The Colosseum is round with grey color, and has a parking lot, a gate with people and those flashlight lightsaber tools, making people pay. When Dad and I checked it out earlier, we tried to turn around and there were a few people yelling at each other, saying they had V.I.P. passes or something of the sort. Now, the only bad part seemed the traffic and lack of spaces in the parking lot. We weren't allowed to take cameras, or video cameras, for that matter, and cell phones were ether hidden or not with you. But at the same time they told people to secure and hide valuables in the vehicle. They said this not to us, but on signs, as is discreet. There were many country folk from all around, plaid shirts, ripped jeans, and instead of seeing a lot of cowboy hats and boots among the crowd, it was more caps, ripped up, of course. They were in tailgates, most with southern accents of mass descent or ancestry. I tried out a few "Pa's" and Ma's" when addressing my parents, and I said reckon and yonder and yes'm ample amounts. Also other words, but it would take a long time to name them all. But at the moment I put my phone in Mom's purse, and took my "To Kill a Mockingbird" under my jacket, for safe keeping. I was almost done with it, only a few more chapters. The dialect was as rich in that book as it was in the building, and it has a good story, very funny and inspirational. And at that time, I was almost finished with it.
We walked through some people as I saw the fronts of delivery trucks on the sidewalk, across from where you get tickets, which was filled up with people who hadn't reserved. But these trucks were right there! Probably because many of the visitors coming were truckers or of the sort. Inside that lobby I was talking about in my last blog post, the stairs on either sides, the booths where people sat behind the glass and everything and give you the tickets earlier, and then of course the fake dead bull with the rodeo and seats in the background,with cameras around. You pay money there to take a picture with it, and supposedly it looks "really real" as the announcer later said. It's bucking, and you're supposed to take a picture under it? Does that look real? A bucking animal and you're under it, smiling as it's legs our lifting up? Well, decide for yourself if it does. But there were men at the entrance, security, checking for tickets. One guy didn't have one, so the one security guard came over and hit him repeatedly in the chest, and then threw him up in a trashcan, and threw the trashcan into the parking lot with his legs sticking out. Very violent. Just kidding none of that happened. But when done giving them our tickets, we went up the stairs with all those people in between, and half of us were on one side, separated by a railing. Very steep steps.
Upstairs there were all kinds of little stands for shirts, toys, and a confession stand by the bathrooms, with their counter and menu serving food. In between all these were big doorways going to the Colosseum. There were sadly many large kids there, and Dad told me that Mississippi was the most obese state, said that it was a fact. Which is sad. But anyway, we went down all these stadium seats in a huge area, with a fence at the bottom around some dirt, with of course these signs telling about sponsors. The rows had rails and hard seats, as Dad looked at the tickets, then the seats, finding the row and the number. We sat in grey seats, not the other blue ones, and it was fairly close to the actual brown dirt where all the action happened. Only maybe half the distance of the R.V., downward. Over the arena (if you'll allow me to call it that name from here on out) was one of those big box things where they have the score for hockey games, with a little jumbotron, that showed constant sponsors and stuff like that. I looked around at the family with one kid with a huge cowboy hat and some others. The seats didn't have as many people as we had thought. We looked through the program, finding out that all the horses were from this guy who's name started with an R, and that this was the championship for the 2011 season, that there was going to be two more night of events.
Through the long list of rodeo people we found a Tyler Humble, who was actually from Roswell. We'd be rooting for him. It was kind of cool to find someone from our town. Really awesome. He was in the bare back riding section. As we talked a little and waited, I found myself with Rebecca on my right, Dad on my left, and Mom further on by Rebecca. An old couple, who Mom talked to a little later on and about the trip, was farther on to the right. I used country terms while looking on the jumbo screen, seeing the sponsors, and Rebecca thought it was a little annoying. So she urged me to tone down all the reckons and yes sirree. So I did for a while, and by and by through the whole rodeo I lost the accent altogether, and then was reminded a little and used it up again. Instead of reading I looked across the way to people in the seats, at the long horned and no horned cattle that were in either side inside metal tubed fences, and listened to the announcer saying it was close to the time, and say countless things you could do, the food, the gifts, hats, and some other things. A little annoying. A family came to some other people sitting, saying that they were sitting in their seats. But the people didn't move, saying that that statement was a false one. So, the people, not apologizing, realized the matter and then went down a row down across from us. They had a teenager, tan, who sat down on our row section, front rows, with constantly other people, mostly girls, came down, sat and talked, and texted on their phones. Young boys in the row upward, playing a game on the phone called Temple Run. I've recently gotten addicted to that stupid game.
20 minutes left. I went to the restroom, and boy was it stinky. One entrance, and then one entrance a few toilets and sinks down. Then I came back down. 10 minutes left, a guy over on the front side of the arena, with a table in front of him and people writing on papers, handing holding a microphone. I never found out this guy's name, so I will call him Simon from now on. Simon said this was the Professional Cowboy's Association Championship, assuring the audience this wouldn't be "like no regular rodeo," that "this is the Professional Cowboy's Association Championship" sponsored by the Riley Ranch's horses. He was young from what I saw(he was a ways away) and had black hair, and a cowboy hat. 5 minutes left. Then, it happened. Beautiful pretty girls in the bed of a white truck, coming from on our side, the right, out of a side entrance to the action of the arena, waving white t shirts around. As they came around to us, frantic people waved their hands and stood up, blocking other wanna bees of the t shirts, trying to be that one lucky person to twenty who actually get's there prize, like scratching off the numbers of a lottery card, crossing your fingers and praying. I put the book in between the seats, standing up to be the lucky guy. With a wave, a smile, and a wink, a throw, the t shirt soared, and...
It came into my chest as I fell back. It was all waddled up into a long rope thing. I was so happy to get it. I never thought I would get it, but I did. Rebecca was a little bummed it had been me, as I snuggled with the cold tee, watching as crazy people waved and got tees, and the girls went all the way around the oval arena. What people do to get a free t-shirt is unmeasurable. I mean I knew a guy who when they passed around the truck in a baseball game, was right by the field, and actually jumped in the truck, and struggled to get a few. Then he jumped out, ran out and hit the security guards on the butts, took a golf cart and rode it all the way to Rhode Island. They were in Connecticut. But just kidding. This never happened. So the tournament, if you will, was about to begin. I watched the little kids playing Temple Run on their phones, and thought of many things as Dad and I exchanged some dialogue. Mom was chatting away with the men. Then it started. The riders riding out, and first a small girl on a giant brown horse! It was crazy! She was holding an American flag. Others came out with all the sponsors, and they made a circle around. Many flags around. A few military people came out, and then there was a procession as one of them sang the National Anthem. The lights dimmed, we put our hands over our hearts, as they did something that could only be said in Mississippi, a totally un-politically correct state: "God, we hope that none of the men and women tonight, the riders or anyone, get's hurt or injured. Please have your guiding hand over them. Also, if anyone doesn't know you please have them to find you, Lord, tonight, and we all say Amen." Mississippi's awesome.
It was a beautiful moment, but lasted so short. Alas. Oh well. We waited for Simon to introduce all the riders on horses holding the flags, and most were pretty young handsome, with a few girls among the crowd. All had cowboy hats on. Then he told that there was going to be a winner in every activity, and then there would be an after party at the Royal Casino and things like that, with a rodeo the next two nights, Saturday and Sunday. Well, it was about to really begin. The first event was bare back riding, cowboys on horses, that are trying to buck them off. They try to stay on for at least 6 seconds, and whoever stays on the longest wins. If they're done or about to get knocked off, they jump on the back, stomach sideways on the horse, to one of the two guys on good horses that are on the sides of him. They don't usually get stepped on or fall off the horse. Not usually. So the first guy, beneath the maze of fences under Simon, came onto a horse, that was getting very anxious with all the commotion. He got on, and two guys in front of the gate pulled ropes, swinging it open with the guy running out, the horse flipping it's back end up like there's no tomorrow, with the man holding on for dear life, his feet in the slings, his hand with the gloves on, his hat already off in the dust. Those usually came off early in the ride, if you can call it early, it usually doesn't last too long. Well, he went all around, and then made way by jumping onto the horse of a tan man who had blue jeans and shirt on. The horse was then forced back into the side entrance, by horses ambushing it, urging it on. The man got off, usually stumbling a little as the judges gave him a score and Simon said, "How about one for the cowboy?" as everyone waved and cheered, and clapped.
I was so flabbergasted at how dangerous it was, men not trying to get off of horses. It was so crazy, as those people enjoyed people almost killing themselves. Dad and I talked about it, shuddering how mind jockling it must be to be on those. We watched in awe at a few more of these, which were basically just the same as the others, get on, almost bucked, get off, horse led away, and a "How about it for the Cowboy?" How about it for the horse? Huh? Well, man I would never want to be on THAT horse, or any of those horses. I won't tell about personally any of the next bareback riders, except one in particular. The horse was messing around in the cage, as they kicked it to get it riled up. That's pretty mean, those guys sitting on the rails, kicking it with their steel tipped shoes. Jerks. But I also would feel bad for the cowboy. An african american cowboy for on, as this brown red-eyed horse pawed with it's hoofs the gate of the fence, and amazingly got it's arms up. It then fell back, the man still holding on, and the back went into the ground, the man crazily still hanging on for dear life. Then they actually let it out, with Simon commenting this whole time, and it came out and did the whole bucking thing. Simon was ecstatic in praise for this brave hero, and I felt so bad for the courageous guy. He jumped onto the other horse, stomach on the back, and awaited his score. And it was...
7.8. Pretty good. Man were their claps for that guy. He did a great job, and later in the night he even went on a different horse again! That guy is either crazy, has no family or friends, and doesn't care what happens to him, or just really brave. Everybody had praises for that guy. Claps were ample. Tyler Humble was out, and I must admit he didn't do too well, actually he got disqualified. I wish he did though; we would have a little Roswell pride. Oh well. Simon announced the winner of all of them. Some were disqualified for different reasons, like not staying on for six seconds or some other rule. The next up happened to be the calf roping. This sounded good. The kids in front of us were looking now, off their phones and such, talking excitedly as all the numerous and many people all coming here for the rodeo sipped beer, ate tacos and popcorn, and played with the cheap toys they sold there, smelled the deep aroma of the brown dirt, polluted by horses and calf alike, awaiting when the first person would come out. I put the t-shirt over the book as we waited. Simon announced the person coming up, as he did all the others, telling where he was from, his name, and his achievements also. I kept hearing jokes from an unknown source, a country accent. Oh well. Must be up with Simon. Two young men in pink cowboy shirts stepped out, on nothing but their boots. I was confused, as I looked on the far end of Simon, to the other gate, where there were little calves, the men on the rails, and a cowboy in a separate pen, on his horse, with a lasso. Simon said, "GO!"
The gate opened as a small calf, a kid one, ran with his small stout legs, and the cowboy on his horse swung his lasso around (I was dreaming about how I had never seen this done only in the movies and was seeing it before my eyes now) and threw it over the calf's neck as he ganged up on him, and then pulled back, crashing the calf down to the earth. I was so appalled by this evil act. It had to hurt the poor animal, why did he do this. It got worse. The guy jumped off his horse with speed, and took some rope, make a slide down, and quickly roped the calves feet and then pulled his hands away. You're judged on how fast you do this. The calf was squirming, trying to get out. Then pink shirted guys untied the calf and took it over to the other pen opposite the other one, in the gates. I felt so bad for the little creature, as I felt sad for the riders on those energetic bucking horses. I mean it was terrible these people were letting this happen to the animals, and not one person was sympathetic toward their cause except for Rebecca and I, they were laughing, cheering, hooting, and clapping with zeal. Well, except for one person, a little girl who had never been to a rodeo before, who did feel bad. But everyone else did. Because they probably had grown up with it their entire life, so this would routine for them, like how in the south of the 1800's people thought slavery was morale. Just what people grow up with. I don't blame them. I blame the Professional Cowboy's Association.
I mean, it's barbaric. To just choke animals and pull them back, and then tie them up. All they can do is run. I felt really sad for them, and really mad for the people who make this legal. Watery tears went into my eyes, and Rebecca's too, she says, as I blurred out for a while and then returned to focus. A few more guys went, a few catching the calf and few not, or when they do the rope comes undone and they are disqualified from the competition, and they hang their head, and Simon tries to lighten them up, saying a lot of work goes into it and good job, and "how about it for the cowboy?" It was like the book I was gonna start reading the next day, an announcer trying to pretend to be nice and people who watch kids of 12 to 18 go and fight to the death, but they don't think about how barbaric it is, they have grown up with it. I would probably never read a book like that, but people recommended me to read the first one, and I did, and it ended with a cliffhanger, so I read the next one, and THAT one ended with a cliffhanger, so I was going to read the third one. That book series was The Hunger Games, and the one I was to read tomorrow was Mockinjay. I tell you more about that later. But anyway, Dad went to get some waterbottles while I tried to look at something else, and talked to Mom about how bad it was.
When Dad came back I was puffy-eyed and pouty, and wasn't too nice to Dad. He told me he'd never been to a rodeo too, and didn't know it would be like this, and there was really nothing I could do about it save protest it on the blog. Which I've already done. Maybe if we can start a country ride boycott of the rodeos of the country, and then the whole merchandise will go out of business maybe. Maybe. But not very probable is that idea. Next, after sips of cold water, was the steer wrestling. This should be interesting. I hoped that it wouldn't be as bad as the last thing. Then again, I am being kind of hypocritical, because I eat hamburgers. But they were made for us to eat them, not for us to torture them like that. Oh well. A twelve year old traveling the country can't make much of a difference in an age old practice of having those rodeos, I'm afraid. Oh well. Changing the subject. I went to the restroom too, and saw the first of the steer wrestlers on the top of the section, by a guide who tells people what row they're in. It was basically the same thing, the bull steer going out, usually black or brown, with a cowboy on a horse. The cowboy jumps off and takes the steer by the horns, twisting their neck and trying to touch the horn to the dirt. I felt that it would hurt so bad for those steer's necks.
I went and I waited in front of Rebecca's bathroom as she did mine, and then she got some nachos. Here's a joke: what is some cheese that ain't yours? Nacho cheese! (like not yo) But the nachos Rebecca had she wouldn't let me to have more than one, they were sacred to her, she would slap away my hand when I reached for her. A girl and her nachos. Inseparable. But I went to the place downstairs, and Rebecca went first. It was really loud, with all the people around. Between some times there were more commercials, rodeo style, a man with a microphone and a script telling a sales pitch, and some pictures on the jumbo screen, only occasionally though. The steers ran away a few times, and as everyone else jeered and yelled for the cowboy to get the steer, I cheered and urged on the steer to break out and go on his own accord. I mean, I know people get money and get rich from doing it and the future is the rodeo stuff, but still I mean... well, I promised with myself I would drop the subject. After the steer wrestling there was two people together trying to do the steer, and I switched places with Mom, and Rebecca got to sit by Mom and Dad and I sat my Mom and the other guy by me. Mom shushed me up when I talked, this one she was really interested in. They also did double calf roping. I mean I was interested, but I didn't like seeing the animals get hurt so I read a little of "To Kill a MockingBird" determined to finish it that day.
Simon was nice but a little annoying, and the people all seemed jabbering. I lightened up a little on the people, and just relaxed a little, and was a little more cheery. There was a lot of talk of a girl named Cassidy Jane, who was a horse tricker. A horse tricker? What's that? Simon did a big drum roll and introduction as a beautiful black haired young women on a brown horse and in a sparkly green and black Wonder Woman looking dress came around on our side. She stood right in the little holes for your feet, and sat lady style, then going under and being stomach against the stomach of the horse. It was sooo cool! I couldn't believe my eyes how she could do all this amazing tricks, man I could never do that. She went around the whole arena, doing really cool things. The only thing that compared to that was a guy fitting through a tennis racket, something I saw in Maine, and the same guy blowing out fire. But it was still really awesome. After she finished the ladies came out, in cowboy hats and tight jeans, on horses, and did some more polite things, like roping calfs and not roping their legs, just letting the lasso go without chocking the little calfs. They usually missed on the first, those calfs going so fast. On the second they usually get it, but many of them weren't good and got disqualified.
Then after this a guy came out, with overalls and a red nose, and a weird little hat. He was a clown with a mike attached to his ear. He was the guy I heard earlier. Named Redgie. He did a few stupid jokes, about his wife having kids and him calling them Eani, Meanie, Mini, and Fred, because his wife didn't like Fred, with Simon up in the seats having a little dialogue back with him, and there was some funny parts. Redgie also went around on the fence, his big shoes around. He was on our side, by us. He landed on his groin. But I don't think it really hurt. All this "funny" little sections happened at intervals during the girl's events. I figured that since it was getting really late, people were shifting in their chairs and looking at their watches, they had to keep it fresh, funny and interesting. At one point Redgie came out in a car, to our much surprise, well, I guess you can say it was a car, but it was more like a bumper car with it all old, painted and everything, and it made old noises of gas and exhaust. He said he got it in a dancing competition, and Simon wanted to see him dance. A fake girl with a big but and dress (it was all fake, the person was actually a male dressing up like a girl, with the wig, lipstick and all) and Redgie continued to insult her on many accounts. Then Simon said, after some funny incidents, that he wanted a dance off.
And they danced off, and I personally thought Redgie was the winner but Simon, and the cheers for the girl, so she was picked and they told Redgie he had to go through with his part of the bet, and had to take the girl to a restaurant and be really nice to her. Redgie got her in the "car" and drove off, bumbling so. We don't know what happened to that girl. Scary music!
They put up three large cylinder cans, in a triangle formation. After they did the calving all the ladies had gone from one of the gates from the side entrance, down one side of the arena and into the other gate, across from it. The cowgirls now came out, and tried to go, on their horse, around all of the cylinders, which was what they were supposed to do. The person with the least time doing it wins. Their horses slid around those corners like it was walking the street, and clomped to the next one. Sometimes though they made the cylinders go down and were disqualified. A lot of that. Sad. You had to go to the bottom two before the top one, and it wasn't easy. I sure couldn't do it. But they could. And when this event was over, all the animals inside that fence again, the cylinders gone, Simon said a few more things like that he hoped everyone came for the next two nights and the winners came out on horses. Cheers and hollering from the crowd. Then everyone filed out, as I got my book and my now dirty white t-shirt. I guess I wasn't too happy with having the shirt now, based on what the association does, but it was big and white and could be used on nights of drowsiness. Everyone went away, up the grey concrete steps, out the doors to this over hanging place. We went to the restroom, as Rebecca and I bought with five dollars these balls that stretch in and out with plastic, that a guy was selling. Then we went down those stairs, out of the lobby, out of the Coliseum, into the pale moonlight.
Into the parking lot, in the jeep, then back at home. I had an okay time at the rodeo. Some of the events were fun, while others were a little disgraceful. It was definitely a weird and new experience, and fun to watch at points. How those cowboys are so skilled in the art, and how they do it without many blunders, is a true reflection of what hard work can bring. It's cool. Although chocking the calves and tying their legs plus hurting the steers neck I didn't like, the majority of the rodeo I liked. A good ole honest Mississippi country rodeo. Like I said, it was a new thing to experience. And that, my reader, is what this trip is all about.
Goodbye for now.
It would be cool to be a dog. No responsibility, no job, lay around all day, just play, chase flies, lick, and snuggle, eat, and go to the restroom. No blogs to write,
Andrew.
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