A couple of years ago our family was traveling to a family reunion; our destination was a cabin high up in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. We were driving, and it was our final day of travel. We had left the flatlands of western Colorado, and though we hadn’t reached the really high places, the highway was ascending into the mountains. We needed to stop for lunch and we pulled off the highway near a small mountain town to check the possibilities. We ended up having a really nice lunch. But before our lunch, we got a taste of what it is to be a tourist.

Our adventure began when we pulled off the highway. There was a travelers’ rest stop which included restrooms and a small museum. In the museum were displays describing the geology, biology (wildlife) and recreational amenities of the area. We browsed around a little, stretched our legs, and then we asked the attendant at the counter for a recommendation; we needed a place to eat lunch.

Right away, she said that “The Creekbend” was the best food in town. She gave us directions, and we drove into this quaint little mountain town looking for The Creekbend restaurant.

After driving up and down several narrow downtown streets without finding the restaurant, we decided to stop and ask for further directions at a gas station. My husband got out of the car and went into the convenience store at the station. He spoke to the lady at the counter, “Could you tell me where to find The Creekbend restaurant?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” she answered. “But I’m new in town.”

Thankfully there were a couple of “locals” in the store also; they were more-than-happy to help.
Again my husband asked, “Have you ever heard of The Creekbend restaurant?”

Both of the “locals” returned his question with blank stares. “Are you lookin’ for a sit-down restaurant?” one lady inquired.

“Yes!” he said.

“You’ve got to try The Pink Pig!” she enthused. “It’s the best food in town!”

“They do have picnic tables,” a young man standing behind her said. Then he pointed outside; there was a small food truck/trailer selling tacos and tostadas. “This place behind us here is really good too.” he said. Hmmm – it wasn’t exactly a sit-down restaurant.

As my husband returned to the car, we were a bit confused. The Creekbend restaurant – the best restaurant in town – seemed to be a non-entity or else a very well-kept secret. We were disappointed we couldn’t find it. But now we were armed with directions and recommendations to another eating establishment – The Pink Pig. We were determined to find it.

We traveled back down the street toward the center of town following the directions we were given:

“Turn right on 3^rd Street…
go to the end of the street…
it’s right across the street from Jon’s Liquor,…
you can’t miss it.”

We were getting H-U-N-G-R-Y. We were looking forward to a nice meal and a little time to recoup from the fatigue of traveling. As we pulled up to The Pink Pig, this is what we saw: an empty parking lot with a small portable trailer/shack parked in the middle of the lot. There was a picnic table next to the trailer and the trailer sported a sign that read, “The Pink Pig”.

The Pink Pig was not a sit-down restaurant. The Pink Pig was not open for business. The Pink Pig was deserted. We were shocked. As we gazed out the car window in disbelief, I began to see the humor in the situation. “This is funny.” I said. “I think we’ve been had.”

“Do you think this was some kind of joke?” my husband said.

“I think so. Let’s take a picture.” So we did.

Afterward we drove to the main downtown area – again. We needed to eat; we were going to eat; we just were not sure where we would eat. We parked the car and began traversing the downtown area on foot. Creekbend or no Creekbend – we needed to eat. And what did we find just a few short strides from our car? – The Creekbend restaurant! We had a very delicious lunch, our good humor and equanimity returned and we were able to discuss the events preceding our lunch with a good sprinkling of laughter and giggles.

Was The Pink Pig a sit-down restaurant?
“I suppose it was.” my husband concluded, “After all, there was a picnic table outside.”