rodeo

We went to the Pikes Peak or Bust Rodeo tonight. Mark had to iron his Whittington Center shirt before we left, so we were running a little late. This turned out to be a blessing.

Upon arrival, we nudged our way through the crowd to find the ticket line. A friendly couple came up to us and asked, "Are you waiting to buy tickets?" We were. They made us promise to visit the Big R in Falcon soon, and shoved two free vouchers for front seat tickets into our hands. Still a little stunned, we stood in the immovable line a few minutes more. Mark was meanwhile approached by an older gentleman who was amazed to see the shirt: his brother-in-law produces the shirts! He saw that we were stuck in line, and handed us two tickets. "Give those vouchers to someone else," he ordered us, and melted into the crowd. When we asked directions to the seats, we discovered that we had front row, center box seats! The gentleman, sitting in the box, leaned over and said, "I bet your husband is glad he wore that shirt tonight." Boy, were we.

We looked some of the barrel racers and their horses right in the eye. Horses and steers were walked within reach of us. The Army hero who parachuted in with a banner of the flag on his TWO prosthetic legs landed nearly on top of us. We cheered for the 60-some-year-old barrel racer (there's inspiration for you) as she came in first place; encouraged all those who fell off horses, missed their steers, and the youth who fell off the sheep; hollered for the 6-year-old who ran his mutton right into the herd of sheep and half-way across the arena; oohed at the fireworks; caught our breath when the wheel came off the chuck wagon during the chuck wagon race; tried to ignore the huge, black, ancy Clydesdale feet away from us during the national anthem; and we laughed at the clown who comes all the way from Tennessee by popular demand. All in all we found the experience thrilling, so Miah and I are hooked. I can't wait for PBR now.