Row - Day - Yo (Rodeo)

Oddly enough its reminiscent. Who knew the smell of horse menure would bring a sense of nostagia? But it does. As I stroll into the Rodeo, the first of the season, I'm bombarded with memories of home. I can see quite vividly the fair grounds of the annual stampede. I can smell the mouthwatering flavour of vendor hotdogs and mini donuts. I'm half expecting to run into someone I know I'm so drawn in memories.

I continue through the crowd of tight wrangler wearing cowboys looking for beer, for seeing these gorgeous men chug back their plastic cup of ale drives me thirsty. And as I zig and zag through the sea of manly men in search for ale, I'm continuously distracted by bulges and curves. How odd that I remember not cruising these men back home.


I approach the bar, order my drink and pay the tired woman behind the counter. I go and find my seat.

Since alone, I find a portion of the seating area with the least spectators. And there, I watch the rodeo. I see strapping young men mount their horses and partake in the western festivities; roping cattle, riding broncs, riding bareback, cattle steering, all the while dropping their cowboy hats along the way or getting thrown off the stallion. All very entertaining, all very welcoming.

I still find it odd that it all brings back a sense of nostalgia, especially considering that fact the I never actually watched a Rodeo back home. And yet, here I am, enjoying the company of many a stranger.