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When I worked at a dude ranch, my main problems were my idiot coworkers and the pedophile who owned the place. However, there were a few truly legendary SCs who showed up.
Here in Colorado, we have four seasons: Hot, Cold, Muddy, and Windy. It was the season of the Windy, which out here means WINDY, and at the dude ranch- located atop a spot of high ground in the foothills- we would get gale force winds daily for at least a month during the appropriate season. It was so bad that if there also happened to be ice on the ground, you could stretch out your coat and sail (usually right into a fencepost or a wall, OUCH).
So, right in the midst of the windy season, on a particularly windy day even for the windy season, we employees huddled in a shed hiding from the weather. At least there wouldn't be any riders in weather like this, right? That meant no tips (sigh) but at least we wouldn't have to bring the horses up in the wind.
At about 10 AM, there pulled up an Audi convertible- silver- and out from the passenger's side hopped a tall, blonde woman in, I kid you not, SIX INCH STILLETTO HEELS. She was followed by a ragged looking older cowboy. She was at least six feet tall in the heels, and to put it delicately, looked like an escapee from a gentlemen's club. She wore Daisy Dukes and a halter top, with a cowboy hat she held on her head with both hands.
We immediately initiated a round of nose-touching and not-it calling. I lost and had to go out in the wind to see what Daisy Dukes wanted. The following ensued:
Me: Uh...
DD: Daisy Duke
CB: Henpecked Cowboy
Me: Welcome *cough, sputter, spit out gravel* to the Way Out West Ranch *clutch fence to avoid being bowled over by wind* How can I help you?
DD: How much *hic, teeter* to rent *hic* a couple of horses for the *hic* day?
SHE WAS DRUNK AS A SKUNK. At 10 AM. She was teetering dangerously on her heels and swaying like a weathervane with each burst of wind.
Me: I'm sorry, Ma'am, but in this weather we can't take any rides out- it's not safe.
DD: *hic* I have ridden horses in MUCH worse weather than this!
CB: C'mon, honey, let's just go back to the bar.
Me: Yes, get inside out of this wind, I agree! Why don't you come for a ride another day?
DD: LOOK A BUNNY!
An interlude follows in which DD and her extraordinarily unsafe heels totter after a passing rabbit in an effort to catch and pet it. She returns, pouting, having failed to secure the bunny. The rabbit, being the most sensible character in this story, took shelter under a shed and there it stayed all day.
DD: Listen, you *hic* Don't have to ride, just saddle up some *hic* horses and we'll go ride!
Me: Sorry, Ma'am, we only offer guided rides. I can't let you take the horses out in this wind- it is unsafe.
CB: She's right, honey, come on, let's forget it today.
DD: I USED TO HAVE A WILD MUSTANG!
Me: I'm sure you did. We have a few BLM Mustangs in our dude string and they are wonderful. But we would not want to endanger them or you in this weather.
DD: I TRAINED A WILD MUSTANG! You think I can't handle a little WIND?
CB: Come on, honey, let's go to the bar....
Me: Ma'am, it's not a question of your riding ability. The owner of the ranch told us not to take any rides today due to the safety hazard presented by the gale force winds.
DD: I RODE MUSTANGS IN WEATHER WORSE THAN THIS! I rode and trained Mustangs for YEARS!
Me: I'm afraid I can't rent you a horse in this weather. I understand you are an experienced rider. Also, we require closed-toe shoes to ride.
This last was a white lie- technically we did, but we never enforced it, which was one of the factors that annoyed me about the moron who ran the place- one broken toe from a tourist who was allowed to ride in flip flops, proof that we had negligently failed to enforce the rule about footwear, and BOOM lawsuit.
DD: SO THIS IS ABOUT HOW I LOOK? I can ride a WILD MUSTANG but you will deny me *hic* the use of a horse because *hic* I LOOK PRETTY?
Me: No, Ma'am, it's just policy not to permit open-toed shoes for riding here. It is also inclement weather and not safe to ride.
CB: Yes, dear, let's go....
DD: YOU WON'T LET ME RIDE *hic* BECAUSE OF HOW MY SHOES LOOK! That is DISCRIMINATION AGAINST THE BEAUTIFUL! *hic*
Me: Sorry, not my rule, not my choice.
At this point, I turned and walked away- let her try to crawl through the electric fence into the pasture if she likes. Watched from afar as...
DD: *pout* Honey, I want to RIDE!
CB: Let's just go have a drink.
DD: I WANNA RIDE! Can we pet *hic* the POOOONIESH?
CB: Okay, dear, pet the pony.
She wobbled over to the electric fence and coaxed a friendly mare over. Predictably, as soon as her heels bobbled her forward, she hit the electric fence boobs first, got a hefty ZAP, which zapped the horse she was petting on the nose.
The horse span and high-tailed it for the middle of the herd, Daisy Dukes fell on her butt, the cowboy stifled a laugh, she staggered to her feet and ran to the car, shouting...
DD: I WILL NEVER RIDE HERE AGAIN!
Here in Colorado, we have four seasons: Hot, Cold, Muddy, and Windy. It was the season of the Windy, which out here means WINDY, and at the dude ranch- located atop a spot of high ground in the foothills- we would get gale force winds daily for at least a month during the appropriate season. It was so bad that if there also happened to be ice on the ground, you could stretch out your coat and sail (usually right into a fencepost or a wall, OUCH).
So, right in the midst of the windy season, on a particularly windy day even for the windy season, we employees huddled in a shed hiding from the weather. At least there wouldn't be any riders in weather like this, right? That meant no tips (sigh) but at least we wouldn't have to bring the horses up in the wind.
At about 10 AM, there pulled up an Audi convertible- silver- and out from the passenger's side hopped a tall, blonde woman in, I kid you not, SIX INCH STILLETTO HEELS. She was followed by a ragged looking older cowboy. She was at least six feet tall in the heels, and to put it delicately, looked like an escapee from a gentlemen's club. She wore Daisy Dukes and a halter top, with a cowboy hat she held on her head with both hands.
We immediately initiated a round of nose-touching and not-it calling. I lost and had to go out in the wind to see what Daisy Dukes wanted. The following ensued:
Me: Uh...
DD: Daisy Duke
CB: Henpecked Cowboy
Me: Welcome *cough, sputter, spit out gravel* to the Way Out West Ranch *clutch fence to avoid being bowled over by wind* How can I help you?
DD: How much *hic, teeter* to rent *hic* a couple of horses for the *hic* day?
SHE WAS DRUNK AS A SKUNK. At 10 AM. She was teetering dangerously on her heels and swaying like a weathervane with each burst of wind.
Me: I'm sorry, Ma'am, but in this weather we can't take any rides out- it's not safe.
DD: *hic* I have ridden horses in MUCH worse weather than this!
CB: C'mon, honey, let's just go back to the bar.
Me: Yes, get inside out of this wind, I agree! Why don't you come for a ride another day?
DD: LOOK A BUNNY!
An interlude follows in which DD and her extraordinarily unsafe heels totter after a passing rabbit in an effort to catch and pet it. She returns, pouting, having failed to secure the bunny. The rabbit, being the most sensible character in this story, took shelter under a shed and there it stayed all day.
DD: Listen, you *hic* Don't have to ride, just saddle up some *hic* horses and we'll go ride!
Me: Sorry, Ma'am, we only offer guided rides. I can't let you take the horses out in this wind- it is unsafe.
CB: She's right, honey, come on, let's forget it today.
DD: I USED TO HAVE A WILD MUSTANG!
Me: I'm sure you did. We have a few BLM Mustangs in our dude string and they are wonderful. But we would not want to endanger them or you in this weather.
DD: I TRAINED A WILD MUSTANG! You think I can't handle a little WIND?
CB: Come on, honey, let's go to the bar....
Me: Ma'am, it's not a question of your riding ability. The owner of the ranch told us not to take any rides today due to the safety hazard presented by the gale force winds.
DD: I RODE MUSTANGS IN WEATHER WORSE THAN THIS! I rode and trained Mustangs for YEARS!
Me: I'm afraid I can't rent you a horse in this weather. I understand you are an experienced rider. Also, we require closed-toe shoes to ride.
This last was a white lie- technically we did, but we never enforced it, which was one of the factors that annoyed me about the moron who ran the place- one broken toe from a tourist who was allowed to ride in flip flops, proof that we had negligently failed to enforce the rule about footwear, and BOOM lawsuit.
DD: SO THIS IS ABOUT HOW I LOOK? I can ride a WILD MUSTANG but you will deny me *hic* the use of a horse because *hic* I LOOK PRETTY?
Me: No, Ma'am, it's just policy not to permit open-toed shoes for riding here. It is also inclement weather and not safe to ride.
CB: Yes, dear, let's go....
DD: YOU WON'T LET ME RIDE *hic* BECAUSE OF HOW MY SHOES LOOK! That is DISCRIMINATION AGAINST THE BEAUTIFUL! *hic*
Me: Sorry, not my rule, not my choice.
At this point, I turned and walked away- let her try to crawl through the electric fence into the pasture if she likes. Watched from afar as...
DD: *pout* Honey, I want to RIDE!
CB: Let's just go have a drink.
DD: I WANNA RIDE! Can we pet *hic* the POOOONIESH?
CB: Okay, dear, pet the pony.
She wobbled over to the electric fence and coaxed a friendly mare over. Predictably, as soon as her heels bobbled her forward, she hit the electric fence boobs first, got a hefty ZAP, which zapped the horse she was petting on the nose.
The horse span and high-tailed it for the middle of the herd, Daisy Dukes fell on her butt, the cowboy stifled a laugh, she staggered to her feet and ran to the car, shouting...
DD: I WILL NEVER RIDE HERE AGAIN!
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