On Riding a Mechanical Bull

Pre Story:
On Friday night my cousin was in town on a business trip. I drove down to the city with Nick to have dinner and hang out with her for the night. After dinner it was still pretty early in the night so we made our way to some bars downtown. We ended up at a country bar that featured none onther than a mechanical bull. I realized that this was the first time in my life that I had seen a mechanical bull in person. And let me tell you, he was angry. We stayed about an hour and a half watching person after person try to show the bull who's boss. The average person lasted about 4 seconds on the bull. Any one of these people who messed with the bull got the horns. I decided to NOT ride the mechanical bull because:

Story #1:
I have no desire to ride a bull. I am pretty modest when it comes to looking like a fool in front of a bar full of people. isn't everyone? Although I think I exude confidence, I get very self conscious in front of crowds. In my senior year of high school I performed a senior girls' dance at our pep rally. It was a disaster. I am the worst dancer and I am still embarassed when I think about it. I cringe whenever I hear the song "Stand Up" by Ludacris on the radio. I also always imagine the worst things in the world happening when I get nervous about being in front of a crowd. I imagined me falling off of the bull and my ta-tas falling out of my shirt. I imagined me falling off and being the one moron who flies too far off of the bull and hit my head on a part of the wall that is not padded. I imagined getting seriously hurt and then the bar would have to close and everyone would be mad at me. I imagined an unknown coworker being somewhere in the bar watching me. So, the reason I did not ride the bull is because I had no desire of embarrassing myself in front of my cousin, my fiance, nor any of the fine folks in the so cal country bar.

Story #2:
Riding a mechanical bull has actually always been something that I wanted to do. I had every intention on riding the bull on the way to the bar. I wanted to watch a few folks first so that I could see how it was done before I took my turn. The first few people that I saw were men. Surprisingly they all were tossed off the bull quicker than the ladies. I noticed that the mechanical bull operator (what a job!) went much easier on the girls. Probably because the clientele in the bar was largely creepy old men wearing cowboy hats (in so cal?). Anyways. Then the ladies started to ride. The first few ladies wore jeans and I have two words for you: butt cracks. I had never seen so many in my life. Each girl who got on the bull, no matter how high her jeans were or how long her shirt was, we... the audience... saw her BC loud and proud. Then the deal breaker happened. A girl in a jean skirt (yeah, great planning) got on the bull. Within seconds of her riding the bull we...the audience... saw plenty of butt crack and then some. Where are these girls' mommas?! I was wearing leggings and a very long shirt. I probably could have gotten away without revealing any of my private areas, but in no way did I want to risk it. So, the reason that I did not ride the bull was because I chose my dignity over the bull ride on Friday night.

Highlight the text after the star to reveal which story is true * The true story is story #2. I have always wanted to ride a mechanical bull. However, I am very glad that I was a spectator during my first mechanical bull bar experience. I will definitely get my chance one day, and I now I will know how to dress appropriately. If I want to ride a mechanical bull, I will have to wear either a: a one piece leotard or b: a huge pair of overalls.