Friday, March 16, 2007
Are we having fun yet?
Usually when a person cannot find happiness, someone is quick to point out that maybe he or she has been looking in the wrong place, such as in Siberia. When a person is looking for a fun thing to do on a weekend, that person has hundreds if not thousand of choices. However, if that somebody plans a year or more in advance for 10 or eleven days of fun activity, you just assume that he has done his homework well, especially if there is a requirement of a significant entry fee. Which brings us to the bizarre case of one entry in the Iditarod 35. The Iditarod usually can accommodate twenty or so rookies. This year was no different. They are there for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For most of these rookies once is more than enough. However, our bizarre case involves one gent who quit after day two because it was no longer fun.
Surely, he had done his homework. He came with a sled and enough dogs to pull it. He had plenty of dog food and lots of warm clothing. And surely he was aware of how cold it gets out on the trail—numb chilling 40 to 60 below counting wind chill factor and maybe that cold not counting it. Surely he had read about numerous cases of frostbite and the occasional loss of a finger. And surely he had read about the blind lady who finished the race last year.
What he had probably not thought about were the numerous dogfights that occur at the check-in stations, along with the stench of dog poop. You can just smell the fun. Nor had he reckoned with the reality of being thrown from his sled and drug for a considerable distance, not once but up to 10 to 20 times a day. Hey, these guys sleep while the dogs run and pull. Or maybe he did not read that last year one stump tore up numerous sleds until one musher in anger took out his axe and removed the dastardly object from the path—now that was fun.
When I still lived in Arkansas I became acquainted with an old farmer who lived about half a mile down the road. Every spring he plowed his field with a cantankerous mule. Every “gee and haw” was accompanied by a long string of expletives deleted. For the farmer this was no ordeal but just one of the first pleasures of spring. He was having fun. The mule had become so accustomed to the expletives that he assumed they went with the “gees and haws.”
Now another fun experience is the annual bull running that occurs in Spain. There are the usual locals trying to prove their manliness for some lovely senorita and a handful of Americans who just want to have “a little fun.” Usually the latter are fortified with a shot or two or three or four or whatever it takes for them to forget where they are and what they have just committed to do. Now, if you have every seen a thoroughly soused individual trying to walk a straight line, you can only imagine how he would run under the same conditions. When the running begins, he is probably more than a little under the weather. But the shreeks of terror and the thunder of the hooves quickly revive him. And then the fun really begins. He might be cursing the moment he got into this whole affair, but he is running and he certainly does not give any thought to quitting until the bulls are safely past or he beats them to the arena.
In the XXXV Iditarod one contestant broke his leg but continued on to the finish. He was, after all, having fun. But the real fun belongs to the last participant to cross the finish line. The person receives the famous red lantern award. This year 14 of the last 20 contestants dragging up the rear are rookies—hoping to win that prestigious award. Hopefully, none of them have confused red light as in red light district with the red lantern trophy. Often time there is as much competition or perhaps non-competition for the red lantern as there is for the winner at none. Last year two individuals went eyeball to eyeball to see who would win the coveted prize for finishing last. The judges for not making a timely attempt to finish the race could have eliminated both. The judges and other officials only have so much fun to dole around, until they decide enough is enough. And ultimately there is only so much fun one can have when it is 40 below.
Usually when a person cannot find happiness, someone is quick to point out that maybe he or she has been looking in the wrong place, such as in Siberia. When a person is looking for a fun thing to do on a weekend, that person has hundreds if not thousand of choices. However, if that somebody plans a year or more in advance for 10 or eleven days of fun activity, you just assume that he has done his homework well, especially if there is a requirement of a significant entry fee. Which brings us to the bizarre case of one entry in the Iditarod 35. The Iditarod usually can accommodate twenty or so rookies. This year was no different. They are there for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For most of these rookies once is more than enough. However, our bizarre case involves one gent who quit after day two because it was no longer fun.
Surely, he had done his homework. He came with a sled and enough dogs to pull it. He had plenty of dog food and lots of warm clothing. And surely he was aware of how cold it gets out on the trail—numb chilling 40 to 60 below counting wind chill factor and maybe that cold not counting it. Surely he had read about numerous cases of frostbite and the occasional loss of a finger. And surely he had read about the blind lady who finished the race last year.
What he had probably not thought about were the numerous dogfights that occur at the check-in stations, along with the stench of dog poop. You can just smell the fun. Nor had he reckoned with the reality of being thrown from his sled and drug for a considerable distance, not once but up to 10 to 20 times a day. Hey, these guys sleep while the dogs run and pull. Or maybe he did not read that last year one stump tore up numerous sleds until one musher in anger took out his axe and removed the dastardly object from the path—now that was fun.
When I still lived in Arkansas I became acquainted with an old farmer who lived about half a mile down the road. Every spring he plowed his field with a cantankerous mule. Every “gee and haw” was accompanied by a long string of expletives deleted. For the farmer this was no ordeal but just one of the first pleasures of spring. He was having fun. The mule had become so accustomed to the expletives that he assumed they went with the “gees and haws.”
Now another fun experience is the annual bull running that occurs in Spain. There are the usual locals trying to prove their manliness for some lovely senorita and a handful of Americans who just want to have “a little fun.” Usually the latter are fortified with a shot or two or three or four or whatever it takes for them to forget where they are and what they have just committed to do. Now, if you have every seen a thoroughly soused individual trying to walk a straight line, you can only imagine how he would run under the same conditions. When the running begins, he is probably more than a little under the weather. But the shreeks of terror and the thunder of the hooves quickly revive him. And then the fun really begins. He might be cursing the moment he got into this whole affair, but he is running and he certainly does not give any thought to quitting until the bulls are safely past or he beats them to the arena.
In the XXXV Iditarod one contestant broke his leg but continued on to the finish. He was, after all, having fun. But the real fun belongs to the last participant to cross the finish line. The person receives the famous red lantern award. This year 14 of the last 20 contestants dragging up the rear are rookies—hoping to win that prestigious award. Hopefully, none of them have confused red light as in red light district with the red lantern trophy. Often time there is as much competition or perhaps non-competition for the red lantern as there is for the winner at none. Last year two individuals went eyeball to eyeball to see who would win the coveted prize for finishing last. The judges for not making a timely attempt to finish the race could have eliminated both. The judges and other officials only have so much fun to dole around, until they decide enough is enough. And ultimately there is only so much fun one can have when it is 40 below.
