You know what, Skippy? Mom's not going to be impressed by your souvenir shot-glass collection or that autographed poster of the Coors Twins hanging over your futon. And while Dad might appreciate the engineering involved in turning your roommate's fish tank into a giant six-hitter bong, you know he's not going to like it when you serve him Beefaroni and nachos on paper plates. So if your parental units are coming for a visit and you want to show them how far their progeny has come, just suck it up and make reservations at the Fort. Owner Sam'l P. Arnold has been making his bones (marrow-filled) at this restaurant-cum-attraction of the Old West for forty years. The gorgeous views from the Foothills, the decor (the restaurant sits inside a replica of Bent's Fort) and the food (bison tongue, bull testicles, gunpowder whiskey) provide more than enough diversion to keep the talk from straying too close to uncomfortable topics like how that philosophy degree they paid for still hasn't gotten you out of your job selling popcorn and Goobers to the crowds at the local AMC.