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We were set up at a brewery by a mutual friend that I worked with.
At the time, our friend and I had just finished resurrecting a wax museum, and my husband was making burlwood furniture. Our friend had just gotten a job bartending and when we ran into each other at the store, he asked me to go see him at the bar that evening. When I went it, he sat me on a specific barstool, and five minutes later my husband walked in and took over his regular seat next to me. Our bartender had a shit eaten grin on his face when he saw us chatting. The rest is history.
I had learned that the reason that was the stool he sat on every night (closest to the door) was because he always left a ring of sawdust around the barstool when he left. They called him "Dusty Trails".
At the time, our friend and I had just finished resurrecting a wax museum, and my husband was making burlwood furniture. Our friend had just gotten a job bartending and when we ran into each other at the store, he asked me to go see him at the bar that evening. When I went it, he sat me on a specific barstool, and five minutes later my husband walked in and took over his regular seat next to me. Our bartender had a shit eaten grin on his face when he saw us chatting. The rest is history.
I had learned that the reason that was the stool he sat on every night (closest to the door) was because he always left a ring of sawdust around the barstool when he left. They called him "Dusty Trails".