Sarah E. Moffett

Welcome to the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo. John Deer Tractors, $300,000 steers, cowboy hats, angry bulls, signs such as the one above, and the worlds largest belt buckles, e-v-e-r, were just a few of the sights I took in this past weekend.

Yes, you read right, I spent last weekend hanging out with the cows.

And I’m here to report several of them are worth more than I am. How disturbing.

With roots extending back to the early 1930’s and a history of performers ranging from Gene Autry and Elvis Presley to George Strait and Miley Cyrus, the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, held for twenty days each March for the past 76 years, claims to be the world’s largest livestock exhibition and rodeo event. With nearly 1.2 million in attendance this year, it may live up to the hype. (Albeit, I’m guessing 1.1 million alone showed up for Miley Cyrus’s performance.  See picture to left.)

So I spent Friday’s spring afternoon wandering around Reliant Park to take in the carnival rides, sweet corn, Novice Youth Western Horsemanship rounds, BBQ, a lot of painfully pregnant cows, more food, baby piglets and lambs, still eating, and the entire population of exhausted, Texan 4H members whom had been earning scholarship money and having fun for the past eighteen days. More than one was passed out on a haystack with a hat pulled over his or her eyes. I couldn’t blame them. I got tired just from all that eating.

As much fun as the livestock show was (cough, cough), sitting in second row directly behind the chutes was the undoubtedable highlight of my Texan Rodeo indoctrination. As my tour guide put it, “it’s every East Texan’s girl’s dream to sit behind a row of cowboys.” And did we ever. I have never seen that many pairs of Wranglers leaning on a railing this side of Walmart’s doors .  They look much better from the second row seats.

Aside from the scenery, there were the amazing displays of athletic prowess and complete stupidity as exhibited in bare back bronc riding, saddle riding, and bull riding. 8.0 seconds never looked so long. Particularly after one cowboy went over a set of ornery bull’s horns and got up to find the back left leg of his jeans split wide open from the close encounter. Or as the announcer put it, “these are the kind of bulls every Dad dreams his daughter’s boyfriend will ride.” I was inclined to agree with the announcer when Rubber Ducky, a horribly misnamed bull, managed to nearly jump out of his cage and take a few cowboys with him.  After no one died, the day of livestock viewing, rodeo appreciating, and food gorging rounded out with a wagon race that would’ve made John Wayne proud, a calf scramble that had 28 students chasing down 14 calves in a Looney Tunes worthy effort, and a Pat Green concert to 56,000 cheering fans. The next day was the close of the rodeo, and you could feel it in the tired, frantic air.  Everything was caked in dust but still rawly energetic.  I loved it.

As for me, a few hours later, I slumped into the car seat exhausted, deaf and smelly. And happy. I had mud on my boots. It felt good.

And it has made returning on Monday morning to corporately clean America feel…fake.  Maybe I’ll catch up with them in Cheyenne.

Resources

Houston Rodeo

Houston Rodeo Pictures

Me

Houston Chronicle

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