You were going to get into a pretty bad fight in that place if you hung out for very long and -

drank,
didn't drink,
drank wine,
played cards,
didn't play cards,
played pool,
didn't play pool,
swore,
didn't swear,
drove anything besides a pickup,
wore anything besides jeans,
wore anything besides dirty jeans,
didn't have callouses,
voted,
said 'shit' instead of "she-it",
said "wife" instead of "old lady".

As I recall, there just wouldn't have been a way to avoid it. It was one tough place filled with a lot of drunk people who were eager to show how rugged they were. That didn't mean they had to win, "winning" was irrelevant. Getting hurt was the point, bleeding the badge of honor. I only saw one fight, which didn't draw a lot of attention, certainly no one moved to break it up. And those guys were too drunk to either feel or inflict much pain.

I sat back, got drunk, smiled a lot, didn't object to cigarette ashes being dropped onto my pants, smiled some more, said "howya doon", smiled, and DIDN'T gamble or play pool. I left while I could still drive by Montana standards, which were loose. No speed limit, for instance.

I don't remember where I was staying, or how I got there. That was a different life.

You are a good man to not hang out there.

Arf