Y’all. This is not my story, but my mom’s and my grandma’s, but I have to tell it because it deserves to be told.
A little background. My grandma is 90 years old and broke her hip this summer. She’s recovered quite nicely, but add that to her no longer being able to drive, and entertainment options are limited, to say the least. Her favorite thing in the world is to play the slots. My mom takes her to the casino (about an hour and change (sometimes a LOT of change, bah dum bum) away) every month or so, and it makes her very happy. My mom came away with a nice 3 figure win this week. But that’s not the story.
(Also, apologies to my mom if I get any of the details wrong. Mom, you can correct my in the comments if you wish.)
(I love parentheses. Ahem.)
So mom and grandma were sitting in the open area grabbing a bite to eat when they notice this tall guy wearing a ¾ length leather coat, boots, and a cowboy hat, apparently looking for all the world like he’s about to go rustle some steers (or maybe buy a fleet of Cadillacs – it’s a toss up). As he walked past them, my grandmother, who is the world’s foremost extrovert and has never met a stranger ever, called out to him, telling him just that. He came over to them and Grandma asked if he was a real cowboy. He said no, ma’am, he couldn’t make any money as a cowboy, so he had to go out and find a way to get rich and then he could be a cowboy. As he shook Grandma’s hand and introduced himself as Kenny, he winked at my mom, who promptly fainted.*
He stood and talked with my grandmother for 10 minutes. Neither he nor my mother outed his identity, and my grandma went about her meal thinking she’d just had a nice encounter with some dude named Kenny. Later on, my mom Googled him, confirming that it was the real Kenny Chesney (just in case he was really just a doppelganger milking the situation), and showed his picture to my grandma. “Well, that’s Kenny.”
“Look again, Mom, at his last name.”
And then Grandma promptly fainted.**
** Also, not really.