I think it’s been long enough ago that I can relate this story I wrote about a year ago:
Well, it started off like any other rugby weekend. The bus was supposed to leave at 3, so I showed up at around 3:30, just in time. Friday was pretty tame, everybody on the bus had about 6 or so beers on the way up to Breckenridge. We were careful to buy enough beer so we didn’t have to buy 3.2 beer on Sunday. We got in pretty late, so just had a few more beers and crashed out. The rugby was just like any other rugby weekend. We picked up some guys from NMT and UNM to fill out our side, which helped out a lot.
After going 1-2, the fun began!!! The party was hosted at a bar which had a special event permit to serve in their parking lot. Luckily, the only barrier was some yellow “CAUTION” tape, so our underage guys didn’t have any trouble getting in.
So we get to the party, and we hear there’s going to be a Rocky Mountain Oyster eating contest. Immediately, the entire team looks at me. I was all about the idea, but didn’t want to do it for naught. It was then announced that the prize was going to be a 4 foot tall, 6 foot long steel bull, complete with a pipe for a penis and two rugby balls for testicles. I WAS IN! Well, I’d had RMOs before, but they were served as an appetizer, battered, fried, and served with ranch dressing. These ones were boiled, and you could definitely distinguish the separate parts of anatomy, of which I will not go into detail. Ok, no big deal, right? Well, the thing is, they don’t taste like anything, and they don’t spell badly. The problem is the texture. It’s very similar to elastic rubber surgical tubing, yet only slightly more tender. At the opening whistle, I began chomping. Turns out, you can’t swallow that stuff whole. Dry heave number one. Then, I thought, “Hmm, I can just tear off little pieces, and swallow a few of those at a time.” That didn’t work, either. Well, at least I got third place. The final 2 guys went into overtime, where I went to the edge and puked up about 1/4 lb. of bull balls. And some other stuff I wished I hadn’t puked.
So, the party wears on, and the prize is awarded to some dude from Jackson Hole, WY, who seemed to be enjoying the event way too much. I guess those guys didn’t value the trophy very much, because they left it all alone during the boat races. Which Santa Fe won, by the way! So Simons and Gabe had the bright idea that we should take the bull. Woo whoop, vindication! So we waited for the boat race final, when all the attention was at the other end of the bar. Two of us gently lowered the bull over the fence, and two of us got it at the bottom. Then we moved it about 50 meters behind a van, and went back to the party. When we realized we weren’t spotted, we walked back to the van and carried the bull across the street. Let me tell you, carrying a bull with rugby balls as nuts across Main Street in downtown Breck is a pretty funny sight! I found a nice little niche behind a building and stashed the bull for later recovery.
It came time to hop bars, and I realized DP was too drunk to make it on his own. So I babysat him while on our way to the next pub. As I handed the bouncer my ID, he just shook his head, “your buddy’s not getting in here.” So I ended up walking him, very slowly I might add, back to the room. After stopping numerous times for directions (I was pretty wasted, too), we made it to the intersection we were looking for. Pablo announced he was hungry, so he went into the store and set 2 pizzas up on the counter. Then he just stares at me blankly, “I can’t find my money, dude.” Since this wasn’t the first time this happened that night, I bought the pizzas and started back to the condo. Somehow, I dont’ know how, he got lost between the condo and… Well, the condo. I spent damn near 15 minutes looking for him, and finally found him on a balcony to a completely different complex.
So, back to the bull. At about 3 in the morning, we figured the time was ripe to go back for the bull. Trueblood announced he was the most sober, so he’d be doing the driving. All was well; we got dropped off on the opposite side of the street from the bar, went across the field, and got the bull. After carrying it across yet another street in downtown Breck, we waited for the bus to make its circle. Well, when the bus got back, we couldn’t get the doors open!!! After messing with them for at least two minutes, we finally got them open.
Now that the bull was loaded, one of the guys asked if we could take him to his condo. On the way, we met a guy who was hitchhiking. We picked him up, and he invited us in for shots. As soon as we got there, he tried to impress us with his drums, which promptly woke up his roommate. So while he went into her room to talk about it, we promptly left. He came out, pretty upset, because a coyote or something’ had scattered his trash everywhere.
The rest of the night was pretty average, other than some occasional sleepwalking. When we woke up in the morning, stealing the bull didn’t seem like such a good idea, after all. Since it was already in the bus, we found a busy street corner to drop it off at, since we wouldn’t have had room for it on the way home. I left my email address on it to see if anything exciting happened to it. Well, turns out, I didn’t have to wait to check my mail. When we were watching the final between Vail and Aspen, we heard some whooping and hollering. Turns out, one of the Breckenridge guys saw it, picked it up, and brought it back to the pitch.
Here’s about a dozen pics of the weekend, and about half a dozen of the bull.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2001557&l=a3f90&id=110000200
