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Beer At the End of the Prairie

At the edge of the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains in Northern New Mexico, one can get an appreciation for the vast nothingness that expands from the mountain foothills to the East. You can drive for miles and not see another vehicle. You can see plenty of deer, bison, antelope and cattle, though.

After spending some time exploring such a vast and open frontier, one naturally becomes parched. Thoughts turn to sustenance. Food and drink permeate the psyche, and by food and drink I mean pizza and beer, of course. And by beer I mean cold beer. As a matter of fact, there is a place east of Cimarron, New Mexico on the road to Colorado where U.S. highway 64 meets N.M. 505. Right there is Cold Beer.

I mean it. Once the wheels of the rental car had skidded to a halt and the dust from the parking lot cleared, there stood Cold Beer, New Mexico. The establishment was rather unremarkable, yet visitors are greeted with an icy stare that conveys the “you ain’t from these parts” acknowledgement.

While the barmaid rattled off an impressive list of brew on draft, one caught my fancy. Stella Artois. I was amazed that a beer from Belgium could be enjoyed ice cold in the middle of northern New Mexico. With a foamy moustache and a smile on my face, I ordered a pizza. Then I asked where I could wash up and was told that the facilities were located past the billiard table. Note that I managed to find the men’s room, opposite the wash room labeled “No Men“.

Alas, the pizza that was served at our table was less than bistro quality (more like Costco quality). But who cares? The beer was very cold and tasty. Indeed!

They don't call it "Butt Wiser" for nuttin'!


About Dave

About myself could be rather involved and include various tidbits of neurosis that could intrigue the psychiatric community, so I will defer for now.

One comment on “Beer At the End of the Prairie

  1. Who would’ve thought that you could find such a thirst quencher in the middle of the New Mexico prairie. But you’re right, nothing is better than a cold beer with a pizza altho it might’ve been a pizza of questionable origin. You’re really “butt wiser.”

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