Luckily, things went uphill from there. We walked the two blocks over to the PBR Big Sky bar, paid our $5 to get in, and stayed there all night. We thought we might bar hop a bit, but we were all having a blast drowning in flannel and cowboy hats. The bachelorette may have even rode the mechanical bull; I am unable to confirm or deny that accusation. The only part I disliked about the bar was that during my favorite jam of the month, Timber by Kesha and Pitbull, we all got pushed to the side of the dance floor so the go-go cowgirl dancers could perform a dance. This isn't a strip club, and I'm not paying to watch them dance. Oh, and all the broken glass on the floor was getting ridiculous. I don't recall getting into a bar brawl so it must have been one of the rowdy cowboys. While I'm no rowdy cowgirl myself, I'm glad my husband has made me just country enough to fit right in.