Wagon Box Postscript

So much happens on the road – I forgot one of the best, albeit secondhand stories, from the owner of the Wagon Box. One night, about 60 Bikers, leather clad, showed up at the Wagon Box and hit the bar. Now this is Wyoming, and all the patrons are armed to the teeth. (The night I was there, the 20-year-old piano player came in with a 1930’s six-shooter, and ammo, belted to his waist.) The patrons casually cleared their holsters, anticipating trouble. At closing time, the manager went over to the bikers and asked them when they planned to leave. The leader blurted out — As soon as we finish BINGO.

They proceeded to distribute Bingo materials, 5 bucks a card. My writer friend, who spends a good deal of time at the Wagon Box, decides to join. Bingo starts and before you know it, my friend raises his arms and yells BINGO. The whole place , patrons and bikers, goes silent, and then bursts into cheers. The Wild West.