Wanting to expand my repertoire from the semi-ungainly skillset of divisive food writing, I decided to try my hand at fashion reporting this past weekend by covering an Indigenous fashion show at Thunderbird Casino.
I spent nearly a week mentally preparing myself for the bright lights of the paparazzi hitting the small town.
I read up on fashion reporting and even considered pressing my finest designer flannel, but when I arrived on the scene to showcase the glitz and glamour of the casino-set fashionistas, I learned the show was canceled.
To be fair, I think the show was canceled.
The only evidence I could find that it even existed was on a flyer I stumbled across over a month ago. Maybe I was at the wrong spot, or maybe it was nothing but a hallucination, but my dreams of being surrounded by glamorous people judging me as I judged them walking down a runway were gone.
Such is life…
Dejected, I spent a few minutes walking through the sad and empty event space, listening to my footsteps echo into the empty void. I then walked into the casino proper, looking for a drink to take my mind off these horrific shambles of a waning personality.
As I arrived at the concession area, I grabbed a sugar-free Red Bull to rush out my disappointment. But once I popped the top of the can, I noticed the new menu.
This was my first visit to Thunderbird Casino since my great catfish excursion in September of 2022.
Since then, the menu had been updated, including new variations of hot dogs, hamburgers, and pizza. It was new and different, and nothing really stuck out, until I spotted one of my favorite food staples – a Full House Fried Bologna Sandwich.
With no stylish fashion folks there to judge me and ridicule my taste, I couldn't resist. I quickly put in my order for this white trash delicacy that was revamped by the good people of Thunderbird.
With two slices of generic white bread, the sandwich features thick-cut double-stacked bologna slices, a slice of American cheese and painted-on mustard, along with a whole bag of kettle-cooked chips and a pickle spear. The damage was seven bucks, and included a Styrofoam cup of your favorite carbonated beverage.
In its own unique way, it was simply incredible – a four-on-the-floor treat made with the thickest lunch meat possible, filling my mouth with the greatest and trashiest Oklahoma flavors imaginable.
So yeah, I may have missed my moment to bask in the fashionable light of the well-worn sun, but it was more than worth it to experience the fried bologna of my youth.
But to be fair, I still want to write about haute couture of Indigenous people of Oklahoma. Maybe someday…right?