Early Childhood UN-development, Self-Esteem Building for Teens and Rodeo Clowns.

So over a decade ago I promised the second part of my rodeo escapades. Here it goes:

When one attends the Houston Live Stock show, they are quickly reminded that in Texas there's a fine line between child abuse and mass entertainment. This is clearly demonstrated in the Mutton Bustin event. I'm serious when I state that my jaw did indeed drop when I first witnessed this.

Mutton Bustin is the last event every night at the rodeo before the BIG COUNTRY CONCERT!!! WOOO!! (I'll address that in a few paragraphs. Yes, it does directly correlate with that $18 ticket price.) Any how, the art of Mutton Bustin has a few precursors. First, you must have a parent willing to endanger their child's life for 30 seconds of fame. Second, you must purchase a child-size flack jacket (Did not even know they made those in children's sizes) With these two steps done, your little cowboy, or cowgirl, is ready to be thrown on the back of a sheep who will run a terrifying several hundred feet and thus solidify your child's unconscious hatred for you. Once the child is trampled, bucked off or the sheep just stops running two grown-up cowboys will hoist him or her off the beast and a interview for the jumbotron will take place. The child, if not fully catatonic, will state through tears and sniffles that he or she had a blast. Several thousand people will cheer and I die a little bit inside.

I have two other favorite events at the the actual rodeo, the "Yes Young High Schoolers, We Are All Making Fun Of You" event and the "Sorry That Bull Castrated You. If We All Cheer Extra Loud You Get A Free Airplane Ticket!" event.

The  "Yes Young High Schoolers, We Are All Making Fun Of You" event is simple. 20 or so rambunctious teenagers (FFA or 4H or some farm club I guess) are lined up in the center of the arena. A giant white rectangle is drawn in the center. Suddenly, 15 calves are released and all hell breaks loose. The object for these adolescents is to catch a calf and drag it to the rectangle. If they accomplish that, they get to keep said cow (And to think, all I got when I read a book during the summer was a personal pan pizza). Have you seen a 115 pound child try to drag a 300 pound cow? Physics simply states that this is not possible. The more testosterone prone boys will try to put their cow in a head lock, the sad part is that just leaves them in the dirt with a cow in a head lock. No progress is made. Not like a referee comes and pounds the ground 10 times and you win. The smarter ones chase after the calves near the adults. With that move a really pathetic looking girl is bound to attract the sympathy of a nearby cowboy who will haul the creature in for her (Chivalry is alive in a strange way in Texas). The rest just hope they head lock their calf close enough the rectangle so that when time runs out they are given the "Close Enough" nod. Once again a drunk crowd is roaring with ridicule. Self esteem boosting at its finest I'm sure.

"Sorry That Bull Castrated You. If We All Cheer Extra Loud You Get A Free Airplane Ticket!" event is like a western version of America's Funniest Home Videos. They show a highlight real of cowboys getting thrown by bulls. Most of them involve the bull reminding the cowboy that he is a large angry animal and that cowboy is a wee creature in this status quo. Horns reach places they shouldn't, hooves land on vertebrae and the standard to be a "Texas Man" is set to a suicidal high. It's ok though. If I cheer loud enough for the gentleman who will now be eating his meals through a tube, he receives a plane ticket to anywhere in the lower 48. Do they serve peanuts in liquid form?

Finally, I address the craziest people at the rodeo. It's not me, for subjecting myself to this debacle. It's not the guy next to me who has a flask in each pocket and is risking a nose-dive from the nose-bleed section with every drunken pee break. It's not even the cowboys who jump on the back of an angry 2 ton animal with large horns. It's the Rodeo Clowns. I imagine the job requirements for that particular position reads like this: Must be clinically insane. These fellows have one job, when the cowboy is catapulted off the bull, get the creatures attention while the cowboy runs to safety. So, when the guy who pissed the bull off in the first place is running away like a petrified child a rodeo clown waves his arms, smacks the bull and runs in circles to keep the creature occupied.

Here is how I would perform in that occupation:
Bull: Ha, I knocked the cheeky bastard off. My turn to ride him. Where did he go?
Me: (From the stadium parking lot)Where did I park my car again?

Oh, and as for that headliner concert that follows the rodeo? 10 songs from that particular artists greatest hits album in a stadium definitely not designed for smooth acoustics.

I think the double flask guy has the right idea.

Cowboy hats, Carnival rides and Lifetime calorie intakes.

Ha, I warned you all that turtles complete life journeys in between my blog posts. I'm working on that. For lent I gave up procrastination, well, that's my goal for lent 2012.

So on to the subject, eh? Every March, Houston, Texas becomes every cowboy's fantasy. Bulls, cows, steers and finally, cute cowgirls. The Houston Rodeo just might be one of the current modern wonders of the world.

Last spring I had my first taste of this event. I threw on the closest thing I have to a western shirt and laughed when someone asked if I was going to wear my cowboy boots. I've never ridden a horse or shot a gun, cowboy boots would likely shrivel up in shame upon me touching them.

So I set off with a few friends towards the ginormous Relient Stadium complex (complete with the defunct, ugly old Astrodome right next door).

I'll give you all a quick run-down of how entering the Houston Rodeo goes:
- Pay waaay too much for parking, then walk about 5 miles to the midway gate, which is still about 6 miles from the actual stadium.

- Practice your Heisman moves as you work through the massive crowd. Small children tend to run at will here, if you step on one, or kick one, run away quickly. If the parent/guardian actually makes eye contact with you, point accusingly at a nearby stranger who seems less agile than you (seniors with walkers are my go-to's on this).
     - Sub note: while zipping through the crowd, keep an eye out for golf carts and listen for their honking. They don't slow down, never stop and if you get hit, you'll be lucky if they radio for medical assistance as they fly towards their own Rodeo Emergency. Additionally, watch out for cowboys with boot spurs or wear shin guards.

- Try to only grab two pieces of carnival food. Stay away from the booth that fries anything that ever  exsisted. I learned that the hard way
     - Me: Umm, fried Snickers bar? Jackpot! Free carton of fried Oreos with a double purchase? Hell ya! No way this could be a terrible idea. Definitely no way this could lead to me consuming my next 10 years worth of calories.
     - Stomach: I give up on you. Seriously, I give up on you.

- Stumble to the stadium gate with your yard-long twist margarita. Remind yourself it's completely manly because you saw a extremely manly cowgirl drinking one. Try not to cry when you remember her and her friends laughing at you.

- Herd through the gate like cattle (Ironic, right? Herding like cows into the rodeo? Take that Alanis!) P.S. remember those fried treats you accidentally fell on and inhaled on the midway? They will begin a battle royale with your stomach as you climb a mile into the air to get to the nose bleed seats for which you paid $18.

- Prepare to feel like you are actually a Texan for 3 hours.

Tomorrow I'll share more, like how the rodeo reminds awkward teenagers that everyone really is pointing and laughing at them and how some parents in Texas have perfected the art of emotionally scarring their children with out having someone call CPS on them.

Additionally, I have a new roommate living on my couch. I'll name him in my next blog because I'm quite positive my future stories will include him.