Ok, so I am having my hair trimmed so I bear less of a resemblance to a sheepdog and one can actually see my eyes, when my stylist begins talking about the latest manager of the not-to-be-named convenience store at the heart of town. Now far be it from me to cast stones on what people do on the weekends; but here in Chadron, Nebraska, apparently one local convenience store became the focus of an uprising.
Apparently, the "new" manager decided to stop making nachos for an entire week. Whoever played Paul Revere in this scenario made a bee-line for the nacho-consuming public of Chadron to put an end to this jalapeno-and-cheese-soaked-round-tortilla-chip faux pas of serious magnitude. Because here, "everyone knows we go there for nachos, especially after beer at two in the morning. It's famous; it's what we're known for."
According to my source, an unspecified, but large, number of irate customers half lost their minds (no doubt after beer at 2:05 a.m.) and, armed with comment cards, deluged the beleagered ne'er do well with anonymous negativity. Needless to say, the next day, ye olde nachos reappeared on the menu and all was well amongst the after two beer crowd. Oh yes, and the manager - gone...she quit. The nacho rebellion of '08 was a rousing success. Vive la revolution.
And after my source had mentioned it, I realized I had noticed the HUGE sign heralding the Chadron nachos and, hell, they looked pretty freaking lovely. Now I must give them a shot, and afterward, get a script for cholesterol meds. Josh.
And for some insane reason, I actually cared about, well, my town. A little haven of 5500 at last count, and not including the college students, has become...my town. Wow. I heard this story after chatting it up with the postmaster and a couple of ladies in the assessor's office. I poked my head into a local County Commissioners meeting, turned red, said, "Hi," erk and left. All of them had looked at me and I had stage fright. How embarassing.
I said, "Hello" to three elderly people and Mel offered a friendly greeting to the older gentleman from the gravel yard. Here, things are still done on one's word and with a handshake. The air is clean and even the dogs are nice. I suppose many people here would be easy targets for those who prey on others, but here, the community will help you back up if it does happen.
But don't get me wrong. It's not Utopia. There is a good ol' boys network that is somewhat closed; and certain fears run deep...of what, I am not sure; but people are nice outwardly even if they do have a dark side. And face it, we all do.
And so as I sat in this little chair in a salon in this queer little piece of the midwestern universe, I felt...content. Yep, that's it. The way you figure the herd of siamese cats perched on a local barnyard fence feel as they enjoy a sunny summer day. You can have one as long as the lady who owns them knows you will spay or neuter the kitten. And that is so very...Chadron.