the white in his knuckles... Rodeo part 3

In order for all of this to make sense you should be reading each post in order (Rodeo part 1, Rodeo part 2... you get it... and if not, then welcome to the blogosphere). Next song: “Honeybee,” by Blake Shelton.

By about 6 we heard the first strums of a guitar. We turned around for the opening band and danced and sang along to the songs we knew. Everyone was dancing, everywhere. The crowd near the stage was settled in, but around the arena everyone was having a ball. Soon after the opening act a second band took the stage. I would like to say I remember who it was but I’ll be honest... We had packed plenty of beer but not enough water. I was sunburnt and exhausted. At that time I was curled up around our cooler on a small grassy hill. 

Bueter had finished his duties and met up with James. They left me with the cooler to go in search of food. It was the most comfortable a pile of dirt could ever be. Every time I opened my eyes to check and see if they had returned I found myself with a new friend. The first time I opened them I found a guy curled up around the other side of our cooler, looking just as cozy as myself. The next time I opened them someone else was sitting on top of the cooler, their head in their hands. The next time, there were two girls on the other side of me curled up, as well. By the time Bueter and James actually did return from their journey for food we had occupied the entire length of the small hill. It was a straight-up slumber party, yo.

The sun was quickly setting and the temperature was cooling. After a brief lull in the music we heard the first strums and screaming fans of Blake Shelton, the main event. I managed to get myself back up, slightly refreshed, and joined the jubilation and dancing for as long as I could. 

The music was great and close. The crowd was rowdy and raucous. It was a great time for everyone (awake, at least). After the concert we slowly trudged the way back to the car. This time in the pitch black, the only light guiding us from the headlights on cars along the rows. By that time I could barely hold my head up. The day had defeated me. The combination of four hours sleep, jet lag, no food and all beer had won. I walked along, arm in arm with James, singing a Miranda Lambert song the entire way. Then I found twenty dollars (for real!). We eventually made it back to the car and sat, for a while, to collect ourselves, and to let the crowds thin.

We arrived back at the trailer and reheated some pizza from the night before. It was about midnight now, if I remember correctly. As soon as I could I climbed into bed and bit the dust (literally... it was everywhere). 

We awoke the next morning around 6. I cracked open my eyes at the sound of the screaming alarm and there before me, just inches from my face, a cockroach crawled past my nose. I was too tired and hungover to do anything but smile at him as he went. Oh the joys of springtime in Alabama. We got up and packed quickly so we could hit the road and make it home by dark, rest and go back to work the next day.

It was a whirlwind of a weekend. We drove 16 hours for one event. It was definitely worth the drive, and the time. It was also the first time I have ever heard the pick-up line, “Were you puking under that semi earlier? Yea... I thought I recognized that butt poking out!”  But this was only our first year. We decided on our way home that we would attend the rodeo every year we could... and we swore we would be prepared for year 2...

Stay tuned for revelations from year 2! If you thought it couldn’t get any better... you’re so so wrong.