hmmm. Saturday, January 9th 2016. My family goes on an annual winter vacation and for two years in a row it has been to Costa Rica. After a week of soaking up the sun, fishing, sailing, and all around relaxation our vacation was coming to a close. We were scheduled to fly out of Liberia, Costa Rica the next morning. Dad was currently settling the bill with the local sailing club. I was walking on the beach. The sun shining was lavishing me with its 90ºF rays¬–it was glorious. When I reached Dad, lovingly called Pops Man, he was deep in conversation with Jeff, the proprietor of the Costa Rica Sailing Club. The conversation was intriguing. Hearing snatches, “ultimate non tourist attraction… Churros and monkey meat” I was hooked. “Carnage. Lots of carnage.” At this point I asked, “What are you talking about?” Jeff said. “A Costa Rican rodeo.” Now understand this; in Costa Rica ‘rodeo’ is a loose term. It usually boils down to a bullfight with a cowboy on top. The conversation dragged on, and on, and on… After what seemed like hours we departed for the condo. After diner Pops Man posed the question of who wanted to go. Woody the youngest said no, Dave was sick so he couldn’t go, Mom wanted to stay with Dave, so that left Ross, Pops Man, and Me. We set off after dark for Tempate Costa Rica. The roads in Costa Rica are sketchy at best. This road was the worst. It was a dark dirt road over a mountain with a sizable crevice in the middle of the road the entire route. So it was Dark Decrepit Mountain Road v. a small 4wd SUV. Lets just say it was a rough drive. After finally making there we got out of the car, only to get fleeced with paying for protection from the local gangs. After admissions another fleecing, we were dead broke. The town of Tempate, Costa Rica is small and rural with the field-for-town-square as the arena. The fence around the arena was made of sapling cut down with a Y at the top so you could lay other trees on it with four horizontal trees placed at increments of three feet apart. The whole object was about fifteen feet tall. If you are still lost, try a fifteen feet tall chain link fence minus the chain. Walking around the barrier we noticed the stalls with delicious looking and now unattainable churros. Which at this point I will admit was my primary reason for going. Hey I had never had a churro so don’t start groaning about teenage boys and food. It’s rude and 100% true. On the far side there where what you could only describe as carnival equipment but were more like human sized washing machines intent on break at least one bone before you got off. I know what you are thinking, but I am not that stupid to actually beg my father into selling his apple watch so I could afford a trip on that advanced–yet archaic torture device. No. We moved on. After reaching the only thing that you could call a grandstand. Think benches on wooden stilts reaching the upper atmosphere. Avoiding yet again another death trap we finished our loop around the roughly two soccer fields sized arena and we found our spot. After quickly scurrying up the fence so I could see above the masses, I noticed the collection of Costa Rican toddlers playing in the arena. Think about that. Toddlers… Bulls… Same place… The toddlers cleared out and as the cowboys lined up in the field, a collection of teenagers assembled on the field at the edge of the fence. Ha! Nice try, but I know your thoughts: I wasn’t one of them. The first bull was released with an unfortunate; cowboy on top of it much to my surprise the bull was the unfortunate one. After reaching the time required for winning the cowboy leaped off the bull in a graceful pounce, landed on his feet and waltzed off the field. The teenagers proceeded to ‘fight’ the bull. The bull lost again. It was like watching two graceful dancers doing the tango with a drunk, lead-footed klutz. The bull was finally defeated and the second dance began. By the time the fourth bull was sent back to its stall dad decided that I should jump down and get my picture taken in the ring. So I did. The fifteen feet was an easy drop for me. When dad tried to take the picture he noticed a seemingly trivial problem that his phone was full; while he was deleting unwanted pictures another bull was released. This one tried futilely to dump its partner. In the end the bull gave up in total defeat with his legs sprawled out on the ground. This rider was a professional. The bull not interested in rest of dance submitted and went right into his stall. The advertisers wanted their glory to. A commercial break! Ross joined me and dad took the picture. At this point you may recall how insanely boring advertisements are. The Costa Rican attitude is the same. They decided to remedy this by releasing a rider less bull. My brother and the other costa Ricans split without a word. Leaving me blissfully alone. The bull swooped in like a true TIE fighter squadron and nailed me on the first pass. The Galactic Empire isn’t known for mercy. Neither was this bull. After the second bombardment I skipped out of there like a cat out of water. My shoe and glasses gone and my pants, Split down the middle. After being suffocated by a throng of locals, and noticing my hand about two inches to the left of where it used to be. I went to the med tent.