By the time I staggered into Roosters Bar & Grill Boone Iowa, the world was already humming. #boone, Iowa—heartland America, where the corn grows tall, the beer flows cheap, and the people know how to have a damn good time. I was three craft beers deep, stomach howling like a wild dog, and the scent of sizzling meat drew me in like a moth to an open flame.
The burger came hot, fries crisp, and the beer colder than an ex-wife’s heart. The place had that lived-in warmth, the kind you only find in small-town bars where everybody knows each other’s names and secrets. A friendly crowd, salt-of-the-earth types, laughing and telling stories as the night geared up for whatever madness was about to unfold.
At 9 PM sharp, the band took the ground-level stage: Rural Route , three boys from Strafford, just a stone’s throw away. “We are a three-piece acoustic band with a powerful sound,” they claimed. “Mostly country, with some rock and alternative thrown in. And plenty of originals.” Bold words, but could they deliver?
Hell yes, they could.
They launched into a three-hour set, only pausing for the occasional gulp of beer and the polite smattering of applause that quickly turned into rowdy cheers. Dolly Parton to Alanis Morissette—a whiskey-soaked fever dream of classic country, rock, and unexpected anthems. Their originals fit in like old friends, honest and raw, the kind of songs that make you want to quit your job and start a new life on the open road.
The crowd was hooked, singing along, swaying, and by the second set, some brave souls even took to dancing. Good people, real people, the kind you’d want on your side in a bar fight or a tornado. The bartenders kept the drinks flowing, a well-oiled machine ensuring that no one’s throat went dry.
And then, just when it seemed like the night might settle down, the crowd demanded an encore. No one was ready to let go. The band obliged, tearing through one last song that sent the place into a frenzy. And then, just past midnight, they were gone—vanishing into the cool Iowa night, leaving behind only echoes and empty beer glasses.
Damn fine music. Damn fine night. Boone, you know how to throw a party 
