As the ladies shopped, I decided to kick back in the local watering hole. As sure luck would have it, I stumbled onto the Red Onion, an old brick saloon from 1892. I settled onto a bar stool and began to absorb. The entire town is period, yet trendy. Fortunately, the Red Onion exudes character unspoiled. History permeates from the walls as my Bloody Mary is served. Skiers visible from the front window. Random bowl game on the elevated tv above the old saloon bar, wooden booths and narrow corridors lead in varying directions, pool room, kitchen.
A lady sits down at the bar and starts up a conversation. She's the chef for a wealthy family that just arrived from Miami. She normally cooks aboard their yacht, but the staff was just sent here to their winter home for the xmas holidays. Regardless of whether or not she's telling me the truth, I am thoroughly fascinated.
The bartender's a semi-professional golfer; he raves about local courses, but I don't play.
Great slice of life at the Red Onion.