass of water. I told him why I was at the bar today, that I was leaving on some travels, and he gave me some great recommendations of things to do in the northwest. I learned of how, during a flood about 15 years ago in Washington, "a railroad tie came right through that window, (pointing to a window on the far side of the room) and went out through that window (pointing to the opposite window)". He told me about his vegetable garden, and how his beefsteak tomatoes kept growing so big their skins burst. They asked me the inevitable question of how a Brit finds himself in a small bar in Nowheresville, MO. We had good conversation, nowhere to be, and nothing to do but sit, have a cigarette, and talk.

I hope I continue to have experiences like this. It's good to meet real people.