A good friend of ours goes to Manchester to watch the bull riding every year. This year she invited my wife and I to join her and her husband in Manchester to enjoy the show.
When the night arrived we drove over to Derry, switched to their car and off we went. After parking we walked over the road to the SNHU Arena, went through security, and wandered through the venue looking at all the merchandise for sale. I bought a hard seltzer and went over to the food booth. I wanted a hot dog with all the toppings except mustard, ketchup and pickle which meant all I got was a miserable looking dog in a bun. I did ask if I could have some of the cheese used to top the nachos. I would have got a better response if I had asked the bank for a gold bar.
We found our seats, made ourselves comfortable, and waited for the show to start. Actually, on time, two females came out with some sort of mascot, several guys came out and started pouring liquid into groves in the sawdust. I was just about to take a sip of my drink when there was a huge bang, sparks flying everywhere, the liquid they had poured caught fire and the people behind me were grateful that I had left the top on my drink.
After introducing the riders, no bulls were introduced which I thought was a bit mean, the show got under way. On the big screen we watched as the riders, one by one, spent about ten minutes getting ready to go, the gate opened, and the rider promptly fell off the bull. All that getting ready for a 3 second ride. But then, suddenly, a rider stayed on for the full 8 seconds. Wicked exciting. The rider scored 85.5 points. I would of given him 100 just because he got the crowd going. I was actually enjoying myself when, after the third 8 second rider, my mind drifted back some 54 years. Back to when I was 18 and went on holiday to Spain with a friend of mine.
I don’t remember the resort we went to but I do remember that we went to a bull fight. We quite enjoyed it then went out for a steak with a couple of girls we had met. Two days later we went on an outing to a farm where they raised fighting bulls. After looking around the place we had a decent pick nick lunch and after lunch, they came round asking if anyone wanted to fight a bull. Well. After a nice lunch and about ten gallons of sangria I was only to happy to sign up.
We all walked over to the makeshift bull ring. Everyone else went up the steps and sat down while myself, and three other guys, went into the bull ring and, after a quick lesson, went and stood behind the safety boards. Some guys dressed as clowns came out, took the first willing bull fighter, gave him a red cloak and left him in the middle of the ring waiting for his bull. The gates opened and a wee, baby calf came trotting out. Everyone laughed and cheered. The other two guys took their turns and I noticed that the bulls were getting bigger and bigger. Finally it was my turn so I walked out, took the red cloak and stood waiting for the bull. I had worked out that I was likely to get an almost full grown bull and I had also figured that I could outrun it back to the boards.
I was brought back to the present by my wife nudging me to see if I was still awake. I looked at her, smiled, and asked if we were going for steaks after, and would she go get me another drink at the next interval.
I got my drink, no steak though, and sat and watched the rest of the show. I actually enjoyed it and said that I would like to go back again next year.
We drove back to our car, said goodnight to our friends, and drove home while chatting about the show. Wifie said she would like to go to a full rodeo one day. I said that would be wicked good so we agreed to try to fit some time in to go back to Texas one day.
Oh. I guess you want to know what happened in Spain.
Well I stood in the middle of the ring waiting for my bull to be released. Full of confidence that I could outrun the fool thing. I looked round for the clowns but they were hiding behind the boards so it was just me in the ring. There was a crash and the gates shook and the sound of hooves scraping the ground filled the air. Just don’t run in a straight line I thought. Zigzagging is better.
Finally the gates opened and, a donkey came running out. I remember saying “what the f….k” and laughing as I walked over to the donkey and petted it. The talk and laughing carried on to the bus and we were still talking about it half an hour later when we got back to the hotel.