Where’s the beef?
“I never said all actors are cattle; what I said was all actors should be treated like cattle.”
Probably aren’t many Vegan Conventions here.
Welcome to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma! Home of the world’s largest livestock trading center. In the heart of Stockyards City. Where cattle traders have met for live auctions for over a century in the Oklahoma National Stockyards.
We didn’t plan to enter. We weren’t even sure if we were allowed. I was quite content with a few tourist shots.
.But Lisa is a persistent one. Through the gates, she insisted.
We passed the Livestock Exchange, which is where we assume the trading happens.
We continued to the stockyards, where the “guests” are welcomed with a huge banner.
Yep, here they come …
“Keep going”, she said. Never mind that sign. We’re not hogs. Yet.
To the inner sanctum we went. Not so pretty in here. Didn’t smell like roses, either.
I’d had enough. Let’s get outta here.
Apparently, the guests that don’t receive a first class ticket on the railroad, spend a bit of time in the adjacent luxury accommodations.
On the way out, we came across some truckers. These guys are marketing geniuses.
We asked one where to grab a bite to eat. Being in the business and all. He told us that all the cattleman eat - surprisingly - at the Cattleman Cafe. That sounded like a solid recommendation to me. Could the beef be any fresher?
Come on in …
How about we start with the Lamb Fries? Had the consistency of squash …
Followed by the Cattleman’s Salad. Yes, that’s a “crouton”. With a wee bit of dressing on the side.
A filet for Lisa and a ribeye for Scott … and we were set for the day.
At this point, it was either back to the RV for a nap … or go shopping. Lisa opted for shopping. Fortunately, it was right across the street.
And it was indeed at Langston’s where we met Bill the Hatter, who had fitted many a rancher and cowboy in his day. Nothing like a couple of clueless Yankees coming into the hat shop looking for a cowboy hat. Bill the Hatter had the patience of Job.
Lisa was enamored with the Stetson Dune in the Acorn color. On the wall it was fairly pedestrian. But Lisa had an eye for it. It was like a magnetic force pulling her closer and closer. Bill the Hatter had no opinion on style, but he knew how to work his magic.
He meticulously fitted Lisa: just snug enough, a bit of space on the wiggle, eyebrows must be able to move.
Into a cloud of smoke, Bill the Hatter disappeared.
Shaping it with the hands of a master craftsman, Bill the Hatter emerged with a hat that was befitting of a queen. Or a cowgirl. Or a someone that wanted to look the part.
Tomorrow, we’re off to Dodge City, Kansas.
