So I found myself wandering around Bozeman and lo and behold I come to the corner of Church and Main where there is a sign that says Shine. Methinks mayhaps the ole grey matter could use a little shine, who doesn’t like a wee sparkle. I hesitated, what if this is a place to get your shoes polished, I’m sporting my chucks, Converse for the unannointed, you do not polish white canvas. However, As you might know, I am a risk taker, I went in.

Golly miss molly, they sell beer and not just any beer, they sell every beer, They claim something like 13,000 beers on tap. Choices, personally I like coffee flavored coffee and beer flavored beer, so with draw dropping speed, finesse, and fear I pick the pale ale, Joe my bartender appeared unsure, I pointed stating the one between the Huckleberry Goathorn Lemon Sour and the Mudslide Imperial King’s Porter infused with Pickles. Never poured the pale one, Joe stammered, I’ll see what I can do.

For safety, I scanned the crowd, nothing amiss jumped out at me. Typical downtown Bozeman, I saw lumberjacks who were probably lawyers, a Hawaiian queen, Wyatt Earp, maybe the crown prince of Qatar, girls in love, boys in lust, girls dressed for each other, chest hair, more ink on skin than Mr. Bic ever dreamed, and a group of adults relaxed onto furniture that looked like it was taken from an early marriage apartment, including a yellow hairdryer chair complete with drying hood that probably had memories of a blue hair roller set.

Pale ale goes right to your bladder, off to the powder room to de-beer. Now as bathrooms go, these are award winning, mirrors, fish, kegs; a recommendation, go to all four, the experience is visceral.

I found what I was looking for by following the chatter. Fun talk was being had, this was the Cheers bar section, you know where everybody knows your name. Garrett and Tara were munchy wunching on what looked like burritos and one of them talked with their mouth full, not Tara, you get 3 guesses. I was rudely asking Garrett questions while he tried to eat. I was well met by Pete who spells Billings, sgnilliB, Sprague (first name), one of only 2 Sprague’s in the USA and could pass for a young Jon Voight skiing at Killington, Vermont. Eli, a man sharing a heart breaking horse story, Chase who promised to get me some choice noxious weeds, when he could get away from the beautiful attachment on his lap going by the name of Ewan who came in with Charissa who beat me up at a Self Defense class which I enjoyed a little too much. Ewan is four and definitely in charge.

Holy cannoli, Mary Anne is here, I believe we were married 52 years ago, she snake eyed me but gave me a kiss, life is good.Then I met Ben, wow the dude can put together an outfit, and make it work, and all I have is a hat. Mason, a smiling, outgoing young man who does the most incredible job of showing up, and as anybody knows is the hardest part. And last but certainly not least, the Wildlife Wrangler, aka Ed, aka Stop The Bleed Instructor strolls on in with a curly haired beauty going by the handle of Libba and they seem to fit like a glove, a good glove, a soft glove, you know quality not a catcher’s mitt, an old deerskin hand shoe so thin it feels like pleasure.

Thanks to everyone who helps to make the Gallatin Community Gun Club a unique, exceptional organization and we all hope you can be at the next GCGC Meet-Up. By the way, this was a friends get together, drinking was an after thought if that. Mea Culpa.

Once again, that’s my story and I’m stuck with it.

Johnnie Goldfish, chronicler, raconteur, and really fulla bulla.