6:45 AM: It’s time. After a sleepless night in a park filled with festival goers strewn about amidst bottles of sangria, we were there: Smack dab in the middle of the path that would be traversed by six ravaging bulls in just over an hour. We made it in, nervously packed like sardines, but in just the spot we wanted to start. A day earlier we had scouted out the course, deciding on the most ideal position to start so as to make it past Dead Man’s Corner before the bulls, allowing them to pass us as we neared the entrance to the bull ring, but staying close enough to follow them into the ring. Now we wait…
7:30 AM: 30 minutes to go. Nervously, Ryan and I converse with those around us, hoping to speak with someone that has seen or participated in the spectacle before. By this point, we have already lost Cooper in the crowd and trying to find him was a lost cause. One down already, not a good start. The grocery bag I was holding held two last chocolate eclairs, left over from the night before. Chocolate eclairs that carry with them the title of “possibly your last meal” taste beyond delicious. After enjoying the pastry, it was time to ditch the bag and say a couple prayers…
7:50 AM: 10 minutes to go. A PA system relays instructions in languages that I don’t understand. And then I heard it…I could tell they were on to the English portion of the instructions, but until now hadn’t really heard what was being said. “Don’t touch the wounded.” A chilling reality set in: this was every man for himself, no exceptions.
7:55 AM: The crowd begins to move. I have no choice but to move with it. Immediately, I lose Ryan. It’s just me. I know the bulls aren’t out yet, so I slide off to the side and watch the sea of people go by, looking for Ryan, but seeing Cooper from behind as he is forced along with the crowd. And then, like a tidal wave, the crowd moves again, around dead man’s corner and onto the main straightaway. Looking at my watch, I realize there is still 1 minute before the bulls are out, so again I slide off, watching the second hand tick towards the top of my watch.
8:00 AM: The first rocket, the bulls are out. I freeze, gotta give time for the bulls to reach me, or get closer at least. 10 seconds later, the second rocket: They’re all out. Screams. Panic. Run! Off I go, down the narrow street underneath the balconies full of people cheering and screaming. Bodies strewn everywhere, people falling over themselves and others. The race so far was against the crowd. That would change shortly.
8:01 AM: More screams, more panic. But these were different, these screams were shear terror. The panic in people’s eyes was something I had never encountered before. The look of pure fear of one’s life has a profound effect on one’s pysche. Full on sprint, this was it. One glance back, 2 giant creatures barreling 3 feet to my left. Do I touch one? I’m gonna do it…one glance back to see if I can make the move and…NO, I can’t. Another bull plows through, right where I planned on moving. Another passes, and then another, further to my left. I somehow counted 6 bulls, even though only 5 passed. I was overcome with jubilation as I headed down into the bull ring with the rest of the crowd.
8:03 AM: Into the ring. 15,000 fans screaming and cheering for you as you enter, scattering about, jumping in celebration. Everyone was my best friend, we had all just conquered those famed bulls of Pamplona. Flash to the big screen, the last bull decided to sit down before entering the ring. After some prodding, he comes running in, scattering all of us inside. He finally goes through the ring, and the final rocket is set off….Pandemonium
Immediately I enter Gladiator mode, yelling at the crowd: “Are you not entertained?? Is this not why you are here??”
I knew exactly why I was there: to run and survive, and that’s exactly what I did.
Looking back, I knew what I was doing, but what was I thinking?