Now, I’d never seen myself as that kind of girl. Not in the boots, not in the fringe, not deep in the Oregon high desert under a blistering sun with cowboy hats bobbing like buoys in a sea of dust. But sometimes the universe nudges you—just hard enough to send you tumbling—and before you know it, you're slapping a bag of whiskey with a group of strangers and crying during a Sturgill Simpson set in the middle of nowhere.