This
year the trip to the annual Bigfoot Festival in Honobia, Okla. was up
in the air almost right to the last minute. Due to some extenuating
circumstances, it was doubtful that the old gang would all be able to
make it, but at the last minute, the stars aligned and the trip was on!
We gathered again at Chip's house, took off in the mini van and after a
mere 30 minutes on the road, our sides hurt from laughing. Who
wouldn’t laugh with Chip, Greg King and Jack in the car? The annual
stop at the Oinky Doink Pig Joint in Henryetta, Oklahoma was excellent
as usual. I managed not to accidentally feel up any local farmers this
time, and we left the Oinky Doink in relative peace.
That
beeatch named Garmin thinks she is so smart! She kept telling us to
drive south when we should have been driving east, but you just can't
argue with her because she thinks she's all that and a bag of computer
chips. At one point she recalculated and we ended up taking Mr. Toad's
Wild Ride down some steep country road and a river crossing -courtesy of
moi! Mimi contributed major production value with the "Theme
from Deliverance" blaring from her I phone speakers. That was actually
one of the craziest moments and worth every sore rib I had from the ride
and the company. Garmin and her owner were not as amused as we were,
but it was classic all the same.
WE decided to stop at The
El Nino Supper Club BEFORE going to our holiday abode at A to Z Guest
ranch. If you haven't read my prior notes about trips #1 and #2, El
Nino Supper Club is neither a supper club nor a bar. It's really just
Anita's living room in a trailer from the 60's. Located in the deep,
dark woods down an old dirt road, the only hint that it is a commercial
establishment is the sign painted on a big rock that says “BAR” with an
arrow pointing east. That's it!
In order to fully enjoy a
trip to the Bigfoot festival in Honobia, Oklahoma, one must be willing
and able to do certain things. A healthy suspension of all prior
beliefs is always helpful - coupled with the ability to go with the flow
(in this case maybe flowing backwards?)
Having said this,
our trip to El Nino was no less entertaining, frightening or charming
then the last visit we made. To see is to believe, and the 2 members of
our party who had not visited Anita's fine establishment were a little
taken aback at the ambience. We greeted Anita and got down to ordering
our drinks. Since we were familiar with Anita's secret for keeping
costs down and profits high (can you say Margarita Mix from Sam's with no alcohol in it),
we wisely ordered beer from a can. Greg ordered just plain soda and
since he's so darn cute, Anita treated him to a Scotch Buy Root beer
from her own personal stash. Ahh, that Greg. The ladies love him-
especially 83 yr old Anita. I think she was just hoping he'd buy her
another round like he did last year. Greg being Greg, he offered and
she accepted. Anita belted down a nice vintage rose and charged him
$8. He is such a peach!
And speaking of peach, there were
3 genuine Choctaw Indians in da' house de Anita. They were drinking
shots out of plastic salsa cups like you buy from Sam's. One of them
had a special affinity for peach brandy shooters. They were speaking
Choctaw, trying to convince us they were speaking Italian and were keen
to discuss the philosophical, cultural and historical impact of the
Dawes Commission with Chip. But Chip was in no mood to cooperate and
insisted on spouting out useless bar trivia to his captive audience.
One of the less sophisticated members of our party called upon Anita to make him a Seven and Seven. "A 7 and who?’
Anita queried. Sadly, Anita's liquor purveyor (Still #7 in nearby
Hocahtown, Okla.) had not delivered the Seagram’s that week, so all
Anita had was Canadian Mist. She had no Seven Up, but she said, "That don't matter. I can make some!" And
with that, the enterprising Anita dug out a glass from some distant
cabinet, took some sweet and sour mix, doused it with soda water, poured
in the Canadian Mist and mixed it with a spoon that probably also
served as the mixing spoon for the various animal meals served to the
local dogs and cats. That spoon has probably not seen water and soap
since The Land Run of ’89.
We were laughing so hard we
could barely breathe. Remember my statement 'bout a successful trip to
Honobia? Prior belief systems regarding the availability of premium
liquors and their accompanying mixers in a trailer living room bar
should have been suspended about the time we encountered the words 'BAR"
and an arrow written on a boulder on the side of the road. Although our
friend was highly disappointed in the drink selection, I do believe
that was one of the most amusing moments of the trip. I think I saw Mimi
snort beer through her nose but don't tell anyone. Go with the flow,
peeps!!!!!!
Anita also shared that her cabin was available for rental that weekend, but after sharing with us that she “Almost had all the dog hair out," we
declined. When Mimi asked what the special dish of the day was and
Anita informed us that it was white chili, we really decided that the
white chili in this dish consisted of the last party who rented the
cabin.
On to A to Z Guest Ranch and our huge cabin in the
woods. Located in the middle of nowhere, the cabin included a huge
sleeping loft, 2 nice master bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a huge living
room. Butch, the caretaker, greeted us with friendly charm and made us
feel very welcome. We met the camp dog-named Buckaroo and some of the
resident horses. Butch also gave us a 3 pronged weenie roaster for any
campfire cookouts we may have had planned. Chip was quick to notice
that Butch had part of his fingers missing on a couple of his hands,
which will be play a part in this story a little later.
We
attended the annual Bigfoot Campfire Storytelling event, but it was
boring, so we packed up the van and headed to The Boondocks-a local bar
and restaurant. Sunny the dog was the hostess and led us to a table. I
went to the restroom to wash my hands. Since I was not “doing
business, “ I left the door to the single seater restroom open. In
walks a girl. She says, “Hey,” and plops down on the toilet to unload. As I hastily dry my hands, she says, “Oh, can you shut the door on the way out?”
After
settling in for the night, one of the Bigfoot Queens entertained the
others up in the sorority girl loft with a joke about the difference
between Titlelist golf balls and a woman’s “love button.” Chip decided
the sorority loft was so much more fun than the couch, so he joined
us. We spent the rest of the night asking him about guy stuff. Like I
always wondered if guys look at each other’s junk at the urinal. Chip’s
answer? “Only if you want the crap beat out of you.” Not willing to
let it go, we asked if it was the same if the dude next to you was your
friend. “Same thing applies, “ Chip advised.
We awoke
early the next day to “run” the 5K. A certain member of the party
decided to “go local” and do the 5K in flip-flops. Loser! Mimi, Greg
and Kelly put forward their absolute best in the 5K while certain other
slackers gave up the ghost and rested their weary bones at the defunct
Clancy’s bar while waiting for the others.
We were
entertaining Jack with tales of hoe downs past at Clancy’s, when the
dusty glass door opened and out walked the proprietress- Kirby Ladd.
Now Kirby is married to Tommy Ladd-one of the finest and most talented
citizens of Honobia, Oklahoma. Although Tommy and Kirby have moved on
to the city, they had come home to host another Bigfoot Hoe Down, so we
were really blessed that we were at the right spot to hear the news.
See! Doing a 5K in flip flops turned out to be the right move for Miss
Bigfoot 1980! Fashionistas live more interesting lives and give and
give of themselves in order to secure social opportunities to improve
the lives of others. (wink, wink). It was actually my plan all along.
Since
I had to work so hard in securing the entertainment for the evening, I
was hot and sweaty, but Jack and Chip urged me on to the finish
line-where we waited for Mimi, Greg and Kelly to FINALLY cross the
line. Don’t know what took them so long! They were sweaty as well, but
I’m not sure why since all they did was run a 5K all the way.
We
then made a quick run of the festival environs and scoped out which
corndog booth offered the best value for our hard earned money (READ
which corndog was the longest?), which booth held the most interesting
merchandise (confederate flag bikini) and which local had the best live
animals for sale (Hands down favorite was the two for one huntin’ dogs).
We
had to advise Kelly, Miss 1979, that she needed to see ALL the wares
offered before goin’ and spendin’ her money on the first bikini she
saw. Mimi also proved hard to convince that the bikini top made out of
beer cans and crocheted yarn would be there at the end of the day, and
we would go back and purchase it then. Greg feared he would have to lug
around our impulse buys all day thereby precluding the opportunity to
sing in the Bigfoot Karaoke Contest. By the way, if you have not heard
his rendition of “Feelings,” well, you simply must ask him to sing a bar
or two next time he comes your way.
Bigfoot Queens must
also vote in the annual Bigfoot Art Show held at the festival. This
duty is VERY, VERY important and a highlight of our day. They also make
it really, really easy for us since the same person painted all the
entries. Not sure if that is a comment on our intellectual capacity or
just one of those small town local “fixes.” Anyway, congratulations for
Myrtle Suggs for the hauntingly realistic portrait of Bigfoot giving
Miss 1984 a hickey. It was stunningly magnificent!
Mimi,
Kelly and Greg were anxious to get back to the cabin for a massage. I
hadn’t heard it, but earlier in the day, the owner of the A to Z had
mentioned that massage services were available upon request. Those 3
quickly reserved a spot and were happily dreaming of relaxing bliss when
I mused: “Wonder how they can keep a massage therapist on call waaaay out here?” Chip replied. “I am sure it’s just Butch, the nubs on his hands and use of that 3 prong weenie roaster.” Strangely,
those 3 cancelled their date with serenity. I did see them later using
self -massage techniques by rubbing their backs up and down against the
cedar trees.
After Chip and I played ball with “Buckaroo
the dog who won’t bring the ball back” and the others finished up their
various afternoon relaxation techniques, we piled in the car and drove
35 miles to Hochatown for an actual real restaurant experience and all
the Seven and Seven’s you could drink. The food was magnificent, and we
were especially fond of the moniker for local lake that supports the
area: Beavers Bend, population 500. Saaaaluute!
On the
way back, Miss 1980, who was the designated driver, could not figure out
how to turn the lights on to the van. After 5 minute coaching from
Jack and hilarious advice from Greg- who has no need for a vehicle and
is madly fit from riding his bike everywhere- we finally left the
parking lot. Out to the winding, twisting, roads of Honobia. About 5
minutes into the drive, Miss 1980 told the story of the last time she
drove a van and observed in her high pitched little voice: “Driving a high profile vehicle in the wind was surprisingly hard and I almost went off the road.” She also took that time to mention, “ I usually drive by myself and having others in the car is weird for me.” It
got quiet after that. Not sure if that was praying going on or if
everyone just decided to give up and hunker down for the inevitable.
Later,
we went on to Clancy’s, partied with the locals, drove back to our
cabin in the woods and decided to have s’mores under the stars. Chip
demonstrated his fire-starting prowess by lighting the match in the
strong mountain wind 6 feet from the wood. We can’t really blame him
since his camp counselor days were spent making out with the 16 year old
campers instead of learning fire -building skills. Somehow, the fire
was started, marshmallows were roasted, Hershey bars melted and dessert
was enjoyed.
It is said that the way your roast your
marshmallow reflects your attitude in life. We had hot and flaming,
slow and slightly brown, major meltdown into the fire and everything in
between. No matter how you do it, the result is the same: Sweet,
undeniably good and memorable. Same thing applies to our time in
Honobia…………
Ya'll come on back now, ya hear?
