Nick and Sarah were on the dusty trail east to Amarillo, Texas.  It was a long drive, so they took turns at the wheel.  They talked about how each city had its own flavor of jewelry, so engagement rings in Amarillo, Texas ought to taste like riding bulls and doing the two-step.  They both had a very clear picture of what Amarillo, the “Yellow Rose of Texas”, would be like, but knew that they would likely be surprised in some way, as they always seemed to be by each new city.

As Nick drove, Sarah grabbed a CD and popped it in the stereo.

“What’s that?” Nick asked her.

“Vic Fontana and the Automatics,” Sarah told him.  “They’re from Amarillo.  I figured it would get us in the right state of mind.”

After a few minutes, Nick said, “They’re pretty good. Kinda funkier than I thought for Amarillo.”

“Definitely,” Sarah agreed.  “Matt burned it for me.”

“Matt from college?” Nick asked.

“Yeah,” Sarah said.  “He’s a Texan.”

They rode a while longer, listening and watching the seemingly-endless plain turn into the seemingly-endless desert.

“’Disco Inferno’, really?” Nick said.

“I guess so,” Sarah responded, and turned it up. 

As they drove through downtown, La Casita del Sol at 1607 S. Harrison Ave., Amarillo, TX 79102 looked like an oasis after the long, dusty drive.  It was a small Bed & Breakfast in a residential neighborhood, built in the 1920s but freshly renovated.  Nick had booked them a room with a door directly out into the courtyard and gardens, which were walled in for privacy.  He had read online about the legendary Bonnie, who owned and ran the place, and who was, evidently, a great cook.  The breakfasts there were supposed to be completely amazing.

After they checked in and showered, they went downstairs to pick out a movie to watch in their room.  They got some snacks from the kitchen and made it about halfway through their 100th viewing of “The Usual Suspects” before they fell asleep.

In the morning, they ate an enormous breakfast at the Inn, and then set out to experience the “Dynamite Museum”. This was, evidently, the brainchild of eccentric millionaire Stanley Marsh III.  Mock street signs were put up randomly throughout the city, saying random things or displaying random pictures.

They stopped in front of one yellow sign that said “Round Up The Usual Suspects” and waited for someone to come by.  Then they went to a nearby house and knocked on the door.

An older woman answered the door.

“Who are you?” She asked.

Sarah spoke up.  “We’re visiting and we really like the signs up around the city,” she said.

“What signs?” The woman asked, coyly.

“Well,” Nick explained, “We really like that ‘Round up the usual suspects’ sign, and we’re wondering where it came from.”

“Not sure,” the woman told him, a slight Texan drawl becoming more pronounced.  “It was just there one morning.”

“And you don’t know where it came from?” Nick asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” she told them.

Nick and Sarah were both smiling.  This is what they expected.  It was Amarillo’s party line regarding the Dynamite Museum.

“Well,” Sarah said.  “Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

“Wasn’t nothin’,” the woman said.  “You kids have fun in Amarillo.”  It sounded more like “AmarillAH”. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Nick said.  “Have a great day.”

They went back to the car.  As they drove around, they saw signs that said “Scuba Pig”, “Undead End”, “I Don’t Suppose Anyone Has a Tomato”, several signs in Spanish, and a sign reading “A Movie Star Slept Here” planted in the middle of someone’s yard.

“How cool is a city that does something like this?” Sarah asked.

“It’s really artsy,” Nick agreed.  “And totally insane.  I can’t imagine this in New York.”

“Well,” Sarah said.  “We have enough insanity there, no?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat.

When they passed a sign reading “I Don’t Know How I Do It But Every Woman I Meet Is Crazy”, Nick said he wanted to come back at night and steal it.

“No way,” Sarah said.

“We’ve stolen plenty of street signs,” Nick argued.

“I read that they fine the heck out of you for taking those signs,” she said.

The signs were everywhere.  Some of them were funny, some were educational, some were cryptic, and the one that said “It Is Bloody Murder” just kind of freaked them out.  

“I bet that one keeps non-Amarillians on their toes,” Nick said.

“I’m definitely on mine,” Sarah told him.  “Let’s move on.”

Nick had already picked out their next destination.  He wouldn’t tell Sarah where they were going, but, soon, enough, they pulled up in front of Panhandle Gunslingers Indoor Shooting Range and Gun Shop.

As they got out of the Jeep, Sarah grabbed Nick.

“My mother would kill me,” she said.

He smiled and looked straight ahead.  “How?” He asked.  “You’re the one with the gun.”

“Very funny,” Sarah said.  “But you have to let me tell her.”

They walked into something they couldn’t imagine in a million years in New York.  It was a gun haven.  Nick took Sarah’s hand and they walked to the counter.

“How can I help you?” The man working there asked.

“We’d like to use your shooting range,” Nick told him.

“Do you have your own guns, or are you renting?” He asked.

“We’ve been on the road,” Nick said.  “We’d like to rent.”

“Have you ever shot a weapon before?” He asked.

Nick answered a quick ‘yes’, and Sarah looked at the floor.

“Can I take that as a ‘no’, little lady?”

Sarah looked up.  “Actually, no, sir.” She announced.  “I’ve shot before.  A few times at targets in a range and I shot skeet once.”

“We’ll need you to fill out some forms,” The man told them.  “And I’ll need to see some identification.” 

Nick and Sarah handed over their drivers licenses and waited while the man entered their information into his computer.  After a little while, he asked what kind of firearms they were interested in.

“I’d like to try a Glock 9mm,” Sarah said, surprising herself.

Nick looked over the available guns.  “I’ll go with the Smith & Wesson 1911.”

They paid for their rentals and a box of bullets each, and were led back to the shooting gallery.  After going over the safety regulations, and making sure they knew how everything worked, the man asked if they had any questions.  Then he left them in the gallery.  Sarah was carefully loading the magazine.  Nick had finished his and was watching with amusement.

“What?” Sarah said.  “It’s a little terrifying, holding things that can kill people.”

Then she put her headphones on to block out the noise and started shooting.  After a few shots, she checked her target.  She’d only hit it once, in its paper belly.  Putting the gun down, she stretched a bit, did some deep breathing, and relaxed.  When she picked up the gun and shot again, she was much better.

By the time they were finished with their bullets, Nick practically had to drag Sarah out of the place.

“What a rush!” She told Nick.  “I’ve worked me up a man-sized appetite with all that shootin’.”

They drove to the Big Texan Steak Ranch, made famous by its 72-ounce eat-it-in-an-hour-and-it’s-free deal.  According to Sarah’s guidebook, 35,000 attempted it, and only 5,500 succeeded.  The place was all wood inside, with mounted deer heads and the such.  It looked exactly as they had imagined it. 

Nick ordered a Laughing Margarita, smoked spare rib appetizer to share, and RJ’s Texas Cut 24-ounce Ribeye. 

“How would like that cooked?” The server, Connie, asked.

“Medium well,” Nick told her.

Sarah ordered a Laughing Margarita also, but got the Big Texan 16-ounce Prime Rib.

“How would you like that cooked?” Connie asked her.

“Black on the outside, raw on the inside,” Sarah said.  She knew that Texans would understand this.

“Good call,” Connie said, smiling.  “And for your sides?”

They finished ordering and absorbed the energy of the place.  It was definitely the last stop for many, many cows.  They each had a few Margaritas with dinner.  It was definitely the best beef they’d ever had.

“Texans DO know their beef,” Sarah remarked.

His mouth full, chewing, Nick nodded.

When they finished eating, having had the full Big Texan Steak Ranch experience, they returned to the hotel.

Flopping down on the bed, Sarah unbuttoned her jeans.

“I need an hour to digest before we go out,” she told Nick.

“Let’s nap,” he said, crawling out of his jeans and onto the bed.  They lay there, rubbing their bellies, and slept for a while.  When they woke up, they showered again and dressed to hit the town.  They knew they were going to a country bar, so they put on the most western-looking clothes they had.  Sarah knew she’d get by in jeans, a tank top and boots.  Nick, lacking much in terms of western wear, was thankful for the enormous Harley-Davidson belt buckle Sarah had gotten for him.

They arrived at Midnight Rodeo to find it packed.  There were some folks in full-on Western wear, and some of the standard guys-in-jeans-and-white-baseball-caps.  There was a spot called the ‘Piranha Room’ which played retro and disco music, but Nick and Sarah felt like they needed to experience Texas Western, as opposed to the Montana Western and Wyoming Western and so on.  They went to the bar.

“Two longnecks,” Sarah told the bartender, holding up two fingers.  They were brought bottles of Coors Light.

Tapping the necks of their bottles together, Nick said, “When in Rome…”

Sarah smiled.  “Be a sport.  You’re such a micro-brew snob,” she told him.

“Pot calling the kettle, um, what again?” Nick nudged her.

Raising an eyebrow, she took a long drink of her beer.  It went down smooth as water.  After four of them, she suggested that they dance.

“I don’t think we know how to dance like this,” Nick told her.

Sarah walked over to a couple she had seen on the dance floor most of the night.  They were a bit older than most of the crowd, and seemed to be there for the dancing.  She introduced herself and then Nick.

“We’re new,” she explained, “and I’m embarrassed to say that we can’t even two-step.  Would you be willing to show us if we buy you a round?”

“We’d be happy to,” the woman told Sarah.  “You don’t have to buy us a round.”

“But we won’t stop you if you try,” the man piped in.

After a twenty-minute two-step intensive, Nick and Sarah were flying solo.  Even when they messed up the steps, they’d laugh, go to the bar to have another beer or a shot with their new friends, and then get back out there.  After a while, it didn’t matter to them if they had the steps right or not.   They danced the night away to music they didn’t really know, but it was all perfect for the time and place.

In the morning, although neither of them was into breakfast, Nick and Sarah ate an enormous meal, prepared by Bonnie at the B&B.  She asked them how they were enjoying Amarillo and what they had done the previous day.  After chatting with the guests for a while, Bonnie disappeared back into the kitchen, telling them to ‘give a holler’ if they needed anything else. 

Their first stop when they left the B&B was a well-known diamond jeweler and designer in town.  He featured mostly his own designs, but carried several well-known jewelry lines as well.  Nick and Sarah agreed that Nick would take the lead on this one.  They walked into the store and began looking around.  A woman came out to greet them, introducing herself as ‘Edie’.

“What can I help you with today?” Edie asked them.

“I’m looking for an engagement ring, something special, something unique,” Nick told her, “and I need it pretty fast.”

“Do you have any specific things you’re looking for?” Edie continued.

“Well, a diamond around one carat, platinum setting,” Nick told her.  “And unique.  But again, time is of the essence.”

Edie smiled.  “No problem.  We have a number of beautiful rings for your girlfriend to try.”  She began taking some rings out of the case an arranging them on a display tray, explaining that any of the settings can accommodate different gemstones.  Lowering her voice, she asked, “Are you expecting?”

Nick tried to look perplexed, then shook his head.  “No, nothing like that,” he explained.  “But if I don’t get a ring on her finger, she’ll cheat on me again.”  He raised his voice, sounding irritated, so Sarah would hear the last part.

She looked up from across the room, eyebrows raised, but quickly lowered her head before she smiled to herself.

Edie cleared her throat and invited Sarah over to look at the rings she had selected.  Sarah looked them over, appearing bored, and tried one on.

“See anything you like?” Nick asked her.

“I guess so,” Sarah responded, faking a yawn that turned into a real one.  She pointed at one that had a really funky, squared-off shape and a tension-set diamond and gemstones set into the band.  Edie wiped it down with a cloth and handed it to her.  Sarah put it on and looked at it from different angles.

“It’s nice,” Sarah said.

Nick shifted his weight and stared at her.  “But is it nice ENOUGH?”

“Nice enough for what?” Sarah asked him, still looking at the ring as she held her hand out away from her, watching the light bounce off of the diamond.

“You know,” Nick told her, again sounded irritated.

“Oh,” Sarah said, finally looking at him, then back at the ring, “THAT.  Yeah, why not?” She went on.  Then, looking away, she quietly added, “You just can’t let that go, can you?”

Nick raised his voice again.  “No, I can’t.  Do you like the ring?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sarah said, “But the gemstones need to be changed to our birthstones.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Edie told them.  Nick and Sarah could guess what she was thinking.

“What about cleaning and maintenance?” Nick asked.

“We offer a lifetime guarantee on all of our rings,” Edie said.  “We’ll clean it free of charge every six months, and you can bring it in or send it in if stones come loose or there is any damage to the settings.”

“And do you offer an insurance plan?” Nick asked.

“Actually,” Edie explained, “we don’t.  It’s better for you if you have it privately insured as you do any valuable asset.  You want to make sure that you’re covered, no matter what.”

“I see,” Nick said.  “Most places seem to want to sell me an insurance policy.”

“Not us,” Edie told him.  “We guarantee all of our jewelry, and will maintain it always, but when it comes to insuring it, your safest bet is with private insurance.  But, should something happen to the ring and you need it repaired or want it cleaned, just get it to us and we’ll take care of it.”

“So,” Nick asked, “It’s safer to be privately insured in case your store closes, right?”

Edie cleared her throat again.  “Well, we certainly aren’t planning on that.  But we do recommend that you have your engagement ring insured.”

Sarah slipped the ring off of her finger and back onto the display tray.

Nick thanked Edie for her time, saying that he hoped they would be back in the next few days.  As he reached for Sarah’s hand, Sarah yawned again, gave him a little fake smile, and reached back.

As they walked down the street, Sarah kicked him playfully on his backside.

“A cheater?” She said.  “A different kind of two-stepping.  Very clever.”

Stopping on their way out of Amarillo to see the Helium Monument, which proclaimed that Amarillo, Texas is the Helium Capital of the World, they hit the dusty trail again. 

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