Well, it's January again that means my second home becomes the National Western Stock Show here in Denver. It's just my second year as a volunteer but it's great to be back amongst the dust, the crowds and the funnel cakes. I am still learning the ropes but I've gotten to know my way around pretty good. Lots of great photo opps - that's for sure. Here are some of my favorites so far:
Okay, the kids here are pretty much the cutest. They all wear cowboy hats and go crazy with the cotton candy. These two young ladies had just watched the Wild West Show and simply could not get over this:
And I had to agree. Even though I saw it twice last year, it's still hard to accept that the dude is standing on TWO HORSES AT FULL GALLOP. The guy's name is Max and he does about nine other mind-blowing things, including riding these horses through a ring of fire. Crazy.
Confession: I did not take this photo - Joel Rafkin did. HOWEVER, I did actually witness cowboy monkeys on Border Collies herding giant Rams on Thursday night. I was busy helping Miss Kitty with the Gatorade for the pro cowboys behind the chutes when she looked up at the monitor and grabbed my arm, "Heather, c'mon! You HAVE to see this!!" We ran out and watched it. Weirdest fucking thing ever. I couldn't stop laughing.
I took about 8 gazillion rodeo shots but I like this one 'cause I got his hat flying off. Those guys either brave or crazy, I'm not sure which but they are also the most polite bunch of men I've ever met. During my shift on cowboy hospitality, I met a few of them. My favorite was a young guy who came up to me, "Ma'am? I've got shit on my sleeve - can you help?"
I walked by another who'd just tangled with a bull. He had his nose in his boots. "Whatcha looking for bugs? Blood?" I asked.
"Nope," he shook is head. "Nails." I don't know what that means but it sounds tough.
OBSERVATION: I always find it ironic how much the rodeo world adores the music of Queen. Sure, they play other stuff - country, rock, country rock - but really, everyone consistently goes apeshit whenever the ghost of Freddie Mercury - a British-Indian homosexual - unleashes his four octave talent on the conservative cowboy crowd. Without realizing it, they are fiercely loyal to him, more than any other artist. I'm probably the only one who notices but it always gives me a little chuckle.
So there ya have it - you've been warned. More to come!