My First Rodeo Night

I convinced my dad to take me to my first real rodeo when I was seven years old.

Walking through those gates after dark was like stepping into another world. The arena lights

blazed down on red dirt while country music blasted from speakers older than me.

We found seats in the bleachers just as the bull riding started. These weren't gentle

farm animals. They were twelve hundred pounds of pure rage. The first rider

lasted maybe four seconds before getting launched into the air like a rag doll. The crowd went absolutely

wild. Then came the lassoing events. Cowboys on horseback chased calves at

full speed, ropes spinning above their heads. The precision was insane.