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 The Rusty Anchor Saloon is in Capitan, New Mexico. With a name like that, it deserves to be there. It's a mighty friendly place and lots of fun, one of the few old-time saloons where a fellow can stand at the bar if he feels like it. Or if he feels like it, he can sit on the floor. Chairs are scarce. However, It's usually so crowded that nobody wants to sit or could. Very tight pants. Especially on the girls. Both of them. I asked why they named a place "The Rusty Anchor" that was a thousand miles from the ocean. All I got from the patrons was a blank stare and a long silence. Then one of them asked, "You a Communist?" "No, sir," I replied. "You a foreigner?" asked another. "Certainly not," I retaliated. "Where you from, boy?" "Texas," I said proudly. "He's a foreigner," smiled a gray-bearded patron. "So why do they call a place between Albuquerque and El Paso 'The Rusty Anchor?'" I pursued. "Well," sighed an obviously good-natured customer, "I guess we're gonna have to tell him." "When God decided to destroy the world with the Great Flood, Noah actually lived on this very spot and built the Ark right here between the bar and the shuffleboard." "He listened to Hank Williams on the jukebox the whole time." "Forged a great anchor from iron ore in the Capitan Mountains." "Everybody scoffed." "Everybody scoffed," echoed a chorus of listeners. "Then the rains came, the wind blew, the water rose." "It was during the elections," wailed a buddy. "Finally, the strain was too great. The Ark lurched at its moorings and snapped the anchor chain like a bull breaks binder twine." "It rained for 40 days and 40 nights." "It was on a Tuesday," cried a companion. "When the water receded, only Noah and his family were safe." "I read about it in the Wall Street Journal," lamented a local investor. "So," I said, "I suppose you guys are going to tell me that you are the descendants of all those who drowned in the Flood?" "Noooooo," said the teller of tall tales, "the Flood story is not completely accurate. When the flood came, it was a flash flood. We jumped on our horses and raced the wall of water. I myself never felt a drop of rain, but my dog, not 10 yards behind me, had to swim all the way." "Staying ahead of the water was tough, but when it started to go down, we came back to find all the sinful people drowned, homes gone, everything changed. The only way we were able to find our homes was to search out the Capitan Mountains and look for signs. We finally found the rusty anchor of the Ark. We rebuilt this saloon and gave it that name to commemorate that epic event." "Is that true?" I asked. "Do you see the anchor?" he asked. Looking around, I replied, "Frankly, no, I don't." "There, you see? That proves it. It rusted away." Then we all drank a toast to the iron-willed people who died in the Great Flood. Naturally, the toast was, "May he rust in peace." |
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