Chuck Wagon Deluxe

Yesterday morning we joined lots of other cowboys and gals – real and wannabes – for breakfast at the 68^th Annual Long Beach Rodeo.  We wore our boots and hats, of course, but the closest to Hi Ho Silver we got was arriving at the rodeo grounds in our silver P.T. Cruiser.

Not to worry.  There are no pre-requisites to breakfast beyond a hearty appetite and $6.00.  Pretty great for a thick slice of ham, eggs cooked any way you specify, two pancakes and all the coffee you can drink.  And, if you ask nicely, there are seconds on the pancakes.

Cowboy Nyel

So… good food, good price, and good company!  We always see lots of folks we know.  Some are there just to help.  Some are there because they’ll be riding later in the day.  Some are there to watch.  And some, like us, are just there for breakfast.

Breakfast is served from 7 to 11.  We arrived with only fifteen minutes to spare and were surprised to find the dining hall crowded and a line waiting to order.  Joanne Bays was standing in front of me and I asked her “how come.”

“It was slack this morning,” she said.  “That’s why so many are here now.”

Cowgirl with Cowboy-sized Coffee

  I was pretty sure she wasn’t talking in circles and that “slack” had a meaning beyond “loose” in cowboy parlance, but by then it was our time to order and I had to let it go.  Later, I learned from trusty old Google:

Long ago, professional rodeo was faced with a conundrum of how to keep performances somewhat short and still find a way to get the many timed-event contestants their required runs.
With slack, all the excess entries are scheduled separately from the main rodeo performances. It’s almost a rodeo inside another rodeo.

            Hot damn!  I think that means that if we’d arrived a bit earlier we’d have seen some tie down ropers or steer wrestlers strutting their stuff.  We did luck out and saw a little of the barrel racing (and when did Reece Pierson get so grown up and beautiful, anyway?)

But, unfortunately, it was a case of eat and run for us.  We were on our way to the big city for an entirely different sort of endeavor – to be present for our friend Susan’s PhD dissertation defense.  From cowboy arena to university campus almost before you can say Buffalo Bill Cody or Albert Einstein ten times.  (A slight exaggeration.  Even at mid-day on a Sunday, there is no freeway between Olympia and Tacoma; only a parking lot.)

Whoo Hoo! Summer on the outskirts of Oysterville!  What could be better?