Eight Seconds in Cheyenne

In July, two Jersey kids, my best friend and I, drove to Wyoming for the Cheyenne Frontier Days rodeo. We are both from New Jersey. We had never seen a cow up close.

We bought cowboy hats from a booth at the gate. We ate turkey legs the size of baseball bats. We sat in the grandstands surrounded by families who'd been coming for fifty years, and they adopted us immediately and explained everything.

A bull rider has to stay on for eight seconds. I learned that eight seconds can be the longest time in the world. The crowd counted out loud with every ride. When a young rider from Montana made it to eight and then flew off into the dirt and stood up waving his hat, the whole stadium rose to its feet.

There were barrel racers, steer wrestlers and little kids riding sheep in a "mutton busting" contest, clinging to the wool with both fists while their parents screamed. One tiny girl in pink boots won it all and waved to the crowd like a queen.

We drove home wearing our hats the whole way.