They tried to talk me out of riding the bull. First, when we were driving toward the cowboy bar. Then, again, when the bull’s first victim was flung ungracefully toward a pole.
It’s a good thing I didn’t see the really drunk girl do it till later in the night, as she immediately flipped forward and smashed her face into its side. And I happen to like my face, so that may have been a deal breaker.
Luckily for all of us, I didn’t see that until later in the evening. And the attempts to talk me out of it were unsuccessful. Which means I’m officially a bull ridin’ cowgirl. Yee haw, people.
Even better, though, after I rode the bull, we also convinced a very tipsy Relatively Dashing Roommate to also ride the bull.
And then this happened:
And I was going to write more, but after that happens, there are really no words left. Am I right?
* * *
Care to ride the bull yourself? You can find it (as well as some country dancing) at The Stampede in Denver’s eastern suburbs. Bull rides cost $5 and many nights girls drink free.
Full disclosure: The Stampede let me hang out and ride the mechanical bull for free. But I would have done it anyway. And very soon after my ride, I pitched in a couple bucks to make Relatively Dashing Roommate’s ride possible. Because everyone should ride the bull. At least once.
Interested in Colorado? This guide is for you.