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We had been at the Texas Ren Fest all day and were tired and more than a little hungry.  Turkey legs are all well and good, but we wanted real food in a place where we could sit down.  Navasota had a McDonald’s.  Blah.  A Pizza Hut.  Would take too long.  And… the world famous Wrangler Steak House.  If you don’t know it, one of the best places in the entire world to eat is at a steakhouse in a small town.  The food is all wonderful without a single thought given by the chef of fat content or cholesterol.  We decided to go there, and pulled into the parking lot.  There were an inordinate number of pickup trucks, even for that tiny Texas town.  We walked in.  All conversations stopped.  I think I heard crickets.    Eyes peered out at us from beneath cowboy hats.  Peered at my kilt.  Peered at Shane’s kilt.  Were agog and April’s gypsy outfit and Colleen’s pants with the slit all the way up each leg.  You’d think they’d be used to it by now, what with the Ren Faire just over the next hill, but you could almost hear people thinking, “DAMNED HIPPIES!“