Shy Ann - Days 12 and 13

Before going further, I'll help you with the pronunciation of Cheyenne so you can say it correctly in your head. Cheyenne is pronounced "shy-ann", as in, a girl named Ann who is shy. It is not, as I believed going into the city, "kai-in", like the pepper.

For those who don't know him, Wes is a friend of mine who used to bartend at 100 Laurens in Aiken. He and bartender Ian used to run the place when I first started going downtown. I've never been too much into crowds, and it was a quiet bar, so I spent a lot of time there and ended up friends with both of them. I had no idea Wes was in Cheyenne though. When I posted a Facebook status about washing my hair in a restroom sink, my location was tagged at Fort Collins, a city 45 minutes south of Cheyenne. Seeing that, Wes messaged to let me know he was there, and the people he was staying with said I could stay a couple nights. Being glad to visit an old friend, and always being happy about staying in a house, I accept. It's early morning though and I'd planned on going to Rocky Mountain National Park for the day. I figure it would be best to get dirty in a National Park before going to a home with a shower rather than going to a home with a shower and immediately getting dirty the next day, so I tell him I'll go to the park and probably end up in Cheyenne around 5 or 6:00p.

Arriving at the park, it's cold, wet, and windy. I have plenty of protection for my upper body and feet, but all my pants are cotton, which not only breaths in the cold air but also absorbs moisture, so one fall in the snow and my legs are numb until I can either change my pants or have to pee. I'd intended on getting something polyester before hitting any snowy trails and I'm already late arriving, so I decide to leave the park and buy pants instead.

After more typing in a Starbucks (tried a Tazo Green Tea: hated it), I ask Wes where I should go. He tells me to meet him at work. Following the address, I arrive at what appears to be either a package store or a bar. Walking inside though I find out it's a package store AND a bar: my mind is blown.

For those who don't understand my shock, having a package store and bar together is illegal in South Carolina. Wes tells me that here, they're all combination stores. Not only does this make stocking easier for the bar, but for the customer, you have every type of alcohol available in the bar that's for sale in the package shop and drinks are significantly cheaper. As soon as I walk in, Wes orders a tequila sunrise with Patron for me, the drink I most frequently bought at 100 Laurens. At 100 Laurens though, it would cost 10$. Here? 6.50$: this city is amazing.

"Yeah, everybody in this city drinks like crazy. The first day I woke up, I turned on the TV and there was a real dog in a cowboy hat with a shotgun on his side advertising a package store: that's when I knew these people loved to drink."

Wes goes on to explain that even though the city, and he believes the entire state, love to drink so much, he's still never seen people get ask drunk here as they do in Aiken: way to go Aiken, keep up the good work?

Wes's job at the store is to run the package side of things. He also handles the drive-through: yes, a drive-through in a package store. I'd seen one of these before, in Georgia, but here, I think it's safe to say they're more prevalent.

The day I arrived happened to be both Valentine's Day and Friday, so the place was swamped; there weren't 5 minutes someone didn't come by the drive-through. Wes still managed to introduce me to the manager, JJ, and tell me that this is the only real Irish bar in town. As soon as he said, "Irish bar", I thought of the movie The Departed. JJ wears a cap and athletic jacket, suddenly looking very much like Frank Costello. I decide I should take extra care to not piss anyone off at this bar; I really don't want my wrist smashed into the pool table.

Wes has to work until 12 and lets me know, "You stay around here all night, and you're gonna have something to write about." The words, "Be kind when you write about us," are also spoken. I spend the night drinking by the cash register, talking with Wes when he's not working, and he's right, I did see things worth writing about. One of which was a 40 ouncer of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I didn't even know Pabst was made in 40s and am curious about who would take the time to drink it. I jokingly ask, “How much is that? 1.50$?” Wes tells me, “2.50$.”

Wes has been gone from the south for 9 weeks and is glad to see a familiar face:

"I tell you I had to drive through 2 feet of snow to get to work, and you understand. I tell people around here I had to do it, and they say, 'So what, start working.'"

The lowest temperature Cheyenne has had since Wes arrived was -22 degrees Fahrenheit. With wind chill, it was down to -30 something. Today hasn't been bad at all though; Wes and I laugh knowing we're getting better weather in Wyoming than everyone we know in South Carolina (ice storm). Later in the night, South Carolina also has an earthquake; Wyoming is a paradise!

Later in the night, I meet Dameione: he's one of the people Wes has been staying with. Dameione is from South Carolina and went to high school with Wes; that's how they know each other. Dameione has a life partner, Troy, who is also from the south, but they've been living in Wyoming for years now where they opened Morris House Bistro, a southern cooking style restaurant. When Wes was having money trouble, Dameione invited him to work at the restaurant (which he does as well) and stay in their basement until he'd saved some up; this is how Wes came to be in Cheyenne. Dameione also practices family law, and through this, met 15 year old Josh, whom he and Troy agreed to take custody of about a year ago. Today, they all live together less than a mile away from the package shop, so some nights, tonight being one, Dameione, Troy, and other crew members gather at the bar after the restaurant has closed. Tonight, someone else has joined. I don't remember her name, which is probably for the best, so I'll just call her Suzanne. Suzanne wants to make sure everyone knows how good she looks for her age. She'll be turning 56 (or something) in 10 days and still manages, she says, to have a tight vagina. Both Dameione and Troy theorize this has something to do with her husband being a plastic surgeon. She also lets us know Tom Jones has a huge "schlong". Someone later remarks, "I'm gay, and I didn't even wanna know that."

After Suzanne leaves the table for a moment, Troy lets me know, “Some people are our friends, other people just happen to be around us.” Dameione request, “Please be kind when you write about us.”

Suzanne rejoins and starts to tell us more about her life as Wes gets off of work and sits down. Shortly after, he leaves, saying not so quietly, “This is the most boring story in the world,” and goes to play Pacman.

Eventually, Dameione gives the rest of us an opportunity to leave. I ask Wes, “Do you think he's got a way out of there?” Wes says, “Dameione's real patient, but once he can't handle anymore, he'll let her know.” A few minutes later, Suzanne walks into the bar with Dameione behind her yelling, “Get out of my way woman, I've gotta pee!” I'm not sure if I'd call that letting her know, but it did work.

At a certain point I have to pee, too and see a feature of a urinal I've never seen. I decide to take a picture:

Once the bar begins closing, we head down the street to Dameione and Troy's home. There's a couch in the basement for me to sleep on, but I want to get some blogging in first. Awaking in the morning, I'm propped up, staring at my laptop, which I'd turned on right before falling asleep: my first night staying in a home since last Friday, and I still ended up sleeping at an angle.

Waking up around 11:00a, I spend most the rest of the day catching up on blogging (which I finally do), taking a real shower (which I doubt I'll ever not appreciate again), and doing laundry. Wes spends most all his days working and going to the Y since he's trying to save money, but at a certain point ask if I wanna go get something to eat. I say yes and we go by Taco John's; a fast food chain here similar to Taco Bell. Instead of Tex-mex, Taco John's is West-mex. That's not a joke, it said it right there on my churro wrapper.

While eating, Wes says, "I wish I could show you around town, but I really haven't looked around myself. If you want, we can just drive in a direction and see if there's anything cool out there." It sounds like a good idea, so we drive down one of the main roads until we hit a dead end where I take this picture:

On the way back, I see fire in the distance. It's an intentional flame coming from an oil refinery.

Afterwards, I continue my business at the house while Wes heads to work. Around 11:00p, I go to the bar. Wes, Troy, and Dameione are all there, today, with new people, and luckily, no sign of Suzanne. The Olympics are on; some guy is doing a distance ski jump. Someone remarks, "What is even the point of this? They should just call the Winter Olympics, going down snow and ice really fast," which we agree is right except for curling. I point out, "The reason people like curling so much is because it's a bar sport. It's like darts on ice. You guys should open it in the parking lot and get tons of business." Troy points out that, as much as Wyoming loves to drink, it's still not legal to drink outside.

After viewing a shot-ski, which is a snow ski with 4 shot glasses attached so that 4 people have to each lift the ski and drink at once, the night slowly comes to a close and we return home. Wanting to watch a little TV before going to bed, I awake hours later, having once again fallen asleep in an upright position.

Trying to make 2 nights my limit on any visit, I say thanks and bye to Dameione and Troy, and Wes and I go to Dairy Queen for lunch before I leave. "I'm proud of you dude, it takes some big balls to do what you're doing." I've been told that by a few other people, but I'm still not sure if it really takes big balls or just a smaller than average brain.

Leaving, Wes says, "I'm gonna turn into my grandma and take pictures of you," and so he does. We say goodbye, and I head south, back towards Rocky Mountain National Park.