And you know you're still in the Wild West if this is one of your claims to fame:
Standing is Cousin A. with her "little" brother C. out front. Little is in quotes because he's freakishly tall.
After the parade, it's time for the rodeo. The Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo is known as The Grandaddy of 'em All, and is the largest outdoor rodeo in the US. Sis got us tickets to the days events which were mostly qualifying rounds.
Michael Martin Murphey, invited everyone on stage with him for protection. So we joined the maybe 40 other people on stage. He kept playing while ladies were jockeying for selfie positions. The hail was now golf ball sized and just kept coming harder and harder. I leaned over to my sister who was huddled in the back because she didn't have a jacket and said, "your poor car".
Shoulders were shrugged. There wasn't anything we could do, so might as well enjoy the show. Both of them. It got real interesting when a park official interrupted to tell everyone to run to the museum because there's a tornado warning. So we the naive tourists take off. I'm the smart one who wore tennis shoes, got to the museum first carrying a few hail balls in my sweatshirt. Sis arrived next, after decided to save herself after stopping mid way to wait for friend D. Those hail balls hurt when they peg you on the head. Not five minutes after arriving at the museum completely soaked, the so called tornado warning was lifted. We had a long trek to poor SueBee so we waited for the storm to pass and lighten before heading back outside. So we chatted with the museum docent, and went through the gift shop. We got a little lost trying to find SueBee, and ended up walking through the botanical gardens surveying the damage. We eventually find her, luckily no broken windows but she now had dimples. Lots and lots of dimples.
more to come