the bulls and blood... Rodeo part 2

So, you’re tuning in from “The dust and mud... Rodeo Part 1”. Good job. I knew you would want to hear more about this. Cue up your songs, this time it’s “Sweet home, Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

There we stood, in the middle of a redneck paradise. One girl crawled past us at an admirable pace, a cup clenched in her teeth. Another group of girls walked past, one stepped in a hole and tripped. Police officers stood and surveyed the chaos. Not 20 feet from the officers a group of people played “Louisville Chugger” and spun wildly before hitting an empty beer can into the air with a whiffle ball bat before collapsing in laughter on the grass. This was it. When a hillbilly dies, this is what his heaven looks like.

After watching the fun and games for a few beers we decided to start our march towards the arena. James drug the cooler along and I followed behind, watching and taking pictures of all the great things I saw. With every row we got closer to the redneck epicenter, and with every row there were more and more people camped out, playing games under large canopies, tossing back brewskies, lounging on coolers, grilling out, and having a great time. It was as if each row unlocked another level of the paradise. We were getting close.

It was when we came upon an SUV bearing an entire johnboat on top that I knew we had officially arrived. The johnboat strapped to the top of the truck held a giant rebel flag and 4 men covered in bandanas, dust, and cut-off denim. They were singing and dancing and who knows how they were going to get down. 

I opened my eyes wider and saw it, the epicenter: the arena. There was a rider bouncing around on the back of a crazed horse, cattle stood to watch, and semi truck trailer beds circled around, sprawling with people. Flags were flying 30 feet high on bamboo poles and wiggling in the air due to the sway of the dancing masses below. Music was blaring over the loudspeakers and everything was covered in a fine layer of red dust and barbeque smoke. It was amazing. 

James and I decided to circumvent the crowd to see as much as we could and to find Bueter to let him know we had made it. Cowboy hats and bikini tops circled around us. There were people as far as the eye could see. There is no way to express the great expanse of this gathering, other than to mention that last year they sold well over 10,000 tickets.

We finally found Bueter, helping shuffle the cars in, pointing people in the direction of parking spots, and helping the security guards check cars. Judging by the length of the line of cars, we knew he would be busy for a while. It was now about 3 in the afternoon. 

We stood for a while and chatted before heading back to the epicenter. We talked to people along the way, sharing beer and passing compliments back and forth. My ingenious neck strap koozie was a huge hit. Go get ya’selfs one.

We finally settled on the edge of a trailer bed overlooking the covered arena. We watched as horses with amateur riders bucked and ran. We talked to our neighbors and cheered on the brave riders. We pet the longhorn cattle in the pen nearby, who were patiently waiting their turn to be “wrestled” to the ground. All the while, a crowd was swelling behind us, surrounding a huge stage.