Pure Americana
By A Yahoo! Contributor, 1/30/07
A small, quaint place that looks like it belongs in a Larry McMurtry or Cormac McCarthy novel, on the edge of a big cowtown. People often line up out the door as if they were handing out money or some addictive narcotic. The dark dinning room is about 40’ x 40’, with a clawfoot bathtub in the middle with assorted ice cold beer heaping over the top of the rim. The grease stained walls are cluttered with posters, signs, bumper-stickers and business cards from long ago while the tables and chairs wobble under the elbows of cowboys, bikers, lawyers and doctors. I suppose appetite spares no social distinctions. The waitress is friendly, I guess like most folks are in that slice of the country, but far too busy to hang out for long as she buzzes around taking orders and ferrying trays loaded with cholesterol and smiles.