stampede hazards

Our fair city turns into a 10 day rawkus raising, shit-disturbing, mardi gras-esque party during July. As many people look forward to it as those who dread it. Stampede is undoubtedly, a time where getting completely wasted, or being completely shitfaced at any time of the day is somehow acceptable (and for no reason whatsoever, which makes it far superior to Xmas). As are many things that wouldn’t be accepted hors de la ‘pede. I have decided to list some hazards that might befall a new (or seasoned), Stampede goer, in order to improve on this year’s performance and perhaps prevent some mishaps next year. In no particular order:

Poma: This is a pancake induced coma. You can literally eat a pancake at all hours of the day, everyday. They even have an app for this (flapjack finder).

Regrettable photos: Yes, it’s quite like Halloween, you pretty much have a license to dress like a slut. I’m convinced this influences behaviour slightly (nothing at all to do with the copious amounts of booze). You might think it would be awesome to slide around a poll (a common installation in bars in this town), kiss another girl, pose provocatively, flash your gazungas, shotgun/kegstand/chug beers, whilst your bits are half covered and you have sloppy drunk face. Start un-tagging yourself now.

UDI’s: These are unidentified drunken injuries. Most gals end up looking like domestic abuse victims by the end of it. A tip: flip flops are never acceptable drinking footwear. Especially when everyone else is boot stompin’ around in their cowboy boots. Just give in, dress like a cowgirl, wear those boots out. Your tootsies (and your shins) will thank you. This precaution, however, doesn’t prevent random hand burns, scratches, accidental head butts, flying elbows, or the like. Just drink that pain away.

Unsightly hair/skin: Cowboy hats don’t just add to the atmosphere, they shield your face and scalp from the burning sun that always befalls us during Stampede. Even if you think you’ll be inside some dirty tent drinking all day/night, you never know. Plus, it hides sweaty, yucky hair that you inevitably get after two-stepping yourself into a stupor.

Beer goggles: Of course, this could befall you anytime of the year. But Stampede has a more dubious aspect—hoards of men/boys dressed like cowboys. And cowboys are hot—the real ones at least. Have you seen the cowboy you are making out with in his normal duds, without his hat on? He could be bald and wear sweatpants all the time. Ugh. Of course, you may love ‘em and leave him standing on the dance floor. Then you’ll never have to know. No harm no foul. There are no rules during Stampede.

Dating: Just don’t do it. You will inevitably make out with someone else (in front of him or not), not return his texts, regret he showed up at the same bar as you because you just spotted a hot barn hand/cowboy/bull rider—real or faux (*see Beer goggles above); and it’s all over. Unless it’s a long term relationship, break it off before stampede. You will both benefit.

Regrettable texts/phone calls: Yes, this could happen at any time of the year/day/month. But more likely to happen during stampede and more likely to happen with increased frequency. Cause you might be feeling guilty, or horny, or lovey, or angry with somebody and why not have the instant gratification of letting them know right away. However, this could turn into a longer term habit during stampede, lasting several days and the prolonged effect can increase the inevitable after stampede guilt spiral (*see Dating to avoid this).

Getting lost: Even if you don’t know where you live, Taxi drivers most likely do. Just flash your license, or mumble the area and point vaguely. They’re used to it, call it an occupational hazard. If you get separated from your group, most likely you can take up with some randoms if you don’t feel like going home, they’re too drunk to know you’re not Jill.

Gut rot: Burgers, coleslaw, deep fried mac and cheese, beef on a bun, pancakes, corndogs, burgers, pizza, burgers, macaroni salad, pancakes, beef on a stick, beef jerky, sausages, burgers, pancakes, deep fried mac and cheese, pizza, burgers, pancakes, bacon. All washed down with beer and cesars. Pretty much the recipe for very bizarre gut happenings like ulcers, acid reflux, diarrhea (aka beer shits), constipation, vomiting and other un-named issues. Yuck—at least everyone is in the same boat.

Extreme exhaustion: Just one more day? You can do it. No matter that you’ve been drinking all day for the last 5 days. With one break in-between the 3 straight days before. Alcoholics do it every day. Therefore, you should be able to. Been up all night getting it on with your own personal cowboy? You’re just lucky! Got the shakes? That’s just withdrawal. Pour yourself a cesar and get back on the bus. Naps? That’s for pussies. Blisters from your boots? Drink that pain away. This is a marathon not a sprint. And guaranteed you will dream about your bed all day for two weeks after it’s all over. If you don’t need to take to it because you’re deathly ill. It’s just the name of the game.