RATTLESNAKE RUCKUS, PART II

Yep, I did it again. Oh, horrible, heartless me.... I went and watched those poor snakes get mishandled and mistreated last weekend, at the Taylor Jaycees' 33rd Annual Rattlesnake Round-up and Sacking Championships. We loaded up Jason A., Cherri, Miss K and myself in Jason's big ol' pick-em-up truck Saturday afternoon and headed out to Taylor to see the sights. And there they were, in all their glory!

No huge change to report from previous years: snakes, snake stuff, carnival rides that even the carnies won't get on, more snakes, stubby-fingered snake handlers and sackers, the raucous and hilarious ring announcer (he actually added "Git 'er done!" to his usual repertoire of "Bring 'em home!" patter), overpriced cans of cold-ish beer, more fried stuff on a stick than you can... uh... shake a stick at. One nice added bonus this year....... a rock climbing wall!! Yes, anybody from bewildered 4-year-olds to bewildered (and shnockered) 54-year-olds can strap on the G-rated S&M harness and climb up a 30-foot fiberglass wall dotted with "rocks" for footholds, punctuated with a triumphant HONK from a horn/buzzer thing that went off when anybody reached the top. And here's a swift observation our perceptive little clan made: Is it really such a grand idea to have an attraction with an 8000-decibel HORN that bleats every 10 minutes or so -- about 10 yards from people trying to pick up pissed-off rattlesnakes, not to mention the guy trying to kiss a cobra on the head????? Mmm, no, not really... not such a wise choice. I know snakes don't have ears and all, but the sackers do! Yes, a guy really did the old "kiss-a-cobra" trick (on the head, while it's fully hooded), and the whole time I was waiting for that damn horn to go off, making the guy flinch for a second, and the cobra gives him a new pair of nostrils in the center of his forehead. But oh well, no such luck.

Here's a couple of "dammits": First of all, we didn't see anybody get chomped on! The last few years we've at least seen one poor dude get his hand nicked or something, but this year, nada! Maybe it's because we went on Saturday, and not Sunday. Maybe the sackers still had their "A-game". Anyhow, everybody finished their sacking rounds unscathed and un-venomed. What a pisser. Dammit #B is that they changed the venue. Until this year, it was held in a little town park, with wooden bleachers set up around the sacking ring, which looks like a modified boxing ring (elevated about 4 feet, surrounded with plexiglass), and the booths and rides and vendors set up in the pavillion and grass nearby. This year, the whole shebang was held in a different park, which had a huge covered concrete & dirt open-air rodeo arena, with everything but the carvival rides inside. They went and got all "uppity" on us! Oh well, times change....

Also, we wondered if it was such a good idea to have the "snake pit" and the "petting zoo" within 50 feet of each other? It should be no problem, I guess -- you just gotta hope nobody switches the signs. We did see a young tike who appeared to have made the mix-up -- about 4 years old, he'd scaled his way halfway up the outside fence of the snake pit before some vigilant adult pulled him down: "No, honey, we don't pet those." Guess his parents were off buying him a "Baby's First ATF Set", complete with 2 kinds of cap guns, a toy grenade, and a pair of plastic handcuffs....or possibly planning to surprise little Bubba with a nice pack of toy cigarettes. And I couldn't make that stuff up -- both those items were actually on sale there.

The snake pit, for those un-initiated in the round-up, is a concrete-and-plexiglass enclosure, about 20X20, filled with about 100 rattling and hissing Western Diamonback rattlenakes all over the floor and hanging out in huge piles in each corner, accompanied by 3 or 4"handlers". These guys walk around in there, donning their protective "snake chaps", and either picking up snakes to show to people, or making them strike at hats or their boots. One guy actually stood there in the ring making chit-chat with another handler while a 5-foot rattlesnake was rapid-fire striking his shins like a woodpecker, and he just glanced at it, and went about his conversation. You know, there's badass, and there's badass....

And, Dammit #C, and the biggest dammit of them all -- Louis Mueller's BBQ was.. and I quote... "OUT OF FOOD"!!!!!!!! We called ahead, to check what time they closed. We drove by there on the way to the Round-Up, just to make 100% sure they were open. We left the park at 4:30 to get there way before they closed at 6:00. And as we drove up, mouths watering and fired up for the bast damn 'cue within 50 miles, we saw the sign. Out of food???

Are you FREAKING kidding me? First of all, how the hell does that happen, on a Saturday afternoon with a festival in town? Nice planning. And second of all, why not just say "CLOSED" and go the hell home? Out of food??? It's probably a pretty safe bet that you can call it a night. So, we thought... next best thing, right? We'll go to Johnny Mueller's BBQ, which is Louis' son, and his place is 5 minutes from our house. WRONG. You guessed it -- "OUT OF FOOD". We were dumbfounded. I guess the family butcher had a heart attack or something. Maybe he was a snake-sacker, and got bitten earlier in the day before we got there. Who knows? So, we finally had to "settle" for Hoover's BBQ, which is across the street from Johnny Mueller's. Hoover's ribs are heavenly and the best in town, so even with a foot-long corn dog only an hour into my digestive tract, I was glad to order up a half-rack, gnaw down 3 ribs, and take the rest home. Jason & Cherri dropped us off (at least we got to listen to the 'Horns baseball team on the radio, winning their millionth game! Oh, and Cherri, I meant to tell you.... the Streets said to tell you hello....), and Miss K and I waddled into the homestead with happy thoughts and sloppy grins.

All in all, a grand old time as usual! We came home with full bellies, our rattlesnake fix satiated for another year, a head full of alcohol and enough phallic snake jokes to last for a good while, and I won Miss K a stuffed pig by throwing darts at balloons. Damn, sometimes I love Texas.

Roger