Rowdy Ol' Time

Joey said, “Let’s go out to eat.” After a whole day of cleaning, I was ready to hang out and look for trouble. We decided on Texas Roadhouse. Yeah, I was feeling a little rowdy. After our meal, Joey said, “where to now?” Hmmmm….how about…that Cactus Juice Saloon north of town? Perfect. Joey had been there before and rode the mechanical bull. I remember him complaining for weeks after about how sore he felt. I urged him not to take a second beating from the thing. We pulled into the parking lot and followed the cowboy hats inside. The bouncer, whose shirt read “Deputy”, asked for our IDs. After showing mine, I went inside to go to the bathroom. I took a quick look around and smiled. It was like stepping into a mini Gilly’s from the movie Urban Cowboy. The band in the corner, line dancing, pool, a punching bag…this was going to be a great time.

When I came out of the bathroom, Joey was standing near the door with a look of disbelief.
J: It was $20 bucks to get in here.
H: No way. You’re kidding.
J: I’m not kidding, Hol. I gave the guy a $20 and he didn’t give me anything back. I explained I had just given him $20 and needed my change. He said, “It’s $10 bucks a piece.” He mentioned bull riding…but there’s always bull riding.
H: No flippin way! It looks to me like the bull isn’t even on! That’s crazy! Why didn’t you come get me?
J: You were already in the Cowgirls room. Look, it’s okay. I’m not too upset. This is just turning into an expensive night.
H: Well, let me buy you a beer.
We moseyed over to the bar and ordered a Miller Lite and a Jack & Coke. I handed the bartender my debit card.
Bartender: There’s a $10 minimum.
H: This place is really starting to piss me off.
B: You still want the drinks.
H: (Through gritted teeth) Yes.
I then began to complain aloud how this fancy-dancy bar wasn’t even that great. There weren’t many people, a few couples were line dancing, and the mechanical bull stood silent in the corner. I told Joey that we better figure out how to have fun after all the money we were spending. I took a swig of my drink and noticed people coming out of a room in the back. I thought this must be the Cowboy Discothèque and suggested we check it out. Joey agreed so off we went.

As we strolled into the next room, I stopped short in shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We were face to face with a real, live, full blown rodeo, complete with bulls, dirt, gates, and cowboys. Joey and I looked at each other. What had just happened? Were we in OZ? No, we were in a bar…in Lansing…with bulls…and cowboys….

Suddenly, $10 a piece didn’t seem like enough.

Joey and I found a spot on the bleachers and watched the workers finish setting everything up. Then, everyone rose for the National Anthem…in a bar…in Lansing. Afterwards, the lights were turned off and a disco ball lit up at the center of the ceiling. Just like at a Pistons game, the cowboys were introduced one by one, spotlight and all.

“And here he is, riding in from Nashville, TN….Cowboy Curtis!!!!” The crowd goes wild. I was still in some state of shock and couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Next, they read the Cowboys Prayer:

Our heavenly father, we pause ever mindful of the many blessings you have bestowed upon us. We ask that you be with us at this rodeo, And we pray that you will guide us in the arena of life. We don't ask for special favors, we don't ask to draw around a chute fighting horse, or to never break a barrier. Nor do we ask for all Daylight runs, or not to draw a steer that won't lay. Help us O Lord, to live our lives in such a manner, that when we make that last inevitable ride to the country up there, where the grass grows lush and green and stirrup high, and the water runs clear, cool and deep, that you, as our last judge, will tell us that our entry fees are paid.

I got a little choked up at this point. Well, that’s not true but I got a chill at the last part about having your entry fees already paid. Could this rodeo stuff be deeper than I thought?

The first rider came out on a bull named Agent Orange. Three seconds later, the dude’s face was in the dirt and Agent Orange was prancing around the pen. Bull-1 point, Riders-0. Most of the rides were like that but a few guys made it past the 8 seconds. One of the bulls threw a rider pretty far and then drove his head into the guy’s butt. Ouch. The bulls and blood, dust and mud, the roar of a Sunday crowd, the white in his knuckles, gold in the buckle, he'll win the next go 'round, it's boots and chaps, it's cowboy hats, it's spurs and latigo, it's the ropes and the reins, the joy and the pain, and they call the thing rodeo. Yeah, thanks to Garth Brooks for actually writing those lyrics.

The whole thing was a pretty good time. We only stayed about an hour and a half but I was happy with my first Rodeo experience. We left shortly after the cops did. No, I never found out why they were there. As we drove away, I noticed the marquee for the first time.

“Oh, it says ‘Live Bull Riding Tonight.’ They meant ALIVE bulls. Ohhhhh….”