Part Seven...
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ROYAL GORGE, CO --The sky was covered with black clouds as usual; the sun nowhere to be found, the wind picking up, the rain trickling down every few minutes, the likelihood the BBQ showdown would be canceled was looking good. I was antsy the entire drive down to Royal Gorge, CO because a cancellation meant no award winning pulled pork sandwich and, more central, I would miss out on seeing some weird stuff.
The entire drive to Royal Gorge, CO, a rural town an hour away and 50 years behind the times, I silently prayed the rain would subside for an hour while Michael and I roamed around the festival, taking in all the sights and sounds we’re not accustomed to normally seeing. The camera was ready to go; the hunger pains from purposely staving ourselves were present, now all we needed was the weather to cooperate.
We arrived around 3:00p.m., almost time for the awards to be presented to the best of the best. We looked up towards the sky and hoped for the best. Our luck couldn’t have been better. The sky seemed to understand our mission and let the sun peek through the clouds just in time for some good ole country fun.
I pulled out my camera, a loaner from my friend Joe, and was immediately ready to start clicking away at the all the strangeness I saw from the moment I paid my three buck admission fee. The only problem was the LCD screen on the camera was fried from, um, nothing! (Sorry, Joe…I owe you one camera) It wasn’t dropped, mishandled or left in a hot car. The camera almost appeared to notice our tremendous luck with the weather and said, “Don’t get too cocky, Andrew, you know you’re not that lucky!” And the camera was right, I’m not that lucky…never have been and never will be.
The first pertinent thing I noticed was the exclusive use of Budweiser products in Coors’ backyard, which left me speechless. I asked the Bud girl (they’re a tad bit different from Phoenix Bud girls) where I could find a Coors Light and she almost hogtied me.
“Hush your mouth, there ain’t no Coors here,”
“Huh? Are you out of your mind?! Isn’t this Coors country?! Don’t they contribute millions of dollars per year to the local economy?!”
“Not down here they don’t. Ya want something or not ‘cause I’m real busy.” (she wasn’t)
“Sure, I’d love a Bud”
“Bud or Bud Light?”
“A mans beer: Bud.”
“A mans beer? Didn’t you just ask for a Coors Light?”
“Um, I don’t think so…was just making conversation.”
“I see, that’ll be four tokens.”
“OK, here you go. Keep the change!”
“Hey, these are tokens; there ain’t no change with tokens.”
“Exactly... See you in a bit.”
Michael and I walked from tent to tent carefully inspecting the menus of each contestant, treating this like it was our last meal before “Old Sparky” sent 100,00 volts of surging electricity though our veins. We asked the vendors serious questions about the preparation process, we debated quietly whether so-and-so’s BBQ was really worth 7 tokens when so-and-so had the same for 6 tokens, and were generally a couple of morons. But we were hungry morons and nothing would be left to chance…not even the type of sauce we would put on each bite of our food.
We started with an order of Short End ribs from Smokin’ On The Beaver, 2005 Grand Champions of some competition, and the ribs were fantastic. These were beef ribs which I’m not a huge fan of, but they were to die for, especially when you haven’t had a morsel of food in 8 hrs. We ate every last piece of meat on the bone in record time, like we were Joey Chestnut and Takeru Kobayashi at Nathan’s on July, 4th. We had to part with 6 tokens ($6.00) but it was 6 tokens well spent.
We decided the next course would be a pulled pork sandwich from the Skin & Bones Barbeque Team tent, which only cost 6 tokens, 1 less than Andy’s. My preference is a Carolina style sandwich --dry pork with slaw --but this is Kansas City style BBQ, and there would be sauce. The bun, heaping with slow cooked pulled pork, was fresh and soft and it soaked up the sauce like a sponge. The kid who served us was bragging about all the awards Skin & Bones had won of the past few years, and he assured us it would be the best we’ve ever had. He was wrong … dead wrong. Even though we were famished, and increasingly thirsty, the sandwich was not the best I’ve ever had. That goes to Pierce’s Pitt Bar-B-Que in Williamsburg, VA.
We had to reload on the wooden tokens so we took a walk to trade in some greenbacks for a few more. Cautiously guarding our tokens like they were black, $500 chips from the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, we took a stroll back to the Budweiser girl for another adult beverage and more abuse.
“Hi again, may we get two Coors Lights?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“We ain’t got no Coors here,” The gal responded, not realizing she just went through this with the only normal looking people in the place.
“OK, make it two Buds, regular Buds, that is,” I said, just hoping to get out of there without anymore conversation.
A success … she didn’t say another thing and we were off to watch a few of the participants accept their coveted dry rub ribbons. Some guy won the best mustard dry rub, evidentially his first, and you would’ve thought he just won an Emmy for Best Actor in a Hallmark After School Special. Well done, Scooter!
Our last dish was the beef brisket, and it would be from Andy’s. Our intense research indicated Andy’s was the best place for brisket ... and we simply came to that conclusion based on the name alone. And we were right! It was unusual, I’ve never had pulled brisket but it was a tasty treat. It was served dry on a bun and we had a choice of ten different sauces in squeeze bottles. We tried about five different varieties on each bite and personally awarded the HOT BBQ sauce Best in Show. The morons spoke and the is decision final!
We drove back to Colorado Springs with a belly full of food, no good photos other than the ones I took with my cell phone and a new appreciation for pulled brisket. By the time we arrived at Michaels, after a few stops along the way, I had to check my schedule for Royals game the next day, an eight hour drive from the Springs. The game, I thought, was at 6:10 or 7:10 the next evening, giving me ample time the next day to enjoy the drive.
At 9:00p.m. I checked my schedule, which was handwritten on a piece of crumpled paper jammed deep in my laptop case. Low and behold, the game was at 1:00 p.m., and that meant if I immediately went to bed, woke up at 3:00 a.m. –with 6 hours of sleep—I could make the first pitch. Trying not to break any link in my trip, I went to bed, woke up at 3:00 and was on the road by 3:15.
The drive to K.C. was really, really fun, especially in the dark. I was very tired, didn’t have any coffee, and I was on a State Route for the first 2 hours. After stopping for coffee at some country store an hour into the drive; I had only taken two sips from my piping hot coffee when I rounded a turn, using a 1/32 moon to help me navigate, and nearly plowed into three deer loitering in the middle of the road. The good news was I didn’t hit the deer after slamming on my brakes. The bad news was my coffee went flying, drenching my shorts, legs and CD player. I rolled down the window; threaten to kill the deer with my bare hands, and then checked to see if the coffee fixed my CD player. No such luck with the CD player but I did reach Kauffman Stadium with two minutes to spare ... … and welts on my thighs.
NEXT STOP: Kauffman Stadium (June 14, 2009)
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