Gold Mine!

You don’t want to read about our travelling and vacationing. I know this ‘for a fact’ (as The Nipper would say). So I’m only going to tell you about the things that …stick out…

Today we went to a gold mine/ghost town/tourist cash sink. They had train rides and carriage rides and a main-street shootout and trail rides. While the Family was off scouting how much train rides were and when they left and how long they were, Yours Truly went and scouted the trail rides. Half an hour for twenty-five bucks; I thought that’d be awesome!

My best friend and I used to go trail riding at least once a week in the summers when we were younger. My aunt owns a ranch, which I used to work on, and I’ve even been on a few cattle drives. I know how to ride a horse. In fact, I know how to saddle and outfit a horse, how to care for the horse, and how much it costs to *own* a horse. I also know the differences between many horse breeds and how to tell them apart at fifty paces.

So I went up to the guy and asked when the trail rides left and whether I could book one.

He said, “well, there’s a height-to-weight ratio. It goes strictly on weight.”

I said, “Okay, when do they leave?”

He looked down the end of his nose at me and said, “You ever rode a horse before?”

I said, “Yep! I’ve ridden lots!”

He leaned back against the post and said, “Like I said. There’s a height-to-weight ratio.”

I said, “Yeah?”

He said, “I don’t think I could get you up on that horse, you bein’ as short as you are.”

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

I returned to the Family and informed them that I am now, officially, Too Fat To Ride Horses.

At least I saved $25.

  5 comments for “Gold Mine!

  1. rilla
    13 February 2010 at 6:12 pm

    Well this pretty much infuriated me. I would have kicked him in the junk, were I you.

  2. cenobyte
    13 February 2010 at 6:13 pm

    I would have too, had my family not all been within eyeshot.

  3. Jenn
    15 February 2010 at 1:34 pm

    Oh. Wow. That’s just….not right. I’m with Rilla, ‘cept rather than Kicking In The Junk, I likely would have burst into noisy, blubbering tears.

  4. cenobyte
    15 February 2010 at 6:26 pm

    I was nowhere near tears.

    I remember walking away, kind of dazed, then stopping in the middle of the street and this is the thought that went through my head:

    Did that guy just tell me I’m too fat to ride his horses? Is that *really* what that guy just said? He *didn’t* say that, did he? No. Well. Maybe. I should go back and ask him. But then I might be late for the train ride. Because if he says ‘yes ma’am, yer too fat to ride my horses’, I’m’a lose my temper, and get hauled out of here in leg irons. And leg irons are difficult to explain on the airplane. Maybe that’s not what he meant. Maybe he’s not that much of a dinkus.

    And by that time, I had resumed walking and was starting to say those things Out Loud, which ends up getting me In Trouble.

    Still.

    Kicking In the Junk would be an option. Bursting Into Tears would not be. Although, something in me giggles at the thought of sitting in the middle of the hot, dusty street with dirt-caked streaks on my face, saying to the “Sherriff”:

    Thuh—thuh—thuh—**SNIRRRRK** the guh-guh-guh-GUY tuh-tuh-told muh-me I’m tuh-tuh-tuh-too fuh-fat tuh-uh-to ruh-ruh-ride h-h-his huh-huh-horse!!!

  5. melistress
    16 February 2010 at 9:33 am

    I spent all day yesterday fuming about this. I couldn’t even comment yesterday I was so mad. I’m still too mad to know what to say other than I am willing to ship you my bazooka with an overnight service if you need it.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

Optimization WordPress Plugins & Solutions by W3 EDGE
%d bloggers like this: