In a previous life in San Antonio, each February our boss would send out a memo encouraging employees to wear Western clothes to work to celebrate the annual arrival of the stock show and rodeo. His assumption was that a bunch of pasty, pudgy people who worked every day in front of computers kept a stock of Ropers, Stetsons, Wrangler jeans, 6-inch belt buckles, piped shirts and dusters tucked away in the backs of their closets. For emergencies, one supposes. You never knew when a stampede might break out in front of the Alamo, near the Burger King and the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum, and all hands would be needed to rush downtown... More >>>