After a hard day of basic training, you could eat a rattlesnake. – Elvis Presley
It was time, it was past time, and my wife insisted we get new windows. We live in Florida and our windows were 30+ years old. Costing us money every sunny day. So, now we have tinted double-pane beauties which make the entire house look much newer. She’s happier and so am I.
But I had to rearrange my office and a long lost manila envelope fell open. There were old notes in the envelope. Note from the 70’s, when I was young and had no clue. This is one of those notes.
On television last year I saw a news report about a Southwestern pastime called the Rattlesnake Rodeo. In addition to catching the reptiles, the men – I’d like to think women have more sense – put the snakes in their pockets and around their necks.
Another game involved placing a half-dozen rattlers into a sleeping bag. The contestant then crawls into the same bag, pretends to snooze, then crawls out again.
I guess, if you die, you lose.
I imagine, too, personal records are attained by increasing the number of snakes or by staying in the bag longer. I don’t know if there are separate record lists for down sleeping bags or artificial fiber.
“It’s a sport,” one guy said, “just like any other sport – golf, tennis, whatever. I can’t say it’s the fastest growin’ [sport] but it’s growin!'”
The man who said that does not have the use of his left hand – too many snake bites.
And they used to think runners were strange.