Katie Pryor is my favorite starving artist in all of Chicago. She's always been into literature and a complete movie buff since the days of diapers. For those of you who don't know, I love her to death. Anyways, apart from her day job she's a producer and dabbeling with Storytelling. Her latest, and first performed story is a part-fiction little tale from our college days. I won't tell you what's true or not... just that Betsy was actually 5 feet long. I am absolutely flattered that I was part of her story and I want to share it with everyone. :) It cracked me up......
3 Seconds
Kateri burst into my room on a late Friday night in 2003, frantically waving a green flyer,
She read aloud as my eyes traced the words, “WANT TO RIDE A LIVE BULL? COME OUT AND TRY. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.”
Underneath this headline was a picture of cowboy getting his face smashed by a bull hoof but this horrifying picture didn’t deter me one bit. If she was going to do it, so was I. Besides, I’d seen bulls before..on TV.
Kateri and I have been best friends since we were old enough to understand the term. Our parents were close friends and we grew up together. And I’ve been jealous of her as long as I can remember. She was better than me--in everything. Sports, school, life. As kids it began with imaginary friends and Girl Scout badges and as teenagers, it was academics and prom dates.
While we all secretly or not-so-secretly spend parts of our adolescence coveting our neighbor’s goods, our lives were so intertwined, her goods were always right there, hanging over my head.
Physically it was comparing a Malibu Barbie with a brain and a sock monkey. And no one wants to take a sock monkey to the prom.
In high school, I learned that the quickest way to recognition was through activities and so my need for validation from peers drove me to insert myself in everything. At her high school, Kateri was invited to everything. And I was always aware of her achievements. Like when she was named captain of the soccer team and led them to State, or when she made Dean’s List all 4 years or the kicker, when my high school college counselor got me a date to the senior prom because we were the last two seniors left and Kateri went with a basketball star who had just committed to Butler University.
It was like I was in a twisted fun house with mirrors and every time I tried to catch a glimpse of my reflection, I only saw her. I longed for the day when I would be lounging in a litter full of swan feathers, carried by a horde of strapping young men. People were throwing flowers at me and shouting my name and every time a flower touched me, it turned to gold and I generously gave it back to the people who only chanted my name louder which caused more flowers to be thrown and more gold and more generosity from me and you get the idea.
And then, the summer after our senior year I got a call from Kateri.
“Guess what? I heard your going to Dallas! I’m going too!! It’s gonna be awesome.”
Awesome. Going to college together. I guess swan feathers would have to wait.
So, we packed up a trailer and headed South. We both made the
soccer team yet Kateri was the one who made the headlines. We both did well academically but she was always on the Dean’s List. We had the same group of friends but Kateri was the fun one. She could drink more, knew the hotter guys, dated hotter guys and had better stories. By junior year, we were living together. And it made life exciting.
Like one time, Kateri convinced our apartment that letting a 4 ft. python named Betsy live with us for a few months was a good idea. She constructed a large Colosseum-type cage in which to hold feedings. This proved to be a huge hit. She sold tickets and used the money to buy beer. Masses of people flocked to our apartment. Kateri and Betsy became staples of the undergrad party life. People still talk about it.
So back to that night, bull riding was this week’s Betsy feeding. The guy who was running this bull riding adventure was a senior politics major named Jason. With Garth Brooks blaring out of the speakers we drove in Jason’s pick up to the arena which was located just outside of Dallas.
As we glided into the parking lot, the arena loomed before us. It was shaped like that alien spaceship from Flight of the Navigator. A large steel clam held up by red beams. It was dark as we entered the clam and appeared empty until Jason directed us toward a tunnel that seemed to encompass the periphery of the clam. The tunnel led into a room that looked like a stockyards with enclosed pens . We were met by short, stocky guy with boots and spurs, chaps, and a short buzzcut covered by a too large black cowboy hat.
“Howdy, I’m Adam. Y’all see the ladies on your way in?”
“Um…no?”
“The bulls. Here. These will be your ladies.” Adam slid open the door and we were hit with a stench of manure. The bulls were immensely large. Standing next to one, my head hit right about where the legs meet the body.
My choices were Minnie Mouse or Loosenuts. I chose Minnie, hoping to gain what sports personnel term “the competitive edge.” An easy to ride bull with a wimpy name. Kateri could have Loosenuts. We were given padded vests and a pair of leather gloves as Adam let us into the arena.
It looked just like I had seen it on TV when channel surfing late at night. A tall, steel fence enclosing a large circular expanse of dirt. Red bleachers surrounded the circle and at the far end, a giant scoreboard and timer.
We headed over to watch them prepare the bulls for riding. They take a long cotton rope called a flank strap and tie it around the bulls flank area subsequently causing it to bind the bulls’ testicles to cause the violent bucking and twisting. And you can’t really blame them. Who would enjoy having their testicles bound and then ridden for sport?
Adam let us to the inner ring.
“Now this here is a bucking chute. It holds you and the bull before the gate flies open and you ride it home. You have to stay on for 8 seconds. That’s how you git points. Got it?”
He walked away before we could answer.
Kateri descended first into the chute. She gave me a confident yet slightly nervous smile and the bucking chute snapped open. Loosenuts took off in a straight run to the center of the arena, bucking. I had a clear view of Kateri’s ponytail bobbing up and down frantically. The more the bull bucked, the more Kateri seemed to find a rhythm. She and the bull seemed to be in sync. A horn rang. 8 Seconds. She had ridden her bull for 8 seconds. Like a professional. She dismounted the bull more gracefully than a Chinese gymnast and ran to me her eyes bright with excitement.
“Did you see that? So fun.”
Jealousy and anger and fear churned in my belly causing improper thoughts to run in my head. I wanted to kick her ass. I wanted to ride Minnie Mouse for a full minute, 60 long seconds. This was it. Swan feather bed. Flowers thrown. Flowers turning to gold. People chanting my name.
I lowered myself into the bucking chute right on top of Minnie Mouse. He didn’t move. Adam tied the leather glove to my hand and then to the bull, palm up.
“Think you can go 8 seconds like your friend there?”
“What do you think, cowboy? I can go 10.”
As I tightened my fist around the leather strap, straddling Minnie Mouses’ back, my legs buckled with fear. My hand was already sweating right through that leather glove. I could feel sweat dripping down my back and I suddenly feared that if any moisture touched Minnie Mouse he might freak out and buck me off before we even left the chute. I closed my eyes and tried to relax all my muscles. Minnie’s coarse bull hairs poking through my jeans and into my crotch made that impossible. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the clock. I could barely make out the numbers.
A gust of air whipped my face as the chute door flew open. I felt movement between my legs. This was it. Minnie Mouse was going to start bucking like mad and I was ride him all around the arena with my arm held high in victory. Any minute now ...any minute now…. and then…nothing.
Minnie Mouse was moving sure but trotting. The bull was trotting like a horse at carnival. He trotted to the center of the arena and STOOD THERE. No bucking. No movement whatsoever.
From somewhere in the stands I heard, “Kick him. Make him do something. Kick him hard. You gotta let him know you are there.”
“Oh I think he knows.” I yelled back to noone in particular. Sitting on Minnie in the middle of the arena, I felt marooned on an empty island when someone had promised a resort town.
“Aw hell, just hop off.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Hop off.”
Uttering a silent prayer, I swung my leg over Minnie and fell to the ground like a feral cat and ran like hell to the wall.
Adam’s ruddy face greeted me at the chute. “His bull flank wasn’t tied tight enough. That’s why there was no bucking. But, you know what? You want go again? ”
I had a vision of my life in ten years. Kateri and I getting together for lunch, each of us with 3 beautiful children. My children staring wide-eyed and in awe of Kateri’s great tales and fighting to sit next to her. My children listening to her children as they ate masterfully with chopsticks and talking about their dominance in the athletic world and vacationing at Disneyland. Later, my children slowly sinking into their seats feeling the first pangs of inferiority. Me trying to console them, unsuccessfully.
I had to ride that bull. For the children.
I slid back on top of Minnie. And then, my body was being thrust into the air at very odd intervals. My head began to bob up and down uncontrollably. Minnie Mouse was bucking. Bucking, twisting, snorting. I felt myself slipping sideways and my back cracking as I struggled to stay upright. I felt like my brain was pushing my eyes out of my head. I felt like one of those wind dolls you see outside of dealerships, you know, just flapping around in the breeze. The bucking began more staccoted and rapid and my hand started to slip free of the rope and the dirt was heading toward me at a rapid rate. I hit the ground hard and immediately I rolled onto my back and there they were. Minnie Mouse’s balls. They were pink, like the inside of a grapefruit but with large like coconuts and covered with a brown, rough, hairy layer. They lingered there for a moment, almost taunting me. While the photo from the flyer with the cowboy’s head getting smashed briefly played in my mind, I thought, “Am I really staring at bull balls right now to be keep up with her?”
Then I saw hoofs coming down in the distance and things seemed to go black. The next thing I knew my legs were running toward the fence and my arms were clutching it like a kid clinging to the edge of the pool after his parents leave him in the deep end.
Kateri climbed up to meet me.
“Are you okay? You looked like you blanked out there for a second.”
“I think I have a concussion. I saw bull balls. How did I do?”
She pointed toward the scoreboard and my eyes followed her finger.
3 Seconds. I had been on the bull for only 3 seconds. It takes about 3 seconds to buckle your seatbelt. And that includes time to actual locate the belt and the buckle that routinely gets lost in the cushions.
The ride home was uneventful. When we got back to campus, Kateri went out to party and I retreated to my room. I tried to focus on the plastic stars on the ceiling but all I could see were Minnie Mouse’s balls lingering inches from my head.
My phone rang.
“Hey it’s Kateri. Everyone wants to have a Betsy feeding so we’re all heading over. You feel okay? If so, get ready.”
I heard her breathing heavily, waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” I said. “I saw bull balls so I’ll get the beer.”
Kateri burst into my room on a late Friday night in 2003, frantically waving a green flyer,
She read aloud as my eyes traced the words, “WANT TO RIDE A LIVE BULL? COME OUT AND TRY. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.”
Underneath this headline was a picture of cowboy getting his face smashed by a bull hoof but this horrifying picture didn’t deter me one bit. If she was going to do it, so was I. Besides, I’d seen bulls before..on TV.
Kateri and I have been best friends since we were old enough to understand the term. Our parents were close friends and we grew up together. And I’ve been jealous of her as long as I can remember. She was better than me--in everything. Sports, school, life. As kids it began with imaginary friends and Girl Scout badges and as teenagers, it was academics and prom dates.
While we all secretly or not-so-secretly spend parts of our adolescence coveting our neighbor’s goods, our lives were so intertwined, her goods were always right there, hanging over my head.
Physically it was comparing a Malibu Barbie with a brain and a sock monkey. And no one wants to take a sock monkey to the prom.
In high school, I learned that the quickest way to recognition was through activities and so my need for validation from peers drove me to insert myself in everything. At her high school, Kateri was invited to everything. And I was always aware of her achievements. Like when she was named captain of the soccer team and led them to State, or when she made Dean’s List all 4 years or the kicker, when my high school college counselor got me a date to the senior prom because we were the last two seniors left and Kateri went with a basketball star who had just committed to Butler University.
It was like I was in a twisted fun house with mirrors and every time I tried to catch a glimpse of my reflection, I only saw her. I longed for the day when I would be lounging in a litter full of swan feathers, carried by a horde of strapping young men. People were throwing flowers at me and shouting my name and every time a flower touched me, it turned to gold and I generously gave it back to the people who only chanted my name louder which caused more flowers to be thrown and more gold and more generosity from me and you get the idea.
And then, the summer after our senior year I got a call from Kateri.
“Guess what? I heard your going to Dallas! I’m going too!! It’s gonna be awesome.”
Awesome. Going to college together. I guess swan feathers would have to wait.
So, we packed up a trailer and headed South. We both made the
soccer team yet Kateri was the one who made the headlines. We both did well academically but she was always on the Dean’s List. We had the same group of friends but Kateri was the fun one. She could drink more, knew the hotter guys, dated hotter guys and had better stories. By junior year, we were living together. And it made life exciting.
Like one time, Kateri convinced our apartment that letting a 4 ft. python named Betsy live with us for a few months was a good idea. She constructed a large Colosseum-type cage in which to hold feedings. This proved to be a huge hit. She sold tickets and used the money to buy beer. Masses of people flocked to our apartment. Kateri and Betsy became staples of the undergrad party life. People still talk about it.
So back to that night, bull riding was this week’s Betsy feeding. The guy who was running this bull riding adventure was a senior politics major named Jason. With Garth Brooks blaring out of the speakers we drove in Jason’s pick up to the arena which was located just outside of Dallas.
As we glided into the parking lot, the arena loomed before us. It was shaped like that alien spaceship from Flight of the Navigator. A large steel clam held up by red beams. It was dark as we entered the clam and appeared empty until Jason directed us toward a tunnel that seemed to encompass the periphery of the clam. The tunnel led into a room that looked like a stockyards with enclosed pens . We were met by short, stocky guy with boots and spurs, chaps, and a short buzzcut covered by a too large black cowboy hat.
“Howdy, I’m Adam. Y’all see the ladies on your way in?”
“Um…no?”
“The bulls. Here. These will be your ladies.” Adam slid open the door and we were hit with a stench of manure. The bulls were immensely large. Standing next to one, my head hit right about where the legs meet the body.
My choices were Minnie Mouse or Loosenuts. I chose Minnie, hoping to gain what sports personnel term “the competitive edge.” An easy to ride bull with a wimpy name. Kateri could have Loosenuts. We were given padded vests and a pair of leather gloves as Adam let us into the arena.
It looked just like I had seen it on TV when channel surfing late at night. A tall, steel fence enclosing a large circular expanse of dirt. Red bleachers surrounded the circle and at the far end, a giant scoreboard and timer.
We headed over to watch them prepare the bulls for riding. They take a long cotton rope called a flank strap and tie it around the bulls flank area subsequently causing it to bind the bulls’ testicles to cause the violent bucking and twisting. And you can’t really blame them. Who would enjoy having their testicles bound and then ridden for sport?
Adam let us to the inner ring.
“Now this here is a bucking chute. It holds you and the bull before the gate flies open and you ride it home. You have to stay on for 8 seconds. That’s how you git points. Got it?”
He walked away before we could answer.
Kateri descended first into the chute. She gave me a confident yet slightly nervous smile and the bucking chute snapped open. Loosenuts took off in a straight run to the center of the arena, bucking. I had a clear view of Kateri’s ponytail bobbing up and down frantically. The more the bull bucked, the more Kateri seemed to find a rhythm. She and the bull seemed to be in sync. A horn rang. 8 Seconds. She had ridden her bull for 8 seconds. Like a professional. She dismounted the bull more gracefully than a Chinese gymnast and ran to me her eyes bright with excitement.
“Did you see that? So fun.”
Jealousy and anger and fear churned in my belly causing improper thoughts to run in my head. I wanted to kick her ass. I wanted to ride Minnie Mouse for a full minute, 60 long seconds. This was it. Swan feather bed. Flowers thrown. Flowers turning to gold. People chanting my name.
I lowered myself into the bucking chute right on top of Minnie Mouse. He didn’t move. Adam tied the leather glove to my hand and then to the bull, palm up.
“Think you can go 8 seconds like your friend there?”
“What do you think, cowboy? I can go 10.”
As I tightened my fist around the leather strap, straddling Minnie Mouses’ back, my legs buckled with fear. My hand was already sweating right through that leather glove. I could feel sweat dripping down my back and I suddenly feared that if any moisture touched Minnie Mouse he might freak out and buck me off before we even left the chute. I closed my eyes and tried to relax all my muscles. Minnie’s coarse bull hairs poking through my jeans and into my crotch made that impossible. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the clock. I could barely make out the numbers.
A gust of air whipped my face as the chute door flew open. I felt movement between my legs. This was it. Minnie Mouse was going to start bucking like mad and I was ride him all around the arena with my arm held high in victory. Any minute now ...any minute now…. and then…nothing.
Minnie Mouse was moving sure but trotting. The bull was trotting like a horse at carnival. He trotted to the center of the arena and STOOD THERE. No bucking. No movement whatsoever.
From somewhere in the stands I heard, “Kick him. Make him do something. Kick him hard. You gotta let him know you are there.”
“Oh I think he knows.” I yelled back to noone in particular. Sitting on Minnie in the middle of the arena, I felt marooned on an empty island when someone had promised a resort town.
“Aw hell, just hop off.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Hop off.”
Uttering a silent prayer, I swung my leg over Minnie and fell to the ground like a feral cat and ran like hell to the wall.
Adam’s ruddy face greeted me at the chute. “His bull flank wasn’t tied tight enough. That’s why there was no bucking. But, you know what? You want go again? ”
I had a vision of my life in ten years. Kateri and I getting together for lunch, each of us with 3 beautiful children. My children staring wide-eyed and in awe of Kateri’s great tales and fighting to sit next to her. My children listening to her children as they ate masterfully with chopsticks and talking about their dominance in the athletic world and vacationing at Disneyland. Later, my children slowly sinking into their seats feeling the first pangs of inferiority. Me trying to console them, unsuccessfully.
I had to ride that bull. For the children.
I slid back on top of Minnie. And then, my body was being thrust into the air at very odd intervals. My head began to bob up and down uncontrollably. Minnie Mouse was bucking. Bucking, twisting, snorting. I felt myself slipping sideways and my back cracking as I struggled to stay upright. I felt like my brain was pushing my eyes out of my head. I felt like one of those wind dolls you see outside of dealerships, you know, just flapping around in the breeze. The bucking began more staccoted and rapid and my hand started to slip free of the rope and the dirt was heading toward me at a rapid rate. I hit the ground hard and immediately I rolled onto my back and there they were. Minnie Mouse’s balls. They were pink, like the inside of a grapefruit but with large like coconuts and covered with a brown, rough, hairy layer. They lingered there for a moment, almost taunting me. While the photo from the flyer with the cowboy’s head getting smashed briefly played in my mind, I thought, “Am I really staring at bull balls right now to be keep up with her?”
Then I saw hoofs coming down in the distance and things seemed to go black. The next thing I knew my legs were running toward the fence and my arms were clutching it like a kid clinging to the edge of the pool after his parents leave him in the deep end.
Kateri climbed up to meet me.
“Are you okay? You looked like you blanked out there for a second.”
“I think I have a concussion. I saw bull balls. How did I do?”
She pointed toward the scoreboard and my eyes followed her finger.
3 Seconds. I had been on the bull for only 3 seconds. It takes about 3 seconds to buckle your seatbelt. And that includes time to actual locate the belt and the buckle that routinely gets lost in the cushions.
The ride home was uneventful. When we got back to campus, Kateri went out to party and I retreated to my room. I tried to focus on the plastic stars on the ceiling but all I could see were Minnie Mouse’s balls lingering inches from my head.
My phone rang.
“Hey it’s Kateri. Everyone wants to have a Betsy feeding so we’re all heading over. You feel okay? If so, get ready.”
I heard her breathing heavily, waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” I said. “I saw bull balls so I’ll get the beer.”
I suppose a Birthday is always a good time to think about your life. I don't really have many reflections.... probably the biggest thing that I am learning is that NOTHING turns out how you think it will and even more rarely how you want it to turn out. Obviously, even my wild imagination did not picture myself to be like THIS at 28......I think GOD likes to surprise everyone and I am pretty difficult to sneak up on so he has made my plan extra, ummmmmm, CRAZY?!
When I was 10 years and you asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, my response was be a mom. Then I remember my dad egging people on, saying "ask her how many children she will have. " I would nonchalantly reply, "20." At the time I didn't understand why the heck everyone would chuckle, but now I do. It's pretty clear that I was never bound to have 20 children, I think.
Apparently God had other things planned for my life.... I never thought I would be an all-american rugby player, nscaa college athlete, own a pet snake named Betsy, ride a Bull, climb on top of the UD cafeteria, travel to over 20 different countries, rock climb across the world, become billingual or have so many people so dear to my heart. My friends and family have always been there for me in my happy times and of course my MANY times of need and although they still may not understand my love of Betsy, they accept it. 
I have been blessed with an amazing 28 years and know there are many more adventures to come..... So I decided an approriate way to kick off the next year was an adventure with two of my greatest friends, Bonnie and Katie. (and some random dude - i dont even remember his name, but he is in the pictures)
AWESOME BOOTS. I am definately going to find a way to get future use out of these......
This Sunday I celebrated my birthday jointly with yours truely, Henry Alexander. The most exceptionally cutest godson I have..... He turned two and I turned, well will be turning 28 next Sunday. It was a traditional little pizza party with a red velvet cake to die for. (Any doubts you can ask my brother Adam- I think he ate 1/3 of the cake himself. ) Aside from the presents, I always enjoy the cards. I want to share the card that my Uncle John got me- It made me chuckle heartily, it's really quite silly:
