An oldie, but goodie. Honobia, 2010.
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?
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?
