Cowboy?

 

 

Cowboy?

 

I am a hat guy; having worn them almost every day of my life since I was a young child.  Doesn't matter the kind, be it Ball caps, Beret's, Fedora's, or a Cowboy hat; you will see many photo's of me over the decades, and most of them include a hat if I am outside.

 

About 7 years ago, I primarily converted to a cowboy hat because it provides the greatest protection from the sun on my neck and ears.  I liked the look of cowboy hats, just had never worn them till then.  I've worn cowboy boots for longer than that out of pure comfort.  My boots are super comfortable, and quite warm in the winter.

 

I like country music.  But, I am not a cowboy.

 

I own guns, and I am *always wearing a gun (those idiotic door stickers mean zilch unless it is a school, a professional sports stadium, or any government building).  But, I am not a cowboy.

 

I drive a BIG truck.  But, I am not a cowboy.

 

I never worked on a ranch or a farm.  I have never rode a horse.  I have never milked a cow.  I have never shoveled manure.  I have never 2-step danced, nor been to a country bar.  I have never eaten calf fries, and, I hate rodeo's; having twice endured the torture of those at a young age.

 

So, my normal daily wardrobe is jeans, cowboy boots, cowboy hat, and a gun; and I'll be driving around all day in a BIG truck, rocking out to loud country (or pop) music.  And most likely, I'll be eating a big piece of dead cow for dinner.  But, I am not a cowboy.

 

HOWEVER,

 

Walking and driving around the New England states earlier this month on our leaf-peeping tour; from the amount of comments, to stares, to gawking, I was obviously a "Cowboy" to them.  I'm not a small guy; and standing 6'2" in my boots, with 225 lbs. on my bones, I dwarf a lot of folks. 

 

I am not intimidating on purpose, but I know that my girth and stature can freak out quite a few 'small' people. :-) 

 

Stepping off the elevator to my hotel room on day one, I was greeted with "Yippee Ki Yay" by a pair of octogenarians.  It took me a minute to recall where I had heard that, and it wasn't Roy Rogers, it was John McClain, and if you don't know what else John McClain said with it; let's just leave it at that.

 

At breakfast each morning in the hotels, I lost track of how many little boys and girls would stare at me like I just landed here from the moon.  Some of the comments I remember were: 

"Look Mom/Dad, a real Cowboy", "Giddy Up", "I like your hat", and "Howdy partner."

 

When we were out in public, many times I was asked by the locals, "Are you from Texas?"  I'd say, "No; Oklahoma."  To which a few said, "Oh, where is that?"  And I'd say, "It's on the dark side of the moon." I really did say that. Once. With a straight face. The tattooed young man looked back at me again like he was contemplating if I was telling him the truth..., and then he walked off.

 

People weren't rude, just inquisitive.  Finger pointing and quick head movements don't bother me.  I thought it was quite funny actually.  Who would have thought that seeing someone in a cowboy hat and boots was so rare back east?

 

Not a single time in 10 days did we see anyone else with a cowboy hat.  I was it.  I was the only one on the jets, the only one in the airports, and the only one through almost 1,400 miles of driving.

 

BUT, at the end, stepping into the DFW airport on our way home, what was I greeted by?  That's right, at every turn in the airport were other's, just like me, wearing boots and hats!  It felt so good to be home, even though it was Texas.

 

Happy trails to you, until we meet again . . .

 

~

 

*unfortunately, no guns were worn while traveling back east, as I didn't want to hassle with locking up my guns in checked baggage at the airport.