I've got Spurs that Jingle, Jangle, Jingle

Tucson, Arizona. That is where I spent this past weekend. Acquiring state #24 on my quest to visit all 50. After spending exactly one day in Tucson, I found a new thing to boycott (the parking garage at the Hotel Arizona. Stay away...it is evil) and my sisters and I discovered that the city itself had less to offer then Hartford. So on Friday, we set our sights south and decided to head to Tombstone, the land of Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp and the shootout at the O.K. Corral.

Because of my "incident" in the parking garage (Metal pole - 1; McDougall's rental car - 0), my posse and I needed to seek alternate transportation. So we made the one hour trek from Tucson to Tombstone, across the barren desert by stagecoach.

Upon arrival in Tombstone after our long and treacherous journey and a run in with the Boarder Patrol, we decided to hit up the local saloon for a cold beverage.

After I ordered "a bottle and a glass," the apparent drink of the Old West, I heard a ruckus outside. Angry that my drinking binge was being interrupted, I went to investigate and kick some ass...

I found myself at the center of the most notorious gun battle in the Old West. The shootout at the O.K. Corral. Or at least a very bad re-enactment of it. Here is what it looked like:

After the 30 second gun battle was over, the Clantons and McLaurys were dead and I was standing on the winning side with the dashing Earp brothers.

After that battle, it was time for us to begin the long journey home. I was saddened to leave the wildness of the Old West but mostly to leave my new found beau. I enjoyed a brief, albeit passionate rendezvous with the dashing Virgil Earp (the cowboy to my left) History chooses to immortalize his brother Wyatt, but he was old. I knew that our relationship was doomed from the start. First of all, he has been dead for over 100 years and the guy playing him in the re-enactment was a 2nd rate actor that. But I still look back on him with much fondness.

So now back in the real world, sitting at my computer on this cold New England day, I can only think back and remember the brief time I got to spend in Tombstone, Arizona in 1881. Thankfully, no one got shot or hanged on our visit. Next time, I hope I can pull up a chair at the Birdcage Theater and play in the longest poker game in history (8 years, 5 months and 3 days)