One of my favorite sayings, which I first saw on a beer cozy in Riverside when
I was 19is this: "To be old and wise, you must first be young and stupid."
That saying is no more prevelent then it is right now today. As I sit here in
a small second floor internet cafe in Pamplona, Spain, it comes with great difficulty
that I try to get my feelings across the cyberspace world and to you all in
an effective manner. Let's just go with it and see what happens...
Today, I
ran with the bulls. I woke up at 5:30 am this morning to a thunder storm outside
my hotel room window. The storm had apparently cleared the streets of about
half of the drunken revelers who had been in the streets since the previous
running the morning before.
If you don't know how this whole thing works, let
me share with you a little about how it goes. The bulls run at 8 am, the people
drink all day, go to the bull fights are at about 6 in the evening, and then
the people return to drinking in the streets until it is once again time to
run.
We (my friend Ryan Schneider, his friend Jeff, and myself) decided
to get to bed early last night and get up early to run since Jeff leaves this
afternoon and this is his only shot to do what he came to do. Ryan was easily
talked into it when Jeff and I convinced him of how much cooler it was going
to be to be able to say that not only did we run with the bulls, but we did
it in the rain. And I felt I was getting a little sick, and if I was going to
run at all, better to do it today rather than tomorrow when I may be even worse
off.
We spent the most of last night going over our "strategy." I
was the one who kept saying that no matter how much you plan, it's going to
come down to "run like hell!" During the hour that we stood stretching
in the bull run route and discussing more about our strategy with everyone we
met, I still kept saying "strategy, strategy, strategy...RUN LIKE HELL!"
The last person we met was a kid about our age who had run the day before and
gave us the most sound advise we had had until then. That advise came down to
"ok, NOW! RUN!" And then he was gone.
I seem to remember turning around
and looking for bulls, or horns, or anything, and I think I took a picture of
whatever it was that I didn't see (I'll have to wait to get the film developed),
then I turned around and RAN like I was being chased by a pack of wild bulls.
I ran with the crowd of frantic people for what seemed like 100 meters before
feeling somehow that the bulls were just too close for comfort so I jumped onto
the closest fence I could find, ready to throw myself over as soon as I noticed
anything life threatening heading my way. As soon as I was on the fence, a pack
of bulls ran past me no more then 6 feet away. So close I could feel their heat
and panic as the terrified beasts blurred by me.
I stayed on the fence waiting
for "the second wave" I had heard about. I kept watching, and the
bulls seemed to keep coming. I looked to my left and noticed Ryan and Jeff had
clung to the same fence I had, and we all sat there with the hundreds of other
men with adrenaline filled smiles on their faces. I heard through the murrmer
of the crowd that there were more bulls coming. More bulls. We all kept waiting
and watching. More bulls? We jumped down from our saftey perch and breifly regrouped.
No more bulls. But the adreneline was still there. Not knowing if the second
wave had already come, or if it was still behind us, we once again ran like
hell to down the route. We psyched ourselves up enough to actually feel like
the bulls were right behind us again.
They weren't, but we kept running. You
could feel the excitment in the crowd as we ran past, heading towards the arena.
And then it was all over. The whole ordeal had lasted no more than four minutes.
And we had later found out that we had only run "with" the bulls for
about 30 yards. But we had run like hell, and lived to tell about it.
In my
life, there are certain things that I have always somehow known would just happen.
College. Graduation. Marriage/family. Career. Retirement. Death.
Then there
are things that, when you stop to think about them, you say to yourself "yeah,
that would be so cool if it ever happened to me, but that's probably not going
to." This includes stuff like winning the lottery. Going to the moon. Being
written about in History books for doing something that changes the course of
humanity. Winning an Oscar. Becoming President. Running with the bulls in Pampolona.
Creating a great piece of art today that is admired and still considered a great
piece of art 1000 years from now. Climbing Mt. Everest. Singlehandedly sailing
around the world. Or accidently finding a cure for cancer.
Well, cross one of
those items off my life's checklist. Next stop, the moon.
30 minutes later,
Ryan, Jeff, and myself were in a small spanish coffee shop watching Ryan's hands
shake as he tried to drink his fresh squeezed orange juice. Someone had told
us just before the cannon went off to signal that the bulls had been released
that if you have a near death experience, the next meal you have will be one
of the best meals you've ever eaten in your life. Now I'm not saying I had a
near death experience, I'm just saying that the cup of coffee I had out of that
plastic cup, and the creme filled pastry were probably better tasting than any
breakfast I've had in a long time.
We were alive. Unhurt. Able to say that with
yet another act of young stupidity, we were all on our way to being old and
wise. And isn't that what living is all about?
Walking the earth like Kane,
Chris Dwan
P.S. Tomorrow, Ryan and I run all the way to the arena with the bulls
and dance around in the arena for an hour dodging horns!
P.P.S. oh yeah, and after the bulls, we sat on the steps of the police station and smoked Cuban Cigars. Cross another item off of Life's "to do" list.
This was my friend Ryan Schneider's take on this morning's procedings. A little bit more detailed than my own. But also from a different perspective.
GOOOOOOOOOOD MONDAY MORNIN TO YA!!!!!!!!!!!
Excuse the loud wakeup but while
y'all were sleeping during the past two hours i made a last-second decision,
along with my buddies chris dwan, and jeff ferry, to run with the bulls in pamplona
... in the rain! (which, by the way, is a total misnomer ... make no mistake,
you are running your ass off FROM the bulls!)
WHAT AN ADRENALINE RUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my other travel buddy, steve o´beirne, had a bit of a rough evening and
watched the procedings from the arena but enjoyed them nonetheless. here is
the not so quick play-by-play recap ....
whoooooooooooooeeeee!!! first off,
pamplona is raging big time. got in yesterday about noon after spending the
afternoon the day before in barcelona, after spending july 4-7 in ibiza (an
entirely out of this world experience on its own). the entire town here is clad
in white shirts, white pants, red sash and red scarf bandana. every block features
an impromptu parade with bands, and often giant paper meche characters of san
fermin, the patron saint of pamplona. people are dancing in the streets, and
drinking at every bar along the way. sheer bedlam.
i am staying in the heart
of it all, a little pension at placa del toros. thank goodness steve and i reserved
this place in may ... it really paid off. people sleep in parks, in streets,
alley ways, anywhere they find basically. i had a bed and air conditioning.
went to sleep early last evening, mainly because i was exhausted from lack of
sleep and realized the chances of running safely would increase drastically
should i remain coherent and sober. go figure. but the rest of the town partied
all nite, literally.
i awoke at 6 to the pitter patter sounds of rain outside,
and of course the constant techno and drum and bass rock echoing from outside
our door. chris and jeff were waiting eagerly outside the pension ready to go
and that sealed the deal ... we were initially concerned about running in the
rain b-c it is that much riskier of course because of the cobblestone streets.
we staked our point of entry out yesterday and devised a strategy on how we
would run. (funny how said strategy goes right out the window when a quintet
of bulls comes charging up the street looking to ram your ass) we went this
morning to a point just before calle estefada, the main thoroughfare toward
the bull fighting arena. if you saw cnn recently, it was the point where the
bulls make a wide, sweeping left turn before a quick right onto calle estefada.
this is where some serious shit can go wrong. but if you´re smart it is
also a good point to begin bc we were able to remain inside the bulls´running
line. they lose their footing when making the turn and you can remain safely
out of their horns´reach. we had to be inside the gates, ready on the
streets by 730 a.m., but we were there and stretching of course ... me being
somewhat anal retentive still ... by 7.
longest hour of my life folks. all the
what ifs played out in my head ... including the fact that today, july 9 is
mi madre´s birthday ... fill in the blanks of what i was exploring in
my head during these tense, electrifying moments. then, 8 a.m. strikes to the
sounds of chanting "ole, ole ole!!" and a cannon goes off. we were
surrounded by runners whom were also first timers. they too decided to run spontaneously,
offering the same excuse as chris, jeff and i ... if we just watch today, we
may psyche ourselves out of running tomorrow. so basically we had a platoon
of newbies trying to figure out what the hell was happening. we thought we had
a terrifc view from our perch of the bulls, but we couldn´t see anything
develop until a burst .. make that a tsunami ... of people exploded past us.
one guy in front of me shouted, "oh fuck! run!!!!!!!!!" so we did!
jeff first, chris behind me. my hand was on jeff´s back so we didnt get
separated. i thought chris fell off to the side and i ended up grabbing a guy
by the back of his shirt collar to pick him up as he had stumbled. chris was
nowhere to be found but we had to keep running. rounded our left turn as planned
and then the bulls appeared like a horizontal blockade of tanks. jeff and i,
white eyed, clung to the leftmost gate and hoisted ourselves upward quicker
than any one of our fine united states olympic gymnasts could. the bulls rocketed
by, no more than 6 feet away from jeff and i. if that weren´t enough,
the second wave of bulls followed within 10 seconds, a tamer bunch of long-horned
cows. we remained glued to our wall when we relocated chris, who was just down
from us doing the same thing! we jogged behind the second batch of mad cows
for another 40 yards before our breath caught up with us and we scooted to an
exit. my hands are still shaking as i write this.
undoubtedly the most terrifying,
exciting, stupid thing ive ever done. we heard there were injuries today, including
one guy who got bucked over the side of the wall allegedly in the same area
as where we were fleeing ... but we didn´t see anything like that happen.
no, im not running again tomorrow. i want to marvel at the proceedings in the
arena, where once the bulls and encenierros are inside, the officials close
the doors and people "play" with the bulls for the next 60 minutes.
that means they try to swat them on the ass with newspapers or grab their horns
(which are capped at this stage by cowherds to prevent gorings) to shouts of
"ole!" from the frenzied mob crowd. i´m a bit left of normal,
but not that certifiably insane! or you can use your judgement about that assertion.
be home in six days ... see ya soon. this likely will be my last note before
reaching the good ole usa. a serene but somber thought still.
rs