Stepping off the bus in the Wyoming tourist town, I was swallowed in the bustle and charm of the Old West. Resting my suitcase at the curb, I stretched. The
Stepping off the bus in the Wyoming tourist town, I was swallowed in the bustle and charm of the Old West.
Resting my suitcase at the curb, I stretched. The bus moved on, making visible Sheridan Avenue’s attractions across the way. A hotel stood nearby.
Buffalo Bill Cody – co-founder of the town bearing his name – had built the hotel in 1902, and christened it “Irma”, after his youngest daughter. He praised the lodging as “just the sweetest hotel that ever was”.
I shifted my weight to my better leg and wondered at the flow of tourists entering and exiting Hotel Irma. To most, their destination lay fifty miles away. For now they could unwind in Cody – “eastern gateway to Yellowstone Park.”
Taking up the suitcase I set off for my new living quarters. A stranger to independent living, I settled into a tidy rental room in a private home. The room had no kitchen.
“Would you like coffee, Sir?”
First morning in Cody found me at a diner two blocks from the Irma. I nodded to the waitress. “Sure, thanks. And I’ll just have a couple eggs over-easy, with bacon and some toast.”
The young lady went silent, staring wide-eyed.
“Uh, Sir. If you don’t mind, um, could you repeat your order?” As I spoke, she seemed to dissect each word I voiced.
“Mm, excuse me, sir.” She appeared distracted, and oddly excited. “Please, wait just a minute. I’ll be right back!”
In seconds she returned, a second young waitress in tow.
“Sir? If you don’t mind, could you repeat your order – just once more – for my friend here, please?
Both girls leaned forward.
It was then I caught on. Neither had heard an Oklahoma drawl. Even in a tourist town, my voice was an oddity. . . early morning marvel to a café wait staff.
Two days later the matter of accents resurfaced.
It was my first Wyoming Sunday and I slipped into Cody’s Assembly of God church. In seconds a familiar kind of sound caught my attention – a pronounced drawl rooted in one of Oklahoma’s seventy-seven counties.
But which county?
©2019 Jerry Lout
Writer-Speaker Jerry Lout schooled at Okmulgee’s Wilson Elementary, Preston High and O.S.U. Okmulgee. Jerry authored “Living With A Limp”, from which this piece is edited ( Amazon.com ). Additional narratives are posted on his blog at www.jerrylout.com. He may be reached at jerrylout@gmail.com.