While I was out of town for my Grandmother’s funeral, we all took a break and went out to dinner. There aren’t many options in the area where Gram was raised. We went to the biggest restaurant in town. This restaurant is smack in the middle of nowhere, deep in the hills of Southwest PA. There’s nothing special about it from the outside — it’s a tavern that looks kind of cobbled together and ramshackle. Imagine my surprise upon entering and seeing this —
The owner traveled to Africa several times to go on safaris. He apparently like to shoot things. Lots of them. As stunned as I was by the number of stuffed real animals, I was equally puzzled by the number of stuffed play ones on display. The stuffed Christmas moose right in front of the gazelle being suffocated by a lion just made it all seem kinda creepy and weird to me. There were artifacts all over the place, too — hooves in the bathroom, on lamps, strange footstools, and equal amounts of fluffy toys. Bizarre.
The food was good. And cheap. Makes one wonder how so many trips to shoot and kill were funded by $3 BLTs.