The Mint Livingston,
Montana
Salt of the Earth. Good ole boys. Traditional American Values.
These are just a few of the descriptions you could use when speaking of Livingston , Montana.
Here the locals put on steel toes in the morning, not loafers.
In fact I would venture to guess the only loafers they are aware of are the Unionized Railroad workers at the Burlington Northern Rail Yard.
Yeah, this place is pretty much . . . Perfect.
Rocky Mountains surround this picturesque piece of Americana
But I digress.
It was Friday at 5 PM, and I needed a beer.
See this was a rare occasion, a “perfect storm” if you will. It is not very often two “Suits” paths cross.
Because when they do, debauchery ensues.
Well, this was such an occasion.
Suit OchoCinco and Suit 69 just happened to be in Livingston at the same time.
You could literally hear the locals locking their daughters in their rooms, the beer vendors stocking extra heavy and the liberals heading for a “retreat.”
As we swayed confidently down the street looking for a place to quench our thirst, we happened upon a thousand light bulb sign buzzed incessantly and flashed annoyingly.
Bingo. It was on.
We loosened the top button of our shirts and pulled our ties down an inch or so.
After all, it was still light out so it was going to be a long night.
We walked in the front door and Tasha, the bartender, cordially
introduced herself handed Suit OchoCinco a $10 bill and asked me to load the jukebox.
I happily obliged, saying, “Hope you like Hank, Coe, Sinatra, Jones, and Nelson."
She just smiled. I think she was smitten.
I ordered a Moose Drool and a shot of Makers Mark and Suit 69 ordered a Glacier Ale and a shot of Jim Beam.
Go big or go home, after all.
With a clink of the shot glasses and a tilt of the head, we were off to the races.
We watched with great pleasure as the Yankees got trounced by the Rangers to win a bid to the World Series, and I promise you that sentiment wasn’t wasted on the locals.
The entire bar seemed in agreeance as A-Rod finally came through on his promise to help the Rangers get to the World Series.
Just not how he originally planned.
This bar doesn’t waste its time with “coasters” the have carved a trench into their bar that they fill with ice so that your beer N E V E R gets cold.
The sheer brilliance left me speechless.
After my fourth beer and second shot, I finally needed to make room and headed to the bathroom.
There was no sign on the door that said the traditional “men” or “women” so I had to guess.
I pushed on the first door and the bathroom was wallpapered in classic Playboy covers.
Yup, this was mine.
I went to the bar and asked the bartender about them, she said the owner found the covers in they were real.
Yes I know. He ripped the covers off of over 50 classic Playboys to use as wallpaper in his bathroom.
No worries.
We already notified the Dos Equis Guy (most interesting guy in the world) and the owners man card is currently under review.
From the guns, steer skulls, and neons hanging on the wall to the classic phone booth, dogs allowed policy and the pizza delivered to the patrons after 11 PM this place was your quintessential “hole in the wall.”
And it was P E R F E C T.
The entire night the bar was filled with beer drinking locals dressed in camo.
Iit was, after all, “The opening of Hunting Season EVE” so they were all pre gaming in anticipation of their conquests yet to come.
Finally.
Seven hours, eight beers, three shots and a full ton of Outlaw country later, Suit Ocho Cinco and Suit 69 walked out the front door with barely a stumble.
We had branded this small town.
There was no doubt, as apparent by the slouched over locals at the bar that they hadn’t fared as well.
P.S. Just a day later a few of those boys showed up with the first trophy of the year.
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