oh man.
soo
Stockman's bar!
There are apparently several dives by this name across the American West.
There's the Stockman's in Missoula, which operates with the sales pitch of, "liquor up front, poker in the back." Cool vibe. Divey for sure, and otherwise more of a college dance club. Seems like a good place to get chlamydia.
There's a Stockman's in Pinedale, which I unfortunately didn't visit, tho it's among the reasons I'd like to spend at least one proper night in this town.
But the Stockman's I'd like to discuss today is the Stockman's in Walden, CO aka North Park:
as far as dives go, this place dives deep. The building has got to be over 100 years old, the floors are creaky and slanted, the bathroom is more just a broom closet with a urinal in it, the pool table is decorated with plenty of stains. There's an old Pac-Man machine in the back too. The juke box offers both kinds of music: Country and Western. The focal point of the interior is a large wood-burning fireplace. The neon lights over the bar are appropriately flickery. The place reeks of stale beer and cigarettes, even tho supposedly no one has been able to smoke in there in years. Oh, and it's cash only.
We came upon this place hungry on the tail end of our drive when we initially tried to go to the new BBQ joint in town but it was closed. Upon ordering a round of Coorses, we ask the bartender why. She wasn't shy about explaining, "cuz their bbq sucks so bad that when my family tried it my grandma and I both literally shit our pants. We couldn't even hold it long enough for the 4 block ride home!"
okey dokey then. What would you recommend to eat here?
"Try the Rocky Mountain oysters. By far the tastiest balls I've ever had in my mouth!"
Well thanks for the rec, but I've already had plenty of...uh, fried food in my mouth today. I see the menu says, "ask about our various pizzas." What sorts do you have?
"Oh, well honestly, we just keep some frozen pizzas in the cooler that we'll throw in a toaster oven late night if someone is gushered enough to want or need it. Since the kitchen is still open, I suggest some other menu item instead."
Howsabout a cheesesteak! Oh, and another Coors.
She went on to tell us all the local gossip - the best fishing spots, wolves, sand dunes, snowmobile trails, and how she's lived in Vegas and Chicago and Maui but keeps coming back to North Park anyway cuz of how much she values the "lawlessness" of the place. She even candidly enough recommended if we're hungry here again, "don't come eat our food, try the bowling alley next time, their food is better."
As we're leaving, she's getting off her shift too. Into one cowgirl boot, she shoves the wad of cash earned that evening. Into the other boot, she slides a large Bowie knife it turns out she had behind the bar. She pulls a cig from a squished up pack of Marlboro reds, and tells us boys to have a lovely rest of our evening. I can't decide whether I'm repulsed, or want to ask for her number.
Either way, I wanna go back.
