Funnel Cakes and Rattlesnakes Revisited

OK, I had to go back. Miss K and I got up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed around 1:00 on a sunny, gorgeous, big-sky Texas Saturday afternoon, and headed on out to Taylor, TX for the 32nd Annual Taylor Jayceesâ Rattlesnake Roundup and Sacking Championship.

For those of you that haven't read my Soapbox on this event from March of last year, a snake-sacking contest is pretty much this: how quick can you put 10 live rattlesnakes in a burlap sack? This event has it all -- carnival rides, midway games, slack-jawed barking carnies, fried stuff on a stick, snakeskin anything-you-could-possibly-freakin'-think-of -- and of course, a covered pavilion with wooden bleachers on all sides, surrounding a modified boxing ring full of pissed-off rattlesnakes. Insert one half-plowed, tattooed, fedora-Stetsoned, leather-vested ring announcer with a microphone and a sense of humor, three burly Jaycees with Kevlar camouflage shin-guards, and three rounds of ten teams of two, and you've got yerself a sackin' contest!

Last year's Championship was in March, and it was muddy and cold that day, so the snakes were lazy and fairly non-aggressive. But not this year!! It was April, it was about 80-degrees, and man (or should I say "yee-haw", or maybe a good olâ Jed Clampett "wheee, doggie"), we got to see some stuff this time. No sooner than we walked down the concrete ramp behind the bleachers and hoisted ourselves up onto the railing for a good view (beside four paramedics munching hot dogs), than we heard the ring announcer bust out with a rousing "Whooo, mercy, he just got bit there, folks!" At the same time we notice a husky and heavily mulleted fella hopping around in circles, holding his finger and being whisked off to the side of the ring by a Constable and a guy with a giant syringe. They stood around a few minutes, about five other guys huddled around them, maybe three others kicking rattlesnakes into corners of the ring. The crowd murmured, the snakes buzzed, and then came the announcement: "He just got nicked, so he's alright, folks. They're taking him to the tent now, but he's a local boy, so I'm sure he'll be back next year...." A half hour later we see the guy walking around with a corndog in one hand and about five feet of gauze wrapped around his other like a boxing glove.

There's a mighty fine line between ballsy and crazy, folks, and we were sitting there watching it in all its glory.

I think the part we enjoyed the most this year was just listening to the announcer. As I said before, he was quite a character -- we actually met & talked to him this year, getting into a deep conversation on the ins and outs of the tattoo world. A hefty beer gut, a rough tan, a heavy spattering of tattoos old and new, and I couldn't quite tell if that was a sparkle or a glaze I could see in his eyes. Probably a little of both. Anyhow, the guy was damn hilarious, one of those guys that just seems born to be a... well, a ring announcer at a snake-sacking contest. Rather than try any more inadequate descriptions, I'll just list a few of my favorite quotes heard throughout the day:

"This is redneck heaven, folks! Ol' Foxworthy ain't seen nothing till he's been here, I tell you that right now.... Ladies and gentleman, if you're signing autographs at a snake-sacking contest -- you might be redneck!"

"Our next contestant is Earl ____, and holding the sack for him will be his mother, Betty...."

"Well, we haven't had a single ambulance come screaming up here, folks, so we consider this year's Sacking Championship a success!!"

And, while we were chatting with him: "I used to do tattoos....man, we was were up all last night drinkin', partyin' with the sackers..... whooo, that bunch can party... I gave one of the sackers a tattoo..."

And of course, my very favorite: "It only got his fingernail, folks.... no blood, so no points deducted!"

That one came after a contestant chunked his 7th snake into the burlap sack, reached down to pick up his 8th snake by the head, jerked his hand up real quick and shook it, and freaking kept going! He got all 10 snakes in the sack in a pretty good time, too, before they rushed him off to ringside for the giant syringe treatment and Jaycee huddle. Another interesting rule -- they check the hands of each contestant before they enter the ring, and put pen marks beside every nick or cut on each hand. That way they can tell if a person leaves the ring with any new bites or scratches, and deduct their score accordingly. I mean, you gotta play fair.

In between sacking rounds, we made our way around the fairgrounds. First the beer stand, of course. Then hang a left and walk up the ramp toward the bazaar area, where folks with WAY too much time on their hands sit vigilantly at booths that sell all size and shape and texture of mostly worthless bric-a-brac -- everything from jewelry to toys to hot sauce to rattlesnake balls (one of the finds of last year). Of course there were the girls from the local booby-bar slinking around in a booth, selling t-shirts and koozies and looking bored as hell. We had seen in an ad that there was supposed to be a chili cookoff, but when we got there all there was a little neon-green posterboard with "chili cookoff" written in black Sharpee -- but no chili, and definitely no cookoff. Oh well... But, we weren't totally disappointed! We did get there just in time to see two little kids (under 6 years old) get their picture taken -- with a 5-foot python wrapped around their bodies, sitting on the giant Tupperware tub it just came out of. They were in the little chicken-wire pen with the handler/photographer -- aaaand a 2-foot Gila monster! Their family was outside the little pen behind the photographer, saying "Smile!, smile!" The kids were grinning from ear to ear, and were totally comfortable and unafraid. The Gila monster or monitor lizard or whatever it was creepin' around, just checking everybody out and minding his own business, and the kids were all cool with the whole thing. I think I'm making it sound a little more weird than it was -- it didn't seem like there was any danger at all, it was just an odd scene to walk up on. People were walking around everywhere with snakes around their necks -- boas, pythons, garden snakes, whatever. I got to touch one of the rattlers, too, which was pretty cool.

Which brings me to another favorite part, which is the holding pen for the snakes. I already went into detail on this in last year's account, but this year's pen was even better -- more snakes, bigger snakes, meaner snakes. Again, if you haven't read my Soapbox on last year's Roundup, the holding pen is a little concrete building with a plexiglass front, in which stands a couple of the thick-booted handlers and about 100 rattlesnakes. They are anywhere from 2 to 5 feet long, all huddled into four squirming masses, one in each corner. When they get too bunched up, one of the handlers reaches his long metal poker-catcher-deal in the middle of a pile, and starts pulling snakes out by the dozen and tossing them into the middle of the floor -- you know, for good show and all. They all go slithering back to their piles, or come at the handler, striking at his boots, or trying to crawl in a vertical line up the wall. As we kneel down behind the small crowd, peering through peoples kneecaps, we see two little girls right in front of the plexiglass, arm in arm, pointing at the snakes in intense curiosity, and whispering to each other. Then, we hear in a perfect little 5-year-old squeak: "What are their names?" Hilarious. We're 3 feet away from a what a 32-year-old sees as a squirming pile of venomous death, and the 5-year-old sees potential pets. Ah, to be a rugrat again.... I mean, all animals have names, right?

As soon as we make our way to the front of the crowd, right by the 4-foot plexiglass barrier, a handler looks over at us and says, "Yawntuchwun?" Which any good Southerner knows means "Hey, folks! Would like to touch one of these rattlesnakes?" Of course we said yes -- which any good rattlesnake handler knows means "Hellfukinyeah!" -- so he found a good 3 footer, stuck the prod down on its big diamond-shaped dome, and bent over and picked it up by the sides of the head.. He hissed and his mouth gaped open (the snake, not the handler...although that would have been pretty scary too), then he put the prod in the snake's mouth, pulling the fangs out for us to see. He took the other end of the snake in his other hand, and held it out to us: "Here. Feel the underside of his tail, run yer hand under there -- feel that? Go one way, it's smooth; rub the other way, it's scaly. That's how he moves - you know, like a bulldozer tractor?" Uh-huh... Wow, that's damn cool. Thanks for the brutal emasculation and all... I'm gonna go get a funnel cake now.

After a tasty funnel cake that left me looking like Jon Belushi at a swell party at Tony Montana's pad, came the trip around the carnival -- the usual array of carnival games, and rides designed for either little kids to go round and round while their parents take pictures, or for teenagers (or adrenaline-deficient adults) to give themselves major spinal damage. And it must be in the carnie union bylaws that no ride may be under 30 years old, and no carnie may have above a 3rd grade education or both eyes that point in the same direction. Well, I was macho enough to knock down those damned concrete milk bottles with a softball, and won my lovely Miss K a little stuffed donkey -- almost as good for juvenile sexual innuendo as the stuffed pink snake I won her last year. "Hey, nice ass!", "So, where you gonna put your ass?", "Here, will you hold my ass?" I think K and I quipped about 500 of these genius little gems from the time we got it till we got home.

Of course, no Rattlesnake Roundup would be complete without a stop on the way home at Louis Mueller Barbecue in Taylor-- the most ridiculous, heavenly-inspired ribs on the planet. Last year we brought home enough ribs, chicken, and brisket to eat on for 3 weeks. I think I finished it off in about 2 days. So, mouths watering, we park the car at Mueller's and get out and walk to the front door --- just in time for the guy to close the screen over the door and turn the little sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED". We just stood there in disbelief. Unblinking and jaws agape, looking at each other like we had just seen Santa Claus smack a child. It was like a movie in slow motion -- the guy turns the sign around with an agonizing "whoosh"... I lunge at the door screaming "Nooooooooo.......!", the sign bangs down on the glass with a deafening THUD, like a cathedral door closing on a beggar at Thanksgiving. We fall to our knees, clawing the air, faces to the heavens... "Whyyyyyyyy??!?!?!?" So, we went next door to world-famous Mikeskas. It was pretty good, I guess. Sigh...

But, we still agree with the ring announcer -- this year's Taylor Jaycees 32nd Annual Rattlesnake Roundup and Sacking Championship was a definite success. We got to see a couple more guys get chomped on, see a few more bad-asses that put all 10 snakes in the sacks like they were potatoes in a garden (I think the best time this year was 48 seconds), and some really irritated and ambitious rattlesnakes, both the little squirmy ones and the big bloated giants. We left with happy hearts, a mild buzz, a cute little ass, and that one burning question for the ages that will go forever unanswered... just what were their names?