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climbing down was the obstacle


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Posted by Zonie on February 27, 2023 at 03:39:17

As much as I had missed the sport, the Apache Junction rodeo has had a problem of selling out if the weather is too nice. Last year it was sunny and the temperature about 75°. Someone gave me a free ticket, but I got what I paid for it. They had overbooked and could find no seating apart from the concession area, so my experience was the same as that of a rodeo judge--audio only. In charity I assumed that the COVID-plague got them out of the habit of calculating seating without social distancing.

This year I stayed away Saturday, knowing the weather was too good. The same cold front that brought the heavy snow to southern California hit us overnight but with its strength greatly diminished by crossing the Coast Ranges Phoenix had only a modest amount of rain, and I wasn't optimistic about mud, but the afternoon was mostly cloudy with a stiff wind and a temperature in the 50's, so I figured that would keep some of the tourists away and I might get a seat.

On my way to the rodeo, a parody of an old song I heard as a child came to my mind as a booster song for the community:

Apache Junction, what's your function?
Population overflow of the East Valley
Apache Junction, how's that function?
The trailer parks are full but the snowbirds keep coming.

I was optimistic by seeing a few rain drops on my windshield and some puddles by Tomahawk Road. Arriving at the site, I was more optimistic that there still seemed to be plenty of parking, though not on a paved lot. The parking lady flagged me to park right in a puddle of mud. A Honda Accord isn't designed for off-roading, but I figured I could cut some brush or shovel some gravel if I had trouble getting out later. I had no trouble when it was time to go home.

I stepped out of the car and into the mud puddle in my cowboy boots and joyously splashed through the puddle and squished and splashed through the rest of the parking lot mud to the entry area. The venue outside the arena itself had many booths and was also unpaved, so I got to stomp through lots of mud that had been churned up by lots of cowboy boots.

I paid my fee and found that although the grandstand was fairly crowded, some seating was available. The action was satisfactory. Several saddle bronc riders took tumbles into the mud. One dismounted with a perfect slide on his backside, but when he got up, the bull fighter pushed him down in the mud the other direction. The announcer said, "I notice you didn't try that with the steer wrestlers."

The bull fighter was a Navajo and indulged in some stereotyped humor, telling the crowd about the time he inadvertently dated his half-sister. I suppose small semi-isolated populations have that hazard. I've heard they have a dating app in Iceland designed to prevent accidental incest.

Then the announcer unexpectedly turned attention to me. I had come only as a spectator. I wasn't supposed to be part of the entertainment, but he called the attention of the audience to the fact that someone was wearing overalls, and he asked me to stand. I stood briefly and sat down again. I was astonished that wearing overalls at a rodeo was so unusual as to attract the attention of the announcer.

There was an entre-acte in which a stunt rider who came to us all the way from Calgary was showing us her horsemanship. She didn't fall down to get muddy, but she made a maneuver to dangle from the horse at a full gallop with her hands reaching down into the arena mud, so she willingly got her hands muddy but not the rest of the outfit.

Then there was some bull riding. The bulls won, and there were no qualified rides, but a couple of them had enjoyable mud splashes when bucked off. The announcer then said that after the barrel racing and before the second round of bull riding he would ask for volunteers to jump in the arena mud and be rewarded with a free beer, but the offer was limited to five people.

When the time came, I stood, and the announcer said, "Overalls, you want to do it?" I asked how I could get down. The arena was recessed about eight feet below the grandstands. I was told I would have to climb down. I was dubious of the safety of doing this, but I straddled the rail in the eunuch position, and my mountaineering experience took over from there, and the descent was much easier than I thought it would be.

After that I found that the arena mud was much deeper and soft than it looked from the grandstands and also had the wholesome aroma of livestock. I stomped through it with enthusiasm.

They finally found their five volunteers, three men and two women. I patiently waited my turn and was called up fourth. I flipped over on my backside into the big mud puddle, rolled on my belly and stood up and stomped through the puddle, splashing as high as I could.

The arena staff then wanted to escort us to get our free beer. I said, "I don't want a beer, just a safe way back to the grandstands." He showed me a gate that had been open the whole time at the east end of the arena. I don't know why nobody told me about that at the start. I quickly made it back to my seat to watch the second round of the bull riding.

I figured nobody would mind a muddy person sitting on metal bleachers. They weren't upholstered. The second round of the bull riding was also a resounding victory for the bulls. As the rodeo ended, a photo journalist was chatting me up. He was from New York City and wanted to tell me his life story. As we talked, other spectators seemed to want to fist-bump me, but not shake hands. A couple said I did the best mud flop, getting much muddier than the other four did. The journalist said he was definitely a city boy and that this was new to him. I assured him I was very much a city boy, that I lived in Phoenix and had an industrial job as a metallurgical furnace operator.

At length it was I who brought attention to his mission, and I said, "If you want to photograph a silly person who got muddy, I'll be happy to pose." He took a couple photographs but said the lighting was poor. By this time most of the clouds remaining from the storm had moved east, and the sun was shining, so I offered to go out into the sunshine to be photographed. He thought that was a good idea and took a few more photographs. He said he was amazed I wasn't cold. I said, "My physicians like to warn me of the dangers of morbid obesity, but it has a few advantages. It really is much easier for me than for most to keep warm in the winter."

I splashed through the contestant parking area behind the arena to go to the concession stand to buy a Gatorade, but it had already closed. I splashed back through the mud to the booths in the main area, but it was a challenge to find beverages that contained neither alcohol nor caffeine. The beer booth attendant asked if I had fallen. I said, "No, I participated in the belly flop competition in the arena." At length I found a vendor who sold lemonade, and I had some of that to quench my thirst. I walked around in the mud to see the various other booths, but it was mostly kids' stuff, various types of rides and carnival contests. Eventually I sloshed my way back towards the parking lot, and a deputy sheriff called out, "You sure must have wanted that free beer!"

I said, "Actually I'm temperance. I bought a lemonade."

Once I got home it was too dark to do laundry pre-rinse with the garden hose, so that will have to wait for tomorrow morning. I took the shortest path possible through the house and undressed in my room. As I left my car I had felt the peculiar sensation of the dried mud INSIDE my overalls falling down into my boots. Apart from that my socks and the inside of my boots were surprisingly clean and dry. My overalls were plastered with mostly dried mud. My hoodie was partly plastered. A surprising amount of mud had splashed onto my camouflage ball cap and even into my hair itself. The work shirt under my hoodie had never been directly exposed to the mud. Of course I expected it to be damp, but to my surprise it was partly muddy as well. The mud penetrated through the hoodie. My undershorts were a bit damp but mostly clean.




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