It’s listed as one of the top ten rodeos in North America by some travel sites and has been called “the best outdoor rodeo in North America” by my 1970s guidebook. For someone who’s never intended to go to a rodeo, it sure is a surreal experience.
A row of motorcycles 
Horses and carriages on the street
For starters, the town that hosts the festival is called St. Tite. I’ve asked around and it seems it’s really pronounced the naughty way, though I don’t know if it’s real or a prank they pull on visitors. The place only has 3,000 residents but over 600,000 people visit for the two weeks when the festival is held. With that in mind, I’m thoroughly impressed at their effort to find space for all the visitors to park.
The downtown area doesn’t have traffic lights. Instead, about a dozen volunteers direct traffic to make sure bicycles don’t collide with chariots don’t collide with horses don’t collide with cars don’t collide with pedestrians. Yes, horses and chariots are used as regular forms of transportation during the festival, and you shouldn’t be surprised to see bulls being herded across the street either.
The streets are lively. Men, women, and children dressed in chequered shirts tucked into jeans tucked into leather boots spill put onto the road as they make their way to the grandstand. Both inside souvenir shops and outside bars Stetson hats are almost a required piece of attire. Imagine losing a spouse in this crowd – you’d never find them.
head office 
Flag parade
The pandemic has dampened the turnout due to severely reduced capacity and a requirement for all visitors to be vaccinated. Staff check visitors’ vaccination documents and tickets before confiscating their water – just one of the many ways the town makes money off out-of-towners coming for the festival.
Parking is $10 a pop, drinks are $6 each, and raffle tickets are on sale by the carnet. Card payments are only occasionally accepted.
The crowds settle in and vendors scurry away to refill their empty palettes with dozens of cans of beer. Night falls and…
Just as the show begins, the announcer yells, “Bonsoir St. Tite!” On the microphone.
“Bonsoir St. Tite!”
The crowd erupts into a thunderous cheer and stomps their feet on the steel bleachers making it feel as if a stampede had just begun. Green, white, and purple LED spotlights flash with epilepsy-inducing frequency. The whole affair is loud and brash, I felt as if I was being rocked inside a washing machine powered by a monster truck’s engine.
Watching a rider try not to fall off a bucking horse or bull is strangely satisfying. Then there’s watching people leaping onto a moving horse. Then there’s watching calves being caught with a lasso from a moving horse.
Intermission is a tractor cleaning up the dirt accompanied by a thousand French voices singing along to American western music. After intermission, a couple of non-life-threatening actives begin. There’s riding a horse around three barrels in the fastest time, a mascot riding a pickup truck, and then right back into the wild stuff – bull jumping.
Bull-jumping is spectacular. A bull runs wild in the ring while a man dressed in white jumps over the horned bull as it charges at him. Watching staff try to lasso the bull and bring it back out is equally spectacular.
It’s one of the few times this year that I’ve travelled for pleasure and it’s genuinely put a smile on my face. I’m losing myself in the crowd and being anonymous even though I stick out like an Asian in a rodeo – literally.
I enjoyed the show, except it was all in Quebecois French and I’m 99% sure I was 100% of the non-white population there. Everybody wants to be a cowboy, but I’d rather be a gaucho.
