Anyway, I left NYC on Thursday afternoon, arriving in Madrid around 10am on Friday (we won't even discuss how I almost missed my connecting flight from Paris to Madrid -- "oh, of course bus #2 goes to terminal #9 and bus #5 goes to terminal #2).
Thank the sweet Lord Ferrari and Rob were waiting for me at the gate. Five minutes after my arrival, we were in our sweet rental car (no sunroof, no radio, no problem) starting the five hour drive to Pamplona in northern Spain. The drive is pretty sick. Here, Rob driving, Mike.f fiddling with the map, me singing in the backseat.
So, we stop in Burgos for lunch and eat like kings -- three-course style -- for about $7 US each. While in town Mike and Rob picked up pants for Pamplona (I'll get to that in a bit, but for the running, everyone dresses in all white). Anyway, $15 US for these sweet pants -- a steal considering the tag boasts they're all about "Raincoat Time".
We finish up the drive, park the car at the train station and get changed into our sassy white garb...
... and of course roll the lucky dice for good luck. Rolled a 7.
We hung out at the train station for a bit waiting up for Mike.f's friends from Bates who were coming in from Barcelona. Even the trainstation was ported into a discotheque for the festival.
Amazingly, we met up with them no problem. Six of us then piled into our crappy rental car and drove around looking for a parking spot. We were about to settle on this one lot until we saw this caravan of gypsies eyeing us as we stashed our goodies under the seats of the car. We ended up just heading back to the train station and grabbing a bus in town.
Pamplona is sick. We were in town a matter of minutes before we were wandering the streets with the masses, bottles of sangria ($2 US) in hand. Here's Rob explaining our contingency plan for when one of us gets gored in the arse.
Walking the course... this is actually near the beginning, about 50 yards from where they release the bulls. Notice the slope - most of the course is uphill.
This has gotta be around 2am or so, after a few bottles of sangria and a few beers. This one street vendor has a soccer goal set up; 300 pesetas gets you one shot on goal -- score and you win a free bottle of champagne ("from the finest region of Champaigne"). I took this pic a minute before soccer superstar Rob (he coaches the Coast Guard Academy team) sent the ball screaming into the face of this poor sap on the right. Oh man, that sucks.
Hanging out on the steps, right around the corner from where we started the run. Left to right, me, Nate, Steve, Ferrari.
At some point we ended up at this random houseparty. Actually, it was Mike.f's Spanish fluency that talked our way in. ("Mike, ask those girls to come to this party with us").
Rob macking it up with some girl that could barely stand....
... and Ferrari macking with at least one slightly cuter girl....
... and Steve macking it with some meatface. Oh man.
There's nowhere to stay in Pamplona. Well, actually, I'm sure there are hotels and hostels all over the place, but you need to reserve a year in advance (or so says 'Lets Go'). We didn't sleep at all, but if you wanted to pass out, this was pretty much your only option...
... either that or just pass out on the street.
Check it out - 4am and the outdoor discotheque in the middle of the town is still going strong.
Spreading the dball love, international style.
Rob around 5am, right before we switched over to rum and cokes.
Okay, so fast forward about 2 hours. This is pretty much the center of the course around 7:30am. The bulls are less than 200 yards to the right, the bullring is about 500 yards through the streets of Pamplona on the left. To get into the course you need to start queuing up around 6:30 or so. About and hour an later the streets and 'sidelines' are packed with onlookers (check out the balconys - the entire course is lined like this).
When Rob ran last year, he met this guy Joe (yup, this guy here) who's run for the past 17 years. Apparently he missed one year because he got gored in the leg and had to undergo reconstructive surgery. This guy's specialty is scaring the shit out of everyone around him.
So, at 8am they send off the first rocket and open the course for the runners. The place pictured two photos up is where we started and is located right near the first sharp corner (where the bulls wipe out and crash into the fences, crushing anything in their paths). When the rocket goes off, most people move up about 100 yards or so -- just far enough to make it past the second sharp corner (which is actually a lot worse that the first one - it's about an 80 degree angle). This photo is right after that second corner. From here, it's about a 300 yard dash to the bull ring.
I took this photo just as the second rocket went off (signifying the bulls are out the pen and sprinting towards the ring). I wasn't trying to time it with the rocket, in fact actually, I almost shit my pants when the rocket went off and I was out in the street taking stoopid photos as people are running for their lives all around us.
According to CNN, there were more people hurt during this first day of the run this year then there have been in the last 10 years. There were all these rumors of an American tourist getting killed (she actually got gored in the leg). Check out what CNN had to say (make sure to click on their 'Photo Gallery' link)
Needless to say, we pretty much ran as fast as we could into the bullring - beating the bulls into the ring by about 15 seconds. Once all the bulls make it into (and through) the ring (they run all the way through the other side), the crowd has about a minute to rest before they release another round of bulls into the ring (this time with the horns trimmed off). People are then allowed to play matador with the bulls, running around and whacking them with rolled up newspapapers and what not.
Check out the crowd. It's like Russel Crowe, Gladiator-style packed.
And here's all of us, chilling. That kid in the middle is Alex, some random kid we met while queueing up to run (and who we later ran into in San Sebastian).
So, Rob and I danced with the bulls in the ring for a good 45 minutes or so (I slapped one of them 3 times - aw yeah). This is us right afterwards - I haven't slept in 48 hours. Rock.
