When we arrived, our host, Hannah, dressed in 1880s style, cheerfully explained the process. We were being blamed for a crime we didn’t commit, to be locked in a small jail cell and discover clues that would lead us out and eventually clear our names before the U.S. Marshal came to take us to the gallows!
The saloon is carefully decorated – so well that it felt like we were in a museum.
“We’re too polite!” we kept saying, somewhat ambivalent about rifling through other people's belongings. But ransack, you must!
"Pretend you're looking for chocolate," I suggested to Wayne, as it's difficult to actually keep any in the house. He ferrets the stuff out no matter where I try to hide it.
The clues that emerge are a compelling mélange of codes, problem solving, and the delight that comes with figuring things out together. Hannah, as the bartender, softly suggested clues when we got stuck. I can see where a few more “eyes” might have been helpful and in this process, although the experience was refreshingly engaging with just the two of us.