Land Mines and Bloody Mary's
As I was driving up to the Veterans of Foreign Wars post 3795, I could not help but wonder what type of people would be inside. I was sure that there would be men who were once gun-bearing soldiers that vowed to defend the United States no matter what the cost. I have a greater respect for these men, as I have made the same vow, but the only gun I carry is a toolbox.
When I finally reached the VFW Post, I was surprised to see that it was in desperate need of renovations. At some point there seemed to have been an adjoining part of this building to the north as re-bar was hanging out of the side along with some posts that must have supported a roof. The building had that standard cinderblock color, drab gray, with some obvious signs of aging.
As I parked on the south side of the building I could see that the back of the building had some tarps stretched out to cover a TV and a couch. Some men were smoking and watching a game, I could hear them talk about how bad they wanted their team to win. Amongst the gentle banter I could hear them agree that alcoholic drinks would be the wager.
As I walked around to the front I could see from a sign that they were serving breakfast. The sign was far from extravagant; it looked as though someone with a shaky hand had painted it. Cautiously stepping in the front door I was greeted by a large man named Buddha. At that moment I felt like I was in an old western, I was the unknown cowboy walking into the bar; everyone turns at once to see who he is.