Ivan McClellan

And I saw old men just sitting stoically on their horses, and they had precise Stetsons and trim mustaches, pinky rings, and their shirts were so starched you could hear them crunch when they moved their arms.

And the women, bedazzled from head to toe, bedazzled hats, bedazzled shirts with fringe, bedazzled jeans, and they had long braids and acrylic nails.

And they were settling down these muscular quarter horses that they were going to be riding 40 miles per hour in the barrel race later that afternoon.

Like, I couldn't have fit in any less.

I was wearing khakis and wingtips.

But I felt so welcomed by this group of people.

Everybody was so eager to share a smile, let me take their photo, and share their story.

I met a man named Robert Criff.

Robert had this leather raisin of a face, and he had this beautiful horse named Summertime.

He pulled on her reins, and she put her legs down on the ground like she was bowing.

It was so elegant.

And he shook my hand.

He had these 12-grit sandpaper hands.

Mine almost started to bleed because I've got dragonfly wings for hands from working in tech for so long.

And he offered me a bottle of water, which I desperately needed at this point because I'm like soaking wet.

He's not a bead of sweat on his face.

In fact, nobody else at the rodeo was sweating at all.

And I looked like I had just gotten baptized.

So he was wearing a Kansas City hat.

So I said, where are you from?