An alternative title for this posting could have been 'Mechanical Bulls and the Drunk People Who Love Them'. Or: 'Ways in Which to Publically Rock Your Crotch'. Whatever heading you prefer, we're talking about Mechanical Bulls. Specifically, why we feel compelled to ride one the moment we’re in a 50 foot radius of one. Quite puzzling.
If you’re not familiar with the Mechanical Bull in a Bar experience, I’m not sure you’re going to relate to this post. Or to anything I have to say, ever. But no matter. The concept is this: A mechanized bull is placed in the center of an enclosure similar to a boxing ring. The ring is filled with mats which, in concept, should make it hurt less when you fall. The Bull is operated by a trained technician of some sort (usually their training is in the areas of ‘Bartending’ or ‘The Security Arts’). You get on the Bull, the technician presses some buttons and cranks a lever, and the Bull spins and bucks accordingly. Eventually, the technician gets sick of your moves, (which you think are exemplary of your superior coordination, because you are drunk) and speeds up the Bull. You will hang on and look stupid, and then you will be thrown to the mats. Which doesn’t hurt at all (because you are drunk) but for some inexplicable reason, you will not be able to walk or move your arms the next day.
My question is this: why the hell are we compelled to ride a fake bull until our crotches throb and our fingers bleed? Where does this desire come from? Is it a completely American thing? We have to tame and master every wild and out-of-place element in our environment, even if it’s a man-made mechanized object? Sure, it’s a ridiculous amount of fun. But you’re in a bar. A crowd will gather. You will not look cool. And someone is going to take pictures. Go ahead, Google Image ‘Mechanical Bull’. 900,000 drunken action shots.
Which brings me to my second point: why do we want to watch this? Before I had experience with the Bulls – when I only knew about it through movies and television – I thought it had to be a sexual component. I assumed people crowded around to gawk at the gyrating female riders. But that really can’t be it. In person, there is no sexy jiggling. There’s just your inebriated friend, or the kid celebrating his 21st birthday who can barely hold himself upright. So it can’t be that. Then…what? Our universal impulse to judge people? Our morbid universal delight in witnessing a train wreck in action?
I can’t judge anyone on this – the riders, or the gawkers. But just think about it, people. Mechanical Bullriding, like drunk go-karting, can be a very poor decision. And in both cases, you will have whiplash the next day.
Oh, and my final point – who washes those mats down at the end of the night? Anyone? The technician? If you do ride, at least bring disinfectant.
If you’re not familiar with the Mechanical Bull in a Bar experience, I’m not sure you’re going to relate to this post. Or to anything I have to say, ever. But no matter. The concept is this: A mechanized bull is placed in the center of an enclosure similar to a boxing ring. The ring is filled with mats which, in concept, should make it hurt less when you fall. The Bull is operated by a trained technician of some sort (usually their training is in the areas of ‘Bartending’ or ‘The Security Arts’). You get on the Bull, the technician presses some buttons and cranks a lever, and the Bull spins and bucks accordingly. Eventually, the technician gets sick of your moves, (which you think are exemplary of your superior coordination, because you are drunk) and speeds up the Bull. You will hang on and look stupid, and then you will be thrown to the mats. Which doesn’t hurt at all (because you are drunk) but for some inexplicable reason, you will not be able to walk or move your arms the next day.
My question is this: why the hell are we compelled to ride a fake bull until our crotches throb and our fingers bleed? Where does this desire come from? Is it a completely American thing? We have to tame and master every wild and out-of-place element in our environment, even if it’s a man-made mechanized object? Sure, it’s a ridiculous amount of fun. But you’re in a bar. A crowd will gather. You will not look cool. And someone is going to take pictures. Go ahead, Google Image ‘Mechanical Bull’. 900,000 drunken action shots.
Which brings me to my second point: why do we want to watch this? Before I had experience with the Bulls – when I only knew about it through movies and television – I thought it had to be a sexual component. I assumed people crowded around to gawk at the gyrating female riders. But that really can’t be it. In person, there is no sexy jiggling. There’s just your inebriated friend, or the kid celebrating his 21st birthday who can barely hold himself upright. So it can’t be that. Then…what? Our universal impulse to judge people? Our morbid universal delight in witnessing a train wreck in action?
I can’t judge anyone on this – the riders, or the gawkers. But just think about it, people. Mechanical Bullriding, like drunk go-karting, can be a very poor decision. And in both cases, you will have whiplash the next day.
Oh, and my final point – who washes those mats down at the end of the night? Anyone? The technician? If you do ride, at least bring disinfectant.
1 comment:
This is hilarious. I had my first experience with a bull last night myself. Went to a bar for a friend's birthday and everyone ended up riding the bull. Somehow I got talked into it. I got whipped off in like 2 seconds, landed on my neck and have been in pain all day. Whee.
I will never again look kindly on a bull, no matter how adorable his big red bow is. (this one was decorated for xmas).
I think the bull operator hated me.
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