Tales of the Rodeo

I went to the rodeo last night. Of course, you know me. You know that a trip to the rodeo for me is bound to include SOME sort of amusing sidebar. This outing was no exception.

I went with a guy I know, who invited me to join some of his friends in one of the fancy schmancy box seats. We had a private room and seats, a full spread of food, drinks and dessert and a personal server waiting on all our needs and requests. Then what I like to call the Cart of Joy came rolling into the room. They had a mobile ice cream sundae station that they brought around to the boxes and let you select your ice cream flavors and toppings, all served up in an adorable plastic coyboy hat bowl.

But really one of the best parts of the rodeo was the tram ride from the parking lot to the stadium. My friend and I hopped on the very front row of the tram, so we were seated directly behind the driver. I glanced up and took a long look at the driver's shirt, then leaned over to my friend and said "um, does the back of his shirt say 'boobs'?"

"Wow. Yes, it does," my friend replied.

A few moments later, the driver leaned forward and we could see the rest of his shirt which said "Boobs Rock."

To which my friend responded "well, they do."