Bullfight

I went to a bullfight yesterday. Oh yes, I did.

Saturday night The Mister and I were hanging around, getting ready to meet friends for dinner, when we started talking about things we hadn't done in Spain. Seeing a bullfight was pretty high up on the list, and we both remembered walking past lots of posters in the past few days advertising a bullfight in our local ring on Sunday. Hmm, we thought -- destiny?

And so we went, dutifully punching in our ticket to this particular cultural oddity. Now I know this subject can be controversial: there are the "HELLO ANIMAL CRUELTY" people and the "JUST A CULTURAL THING, NOTHING TO SEE HERE FOLKS" people, and I'd say we fall right in between. I didn't grow up on a farm or anything and I'm not around wild animals that much, so I'm not exactly used to seeing something - anything - die right in front of me. Killed right in front of me, let's be honest.

But I suppose the bulls have had nice lives munching grass and frolicking under blue skies and all that, which is far, far nicer than the life of your average American feed-lot guy. I mean have you seen "Food, Inc."? And I still eat cheeseburgers. So, yeah. I suppose I can't get on my high horse and judge. 

Annnnyway, enough philosophizing. For those of you who think this whole thing is terrible, see below: the bull got his comeuppance. Maybe we saw a crappy bullfight or something but I think there were four or five near-gorings, with men in tights and sequins hightailing it as fast as they could with a raging bull in hot pursuit. And one man fell off a horse and narrowly avoided being trampled by both the furious bull and the confused horse. I can't say I felt that sorry for the men - why can't the bull get in the action too? All's fair in love and war.