Rodeo: Pleasant Grove Style

Last Saturday, I went to a rodeo for the first time in my life. My country-dancing roommate (who happens to have a taste for swarthy men) yelled to me down the hall one evening, asking if I would like to go with them to a rodeo. I consented out of pure curiosity.

I don't feel inclined to go to a rodeo again; I can move on with my life. Some of the tricks were cool, but most of the cowboys didn't even score. There was only one hotshot from Lehi who managed to stay on the bull for eight seconds. I'll admit that I did croon with the rest of the crowd when they let the mama horses run around the arena with their brand new babies. But the clown was unbelievably lame. I'm not sure I even smiled during his routine (except perhaps for the part where he pulled out a bra and said it reminded him of Barack Obama--"losing support every day").

My favorite part was when they had the little kids come riding out in the arena on the sheep. Most of the "kiddie" rides ended tragically, with the kids running back--their helmets askew--to cry in the arms of their parents watching from behind the arena fence. But one little girl, Caitlin, held on for a long time and won. Talk about girl-power. She was all of five years old.

Everything western seems bigger. Hips, hair, boots, and booze. I don't know how well I would fit in with a western context, but they certainly seemed like a cheerful bunch.