Crawdads at Bubba's Place

You can't make this kind of stuff up. On Friday night, Ryan and I went to a nearby tiny town for their annual Crawfish Festival. At a bar. Called Bubba's Place. Yes, it's exactly what you think. The local womanfolk had gotten all dolled up with makeup, and put on their best camos for the event. The confederate flag was stapled to the ceiling. The smoking ban in Illinois bars had not yet made it to this small town, and more women were lighting up than men. We got to enjoy the occasional mullet, and sat behind the Nascar pinball machine. The night was completed by using the pitch black Porta Potties out back. That all being said, the crawfish were fantastic! In spite of feeling like Big City folks in the bar, we really did enjoy ourselves. As Ryan said, "This is why I moved down here. You just can't get this anywhere else!"