the gold in the buckle... Rodeo part 4

You just can’t get enough of this stuff, can you? I’m glad you’re back. Last you read we had a full year to recover from Rodeo, but the memory just wouldn’t die. At the first sign of spring we were already anxious. We had a plan this time, and we weren’t going to let lack of sleep crash our party. So James and I both requested the Friday before Rodeo off.

We were leaving from Cincinnati Friday morning. We took the entire day to drive, leisurely, down south, deeper and deeper into dixieland. Set your music to “Song of the south”, by Alabama, this time. 

We arrived in Auburn around 4, which gave us plenty of time to catch up with Bueter and get ourselves fixed up. Since we had come down the day before, this time, we actually had time to see the sights of Auburn and go out on the town. We got dressed up and headed to what I assume is one of the only bars in the area, Skybar. It was packed. Every girl was wearing tight white skinny jeans and 6 inch heels. The guys had on their normal ‘fit: jeans, collared shirt and boots, sometimes a visor (yea, I didn’t know people still wore those either). There was a live cover band and we sang and danced to almost every song among the strangers. We were there until about 1 in the morning, and had a great time. We even saw a fight (fight! fight! fight!).

We crashed when we got home, but still got a solid 7 or so hours of sleep. We knew what we were in for this time. When we got up we were ready to go. Again, Bueter had to work, so it was just James and I making the journey on our own. We stocked up on beer before we headed down, though. Crisis averted.

We sat in the same pick-up conga line and inched our way toward hillbilly heaven. This year we knew what we would see, but that didn’t stop us from practically bursting with anticipation and excitement. We had taken Bueter’s truck. All I wanted to do was climb out of the truck, out onto the bed, and dance and scream.

I stepped up my redneck that year and wore some cut-off jeans. I was showing off those badass boots. The journey began again. We parked and started out trek towards the epicenter. Bueter had met up with us at this point, and got to enjoy the same experience we had last year. We laughed and joked with the people we met, shared beers, helped people up, tripped and fell ourselves, but eventually we made it through the rows of parked trucks and parties to the arena. 

This year we got the full VIP experience. For the rodeo we were hanging onto the gate that separated us from the bucking broncos. Behind us was the mechanical bull, and God bless any girl who climbed up there. I think the fake bull behind us was getting just as much attention as the real ones in front of us. Music blared and the announcers called the riders and horses. We watched as dirt and riders flew right before our eyes. People were clinging to the fences all the way around the ring, they were climbing up on them and standing on the trailers, everyone had a good view. At one point a horse threw a rider and crashed to the ground right in front of us. We had to duck away from being kicked in the head when the horse righted himself. Dirt and mud showered over us and we all yelled. Even me, although this... wait for it... wasn’t my first rodeo (Ay-ooooo!).

Bueter orchestrating the tug.