Good Qualities, Life Skills

At the end of fourth grade, my last year in elementary school, my teacher made us each take out a blank piece of paper and write our names on it. We were to pass this piece of paper around to everyone in the class, and we would write down one good quality about that person. Things like 'athletic', 'pretty', and 'cool'. I assume the intent was to boost our collective self-esteem before we were shipped off to the summer, followed by the great undiscovered hardships of middle school. When I got my sheet back, the two overwhelming responses were 'funny' and 'smart'. It was around that time that I set my sights on becoming a professional rodeo clown.

For the rest of my scholastic career, I was a completely normal kid, aside from being somewhat exceptionally "funny" and "smart", of course. The only difference between me and the other kids was that they all aspired to be businessmen or astronauts or doctors or whatever it is kids envision themselves being when they grow up and I wanted to put on makeup and colorful clothing and and prance around in front of a half-wild animal. Cowboys are considered the pinnacle of American ruggedness, and I would be their savior with my zany antics and quick instincts.

My parents couldn't understand it. I was a well-off asian living in a picturesque suburban community in New Jersey, receiving a top-notch education. My parents had worked hard to get me there. They gave me a head start in life, and they expected me to make good on it. They treated my dream like a childish fantasy, even though I still talked about it through high school. The matter became more serious, however, when it came time to apply to colleges.

My grades were excellent; my teachers loved me. My guidance counselor informed me that these things would undoubtedly lead me to the college of my choice. And this, of course, was important if I ever wanted to be the best person I could be. I received applications and scholarships in the mail from places I had never heard of before. My parents dedicated a basket to the accumulating pile, and eventually two.

Of course, I applied to schools; I had no choice. I couldn't see myself at any of them. I spent my nights driving around aimlessly in my car, listening to country music and longing for the open plain. One day in March, shortly before I would receive word from my prospective schools, I left.

As I rode the bus to Texas, the houses and the pavement condensed into the single road on which I was traveling. I slept on the dirt at night under a sky that grew ever clearer as I continued, until finally I was sleeping in the Lone Star State, in a motel in the town of Mesquite, the rodeo capital of Texas.

I found work quickly in the rodeo-crazed town, and soon found success, despite my rather non-traditional upbringing. There were many times when I feared for my life, but I found my life more thrilling than I ever had. I gained enough clout to make suggestions to the manager of my small rodeo, and even manged to turn one of those suggestions into reality. Ours was the only rodeo act that featured a trampoline.

Eventually the time had come to introduce my innovation. I watched a cowboy give a good effort on an indifferent bull, managing to last mere seconds before being tossed dangerously away. He landed awkwardly, and was clearly injured. I jumped into the pit, along with a few of my colleagues. I did a cartwheel and flailed my arms like a crazy man, managing to attract the animal's attention, while drawing a laugh from the crowd. The bull reared its head and prepared to charge. I sprinted full speed away from it. The bull gave chase, despite the best efforts of the other rodeo clowns. Running along the outside of the ring, I thought quickly, and began frantically shouted my manager's name.

"Harry! The trampoline! Harry! Harry!!!" Between screaming and sprinting, I felt that my lungs would soon burst. I was beginning to panic, and the bull was beginning to draw near. Just as I could imagine it breathing down my shirt and impaling me on one of its horns, my salvation dropped a few yards before me. I dashed toward the trampoline, and with what felt like my last breath, left the ground, bounced off the trampoline, and headed skyward, out of the pit of the beast.