Sundance, where the kid got his name...

Turf Bar, Sundance, WY

rainbow over Sundance Mountain

The Turf Bar fashion generally consisted of bandanas, ponytails, and leather vests. Clutching beer bottles by their necks, several people swayed -eyes closed, faces turned to the ceiling- to heavy metal ballads playing on the juke box. The swaying was more woozy than that of a sober person by far. Unlike many biker bars where so many "bikers" seemingly dress up in weekend costumes, it was more obvious here that they work, drink, smoke and party in these clothes every day.

Jen and I were watched with curiosity until after we'd ordered beers and burgers and were finally asked where we were from. The guffaws at our "New York" answer basically sounded like, "what planet did you say?!?", so I was quick to add that we were on our way to visit my parents in Wyoming. They eased up at this, and the conversation turned to how awesome the plains are and that, yeah upstate New York isn't that bad...

Looking outside I noticed as the storm-front blew east the evening sky took a chance to brighten up before nightfall. Inside, the barmaid hung up the phone and reported that her brother's barn, sitting deep in a valley twenty miles north of town, had been vaporized by the tornado a half-hour earlier.