Kyle felt very out of place in his shiny blue Prius as he pulled into the parking lot full of loud, mud covered trucks. He could feel the stares of the lumberjacks as he exited the car wearing a madras shirt and cargo pants.

He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat, and put it on one shoulder. As he walked past a couple of rough looking lumberjacks smoking, he was almost expecting one of them to spit at his tennis shoes, and say something along the lines of "What are you doing here, city boy?"

Thankfully, nobody did that. However, Kyle was still a little concerned about his car. He just brushed it off, and went into the bar.

As he walked in, he spotted the table of people that he presumed were others that responded to the flyer. He walked up.

"Excuse me, are you guys the people that responded to the flyer?"