This – being “regular” – may be a good descriptor of this unassuming (make that… plain) gay place in the Sin City (i.e.
plaid short, Stetsons, tight jeans and well-worn boots). Alas, no, there weren’t any cowboys there at all – or maybe there were, but none of the guys there was at least wearing outfit we (stereotypically) associate with cowboys (e.g. He was, as he whispered while we were sitting at wooden stools at the bar, “expecting all these cowboys to be here”. Michael L., a journalist from Malaysia, was wearing long-sleeved plaid shirt when we visited.
