We read a lot about visiting the Grand Canyon and decided on the South Rim and to go by train. You’ll read later in the blog about the congestion at the GC. So, Williams advertises a package which allows stay at the RV site as well a ride on the ‘steam’ train.
We went via the Four Corners but only because it was there. It was a tacky stop off; three sides of a square lined with Native american souvenier sellers and an unimaginative photo opportunity.
Williams actually is what you’d imagine a Rout 66 town might have been like. It has kept all of its neon and kitsch diners. We arrived late and so went straight out to eat. We ended up at a Buffalo restaurant and sat at a swing table under a canopy, rather like the sort that you might have in your garden. Jules had Buffalo burger de-horned and I went for swordfish steak, the youngsters had an ordinary burger and chicken pasta. The temperature had dropped and we were underdressed. The younger members left soon after the meal to play on the internet – I could not connect – so Jules and I went cruisin’ through the town. We ended up at a biker bar. You know the sort, a long scratched bar with stools, two pool tables and a cross between a shove ha’penny board and a curling table. It was around 12 feet long and you played with four weights which you slit to the other end of the board – too hard and they fell off, not hard enough and they didn’t reach the scoring area. Your opponent was trying to score too or to knock your disks off the playing area.
All along the wall were sayings like “A woman fantasy – 2 men. One to cook and one to clean.” On the other wall amongst the Harley memorabilia was a poster of Tim Magraw, smothered with lipstick kisses. The bar lady was one who clearly had seen more life than either of us put together. We drank some, put our money into the juke box and met some traveling folk. First up were the two German girls. It is always possible to identify some nationalities by the state of their arm pits. Then came the 4 Dublin girls, accents as broad as the Guinness that they were drinking. They were followed by 2 locals who were very interested in the previous visitors. Then came a biker couple, a shrunken Hulk Hogan with trademark bandana and moustache, the male not the female. Finally a family from Alabama. Logan has just graduated so his dad, Steve, his uncle Steve, his Gramps, James and another from the same clan. We played on the curling table. All too soon, it was time to go. It must have been late as the younger members of the group were in bed. At least, we didn’t get ‘Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?’ We could, at least have answered both questions.
Williams actually is what you’d imagine a Rout 66 town might have been like. It has kept all of its neon and kitsch diners. We arrived late and so went straight out to eat. We ended up at a Buffalo restaurant and sat at a swing table under a canopy, rather like the sort that you might have in your garden. Jules had Buffalo burger de-horned and I went for swordfish steak, the youngsters had an ordinary burger and chicken pasta. The temperature had dropped and we were underdressed. The younger members left soon after the meal to play on the internet – I could not connect – so Jules and I went cruisin’ through the town. We ended up at a biker bar. You know the sort, a long scratched bar with stools, two pool tables and a cross between a shove ha’penny board and a curling table. It was around 12 feet long and you played with four weights which you slit to the other end of the board – too hard and they fell off, not hard enough and they didn’t reach the scoring area. Your opponent was trying to score too or to knock your disks off the playing area.
All along the wall were sayings like “A woman fantasy – 2 men. One to cook and one to clean.” On the other wall amongst the Harley memorabilia was a poster of Tim Magraw, smothered with lipstick kisses. The bar lady was one who clearly had seen more life than either of us put together. We drank some, put our money into the juke box and met some traveling folk. First up were the two German girls. It is always possible to identify some nationalities by the state of their arm pits. Then came the 4 Dublin girls, accents as broad as the Guinness that they were drinking. They were followed by 2 locals who were very interested in the previous visitors. Then came a biker couple, a shrunken Hulk Hogan with trademark bandana and moustache, the male not the female. Finally a family from Alabama. Logan has just graduated so his dad, Steve, his uncle Steve, his Gramps, James and another from the same clan. We played on the curling table. All too soon, it was time to go. It must have been late as the younger members of the group were in bed. At least, we didn’t get ‘Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?’ We could, at least have answered both questions.
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