Saturday, July 31, 2010
First Horse Ride
And yet, there are people afraid of them; and I'm going to get racist here. Inner city blacks are afraid of horses; deathly afraid. I went through treatment with these thugs that would shoot you as much as look at you and they could not walk up to a horse. They cried and begged not to be near the horse.
Okay, let me explain the situation. Part of our alcohol treatment was equestrian. We were tasked to lead horses around to accomplish some menial task; I psychological test, sort of get your mind out of the way and do what's in front of you. All the inner city black guys couldn't fucking walk up to the horse. I swear, their shorts got brown. They were excused. To this day, I do not understand the connection.
However, in Mexico, I rode my first horse...and it was amazing. This was before Alison M. and I were married. We were on vacation in Puerto Vallarta. There was a boating trip to some remote area that we found interesting. I don't remember the name of it, but it was remote. Although being part of the mainland, you had to get to it by boat...it was that remote. I didn't even realize how remote it was until I took flight.
I was drunk (go figure) and chose to para-sail. They strapped me up and hooked me to a rope connected to a small boat. Before I knew it, I was yanked up 100 feet above the ocean, and climbing. The salt-air was blowing in my face and all fear of heights had instantly gone away...I was too high to care. Then, I looked around, and found the beauty of Mexico. The sky was clear; I could see for miles. I'm not talk a few miles...I'm talking all of them. I mean I could see the curvature of the Earth. It was so cool.
And then a calm came over me...all fear of heights gone. And I started to look around. I look back towards the shore...and all I saw, for miles and miles, was trees...beautiful fucking trees. And then I knew why we had to take a boat trip here. There's just no other way to get here.
Then I look down. Twenty dolphins swimming just under me, in clear blue water. And they were directly below me too...how weird is that? It was so sweeet! I'll never forget that experience.
So, I landed and Alison chickened out. But, we then rode up the the falls.
We have to ride horses up to these falls. They are on cliffs and are very dangerous. Alison rode a donkey and rode a horse. Before we mounted, she notices the fucking three foot long dong on this mule...I've never seen a dick so long. I guess he was in heat.
I'm getting off my story. The man that gave me the horse told me he is, "a little wild". So, I used all my readings about horses to try to control him...which was little: squeeze the leg, pull the rains, talk to it. He didn't listen. I feared for my life. We walked up those cliffs near far drop offs. I gave my fear over to his ability to navigate those cliffs. He knew what he was doing; I'm sure he'd done it a dozen times before.
It was the ride down that was fun. I think he sensed that I was a control freak. When we finally got to the clearing, I'd squeezed my legs against his chest, whipped his rains, and yelled, "Charge!". It was like what he was waiting for all day long. That fucking bronco heaved up and started to run. I've never felt so much muscle between my legs (and I'm saying that in a gay sense.)
But, I remembered my training. Be in sync with the horse. So, as his ups and downs came, I adjusted...and we rode. I'm not talking just riding, he wanted to run fast. So we ran fast, and I just leaned into it. And I kept calling, "Yah, yah", and he fucking took off like a rocket. It was like him and I were one.
I can understand why people own horses...they're beautiful animals.
I wish I was back on that beach. Those people live so much simpler lives than us. They're happy.
I miss that beach.
-- Without Wax