Cowgirl Melinda and Her Bunkmates Take a Road Trip

Much of the Western Plains ascribes to a conventional form of morality; much like the Bible Belt of the South, but with quite a bit more tolerance for a convivial nip or two in the friendly saloons.  Still, ranch hands must blow off some steam.

Melinda and her bunkhouse buckaroos found themselves with a little time on their hands, so they all piled into pickup trucks and headed out to Sin City West, AKA as Las Vegas!  Yes, it was a rough ride, but all pitched in the driving tasks, leaving the greenhorns back at the ranch to tend to the herd.

They arrived at this Mecca of lights and bad taste at 1 A.M., and were suitably awesruck.  They went into one of the casinos, played the slots, ate some vittles, and had a few drinks.  They started off with a sissy drink (a Cosmo), but graduated to bourbon neat.  Melinda wandered over to the poker tables and soon was $5000 in the black!

"Drinks to all in the house!"  That quickly ate up her winnings, but she got another $7500 because she was the most skilled poker player to come out of Wyoming.

Melinda, having gotten a little relaxed, decided to help out the showgirls with their act.  Since they were in a classy joint, and Melinda was toting, she got no complaints!  I must say that Melinda behaved like a typical tourist to Vegas, being quite a bit less inhibited than living amound the ranch hands and Republicans of Wyoming would require.

No, she didn't go the full monty.  Let's leave it at that.  But she definitely added to the tone of the act.  The guys took pictures but, being gentlemen, did not share after they got back home to Wyoming.

Some of her bunkmates also whooped it up, giving currency to the slogan, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."  Or should.  Rick amused himself by shooting at the lights on the Strip.  Big Tom 'borrowed' a police horse and rode it into The Sands.  All thought it cool that Big Tom was wanted for rustling in Vegas; that's being a serious badass!  Denver Darla drank herself under a table.  She never could hold her liquor.  Little Willie proved where his nickname did not come from! 

Everyone had a good time, but especially Cowgirl Melinda.  She was just too good at ripsnorting.  Finally, after many were hors de combat from firewater,  two of her bunkhouse mates still standing pitched her and her friends in the bed of one of the pickup trucks and she woke up in a sort of costume in Salt Lake City.

"Where's my frickin' clothes!  It's cold here!  I need some coffee!!"   She woke up partly dressed and totally disoriented with her bunkmates in the back of the pickup, and all added to the decorum of The City of the Saints.

Quite a different attitude toward whooping it up there in that City of the Saints!  The local gendarmes disarmed her, made her finish dressing, and told her that there was no coffee to be had.

Damn.  Salt Lake is a coffee-free burg.

Her bunkmates thought that perhaps on their next road trip, they should dial it down a bit and go to Omaha instead.  Melinda, when she whoops it up, pulls out all stops.