Little America Transports the Weary Traveler

Next time you plan on being in Cheyenne, Wyo., whether daytripping or passing through on the way to or from someplace else, set aside an hour or two to visit Little America. That might sound like a lot of time to spend at a roadside restaurant, but this is the type of place you'll want to savor. And with this history -- emblematic of the grit and generosity that define this part of the country -- how could you resist?

The place is not easy to find (don't let all the billboards fool you), but consider it an adventure scouting it out. It's nestled away near the intersection of Interstates 25 and 80, and you have to know what you are looking for.

Once you enter the resort, drive past the gas station and continue on toward the stately building at the top of the hill. Park near the flagpole and head for the grand (though not ostentatious) entrance. You will be greeted, to your left, by a museum-quality taxidermied penguin and, to your right, a grizzled-looking Native American mannequin sporting a full headdress and tribal garb. None of this is as kitschy as it sounds. On the contrary, my 7-year-old son was sure we'd made some mistake and walked into a museum.

That theme continues in the gift shop, which you will encounter near the entrance. There are no cheap trinkets and tchotkes here. You will find enticing exhibits of artwork, jewelry, clothing -- all of it capturing some essence of the American West.

The real attraction, though, is Hathaways.

If you are like my family, you don't travel in your Sunday best. That might make you hesitate when you turn the corner toward the restaurant and find a finely suited maitre d'. Don't worry. Little America takes all comers. It also has menu prices similar to an Applebee's, a Chili's or a T.G.I. Friday's, but the experience is incomparable.

My family of five was seated at a plush table-booth combo that had the elegant sweep of a throne or royal daybed. Above us hung a large chandelier that could only be described as both ornate and understated. It brought out our most regal manners -- for the most part, anyway.

The kids ordered off the children's menu: two hotdog takers, one fish and chips. My husband and I, marking our return to Nebraska living after more than 10 years away, ordered Reuben sandwiches, to which our home state claims the bragging rights (though some in New York quibble). The fish and chips were to come with what was described as "mixed vegetables" (which always makes me picture a mushy melange of cubed carrots, peas, lima beans and corn). The accompaniment turned out to be exquisitely roasted asparagus spears and baby carrots. We ordered a second helping.

The food was homey, fresh and delicious. The ambiance transported us to a time when men regularly wore fedoras and fine suits and women wore tailored dresses and cloche hats. The kids finished their dinners with hand-scooped ice cream served in glass goblets (included in the meal price). And the final tab: $35, plus a $7 tip.

It's good to be home.