ClubHooligan.com - Burning it up at both ends

Web posted July 5, 2007

Reflections on a mechanical bull

By Courtney Nelson

Courtney Nelson

Saturday night I walked into Henry's bar in the Mendenhall Valley and was inexplicably drawn to the bull at the back of the room. Not the chest-bumping loud-mouth drunk guys singing "Family Tradition" for the hundredth time; the mechanical bull. It had glowing angry red eyes and was tossing people ass-over-ear onto a huge yellow "bouncy." I'd never had the courage to ride one before, but I knew it was my night.

I watched a few riders first. Some took several awkward attempts to mount the bull. Others flew up so quickly and effortlessly that they quickly and effortlessly shot right over the top. Bet they couldn't do that sober. Some approached the bull like a lover. Once on, successful riders held the strap palm facing up while their other hand waved fluidly above their heads. They made subtle adjustments, and gripped their legs tighter as the bull sped up. I figured I'd done enough research to avoid serious injury so I signed the release of liability waiver. Then all I needed was courage and the right music. I requested a fast song to pump me up.

I heard my song begin to play just as a group of women riders staggered toward my bull. They wanted to ride but were too drunk to get organized. Not wanting to lose my moment, I darted crazily across the bouncy toward the bull. I visualized floating effortlessly up onto his back, but instead I only lifted half an inch, bounced with a thud off his side, and landed flat on my back. A bouncy is not a good launch pad.

The chain-smoking madman in charge of the bull's joystick told me to bounce a few times first. It wasn't pretty, but I got on. I grabbed the reins, lifted my right hand and nodded to the madman to bring it on.

It was meditative. My only thought was to stay on that bull. After a few moves it started to speed up but I was ready. My hand was floating, my torso was rotating. The bull and I were one. Then it jerked and in an instant my body was sliding off. The hide was chafing my inner thighs. Note: Don't ride in a skort. I was losing control but the bull charged on. A violent jerk the other way and I was flying through the air past the farmer family cartoon printed on the yellow bouncy. All my research and good form and he had tossed me off like a rag doll. And I felt truly alive. I may have been lying on the yellow bouncy, but I had faced my fear and I had survived. I rode five more times. I could feel muscles I didn't even know I had, so I had a beer and indulged in some maudlin reflection.

I realized then that riding a bull is a lot like marriage. You sign some paperwork and hop on the bull of love. Everything feels smooth at first, you get a pleasant tingly feeling. Then the mad man with the joystick starts to put you to the test. It begins to feel like you're strapped to a wild animal. Your mate has different values, different priorities, idiosyncrasies. It jerks you right, then left. Things speed up. No amount of research and form can prepare you for the reality of marriage. You even find yourself thrown on the yellow bouncy thing of marriage. Love is humbling.

But like that bull, you gotta get on and ride again. Stay strong, stay fluid. And in the end, you will feel truly alive.

• Courtney Nelson can be reached at nelsonfamily@acsalaska.net.