The Mechanical Bull at the Bar: Tread Lightly

There are many great amenities available at bars that can really change the experience of the night. Some of the more notable stars on that list include Happy Hour, 2 for 1 deals, and anything involving a karaoke machine. Those are all variables to an absolutely electric night out at the bars. 

A mechanical bull is an honorable mention to that list, but there needs to be an *asterisk* next to the title. A mechanical bull is one of those activities where if it’s present and fully operational, you have to ride it. You have to. It’s not a tip, it’s a prescription. A binding requirement. 

At least that’s how our simple human minds work. We are like moths to a lamplight. We have to try it.

But anytime they make you sign a release form before you ride it should raise some alarms. It should be an area of concern at the very least. But of course, you sign the damn release form. You’re not going to let a piece of paper get in the way of you publicly displaying that man will always beat machines, especially after you tell the ride operator to crank the speed to “Texas Maximum.” 

Like I said, there should be an asterisk next to the title of mechanical bull under the list of great amenities at bars. In addition to nursing an award-winning hangover, I woke up this morning to see that my pinky finger looked like an L-shaped couch. I didn’t even know it could move in that direction. 

Was this my last ride on a mechanical bull again? Absolutely not. 

Will you see me saddle up once again and prove that man is still king? Bet the mortgage on it.

Until then, be wary of the Texas Maximum speed. Everything is bigger in Texas, including numbers. Speed is just a number. The pain I woke up to is a concept, therefore it is not real.

Please enjoy the footage of me cementing my name on the list of fallen heroes who tried to conquer a beast like this. I didn’t realize at the time that I had a bigger crowd than Tiger Woods on the 18th hole at Augusta.

By the way, the answer is yes, I was indeed wearing a Prestige Worldwide t-shirt with burgundy sunglasses I picked up off the ground (Dior).

Written by Henry Marken

I lost my pinky finger at age 4, but then found it again at a soup kitchen when I was 15. Survivor of a wild turkey attack (2008). I went to the University of Phoenix before it was cool to do college online. Currently in a lawsuit with Crayola after a devastating purple crayon incident.

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