Shootout at the OK Corral
Hola amigos! Right now we’re driving on the Joshua Tree Scenic highway en route to Nevada, the westernmost stop of our trip! It’s a teeth-gnashing section of road, as there’s no cell service, no gas stations, no towns, no evidence of human life except for the occasional semi – and our low fuel light just came on. I just gave Leslie the wheel a few miles back, and I imagine that his thoughts about me are not the kindest right about now. Hopefully our refueling process won’t involve me hiking untold miles through the desert…
Well, let’s try and think happy thoughts! Like about our visit to Tucson, home of my dear friend and colleague, Kathy. Kathy and I met at a conference more than a decade ago, and together we have become part of a ragtag band of Emergency Medicine education researchers, scrabbling around at the periphery of academia for small grants and even smaller scraps of recognition. Thus far, we’ve only gotten to hang out in person when our meteoric careers have thrown us together, so I was delighted to have a few days to spend with her in a (mostly) work-free setting, and to get to know her lovely family – husband Dave, and daughters Jane and Nora.
We arrived late in the afternoon on our first day, and after a quick G&T, Kathy and her crew had to head out to a going-away party for her sister, who it turns out is moving to jolly old England. This gave us a chance to consume more than one man’s share of queso at a local Mexican restaurant, followed by lolling in the pool. The next morning, however, we proved a good deal more ambitious, heading out early to Tombstone AZ, home of the OK Corral.
For those who are a bit shaky on your Wild West history, here’s the deal: Tombstone was founded by a prospector who discovered a massive lode of silver in the nearby hills in the late 1800s. It quickly attracted hordes of fortune-seekers, and became one of the biggest boom towns of the era. As such, it had quite enough saloons to keep the populace steadily intoxicated on rotgut whisky. One night, a duly drunken member of said populace was celebrating something or other by shooting his pistol at the moon. The town Marshall tried to confiscate the drunkard’s gun, but ended up getting fatally shot in the process. Virgil Earp, the less famous brother of Wyatt, became the new town Marshall. Virgil’s crew included brothers Wyatt and Morgan as well as consumptive alcoholic physician friend Doc Holliday, all of whom were deputized into police roles. The lawmen got into a feud with the moon-shooter’s crew, an outlaw band known as “the cowboys.” Tensions flared as dudes with mustaches walked around the streets looking stern.
Eventually all this foolishness ended up in a shootout between the lawmen and the cowboys, wherein eight grown men shot at each other 36 times in under 30 seconds at point blank range in a vacant lot that wasn’t actually the OK corral.
The shootout didn’t stop the feud. Virgil and Morgan Earp were killed off by cowboys soon after, and Wyatt was hunted for the rest of his days. Holliday’s days were more naturally numbered, and he died soon after the famed events at the tender age of 36. The Wild West, folks – amirite? I must admit I prefer the romanticized Hollywood version.
Fortunately, Tombstone has THAT in spades, making it a perfectly lovely place to visit! It’s got all manners of frontier charm. See if you can rope your friends into visiting!
It’s full of lovely saloons for drinking whisky – apparently Dave didn’t get the memo about not smiling while you pound your rotgut. Of course, I’m pretty sure they’re drinking something that costs $75 a bottle, so maybe Leslie should join in the smiling…
It’s a great place to wax your mustache!
Or to grow a mustache if you didn’t have the foresight to arrive with one already in place.
In fact, Tombstone makes EVERYONE grow mustaches!
The small minority who remain mustache-free are highly sought after for prestigious positions in the hospitality industry.
Of course, there are still occasionally shootouts in the street.
But all in all, Tombstone is wildly picturesque and a huge amount of fun.
However it was 110 degrees by late afternoon, so we were ready to head home before we developed heatstroke and ended up in Boot Hill.
That evening, we had a FABULOUS dinner at Café Poca Cosa, where we enjoyed a sampling of upscale Mexican delights in an environment far swankier than we felt with our sweaty selves. After dinner, we quickly concluded that 8:30 is in fact NOT too early for bed.
The next day was even hotter, and we decided to lay low. J&Z joined their new bestie Jane for kids’ climb at the local rock gym.
That was more than enough exertion for the day, so there was a bit more pool time afterward.
This was followed by yet another spectacular dinner, and a nightcap of daredevil stunts and trick shooting with the Pinnacle Peak Pistoleros – a decidedly less grim group of mustached men than the Earps.
We spent the evening trolling around the Pistoleros’ native Trail Dust Town.
Despite the girls briefly ending up in jail, it was a lovely evening.
Zoe and Jane tried clinging together to see if they could prevent their cruel parents from separating them.
Sadly, I had to be that cruel parent, and after exchanging email addresses and Minecraft logins, we hit the road. Next stop: Lake Mead, NV. XOXO Kathy!!!
Miles: 3853
States: 12
Context-free QOTD: Are you cheating on Daddy with violence and explosions?