Finally got to design my first course, for a little kid's class a couple weeks ago. This time around, I had an entourage of three non-horsey people: My two horse-idiot friends, Tim and Jason, and . . . Shawna. Shawna is my school's resident gangsta girl . Just lately, she's decided that she wants Jason and has basically started stalking him. Jason's scared to death that she and her girls are going to get him alone one day, jump him, and sodomize him, or something. Not because he's a wuss, and not because there's anything wrong with her choice of personal style, but because this girl is TOUGH--for serious. Me and some friends let her play rugby with us once, and while we were trying to be all careful to her, she actually tackled Mark and bit him in the neck! So, when she heard that Jason was coming with me to the training show that weekend, she asked if she could, and it wasn't like I was going to say no and get my ear chewed off or something.
Anyway, I gave her directions, and she met us at the showgrounds, right on time to start hassling Jason. Tim and I head into the ring to start moving jumps, and as soon as "my" course is set up, it's time to let the kids walk it. Suddenly, because I've risen from mere exercise boy to the esteemed position of Course Designer, everyone is now convinced that I know all sorts of mysterious secrets about the course that no one else is aware of, and that I can somehow control the outcome of the class. Two mothers actually ask me if their children can walk the course with me instead of with their trainers. I'm thinking that this must be against all sorts of rules, but I don't think I can say no with them looking at me like that, and anyway, I can't remember. So, the next thing I know, I'm walking from jump to jump, with two little kids and their moms listening in awe as I tell them the same stuff they've always heard: "Umm . . . four strides in this line. Short." "Tight corner. Lots of inside leg, especially you Leah." When we get back, the moms WINK at me, like we're all in on some dark, dirty secret. Then they smirk at all the other parents, like their kids are all set to win, and everyone else might as well go home now.
The first few riders are just fine, and I'm stoked because no one's gotten eliminated at the first fence yet (you know how some of these smaller riders are. One meets his doom, and suddenly everyone else falls apart, too). It's kind of entertaining to listen to the stuff the Society People are telling their kids. One actually says, "Darling, could you PLEASE try not to sweat QUITE so much," like the kid has some kind of internal temperature control that lets him pick. Another has hysterics when her son's pony stops on its way past the stands and pees in front of everybody who is anybody. "Oh, Robert! How could you let him . . . tinkle in front of all these people? I am SO embarrassed!" This appeals to both Tim's and Jason's oh-so-sophisticated senses of humor, and they start laughing so hard that the lady moves chairs. The Arena Queen (Elizabeth)'s brother goes into the ring and sets the world record for the fastest elimination ever, by falling off when his pony spooks at the starting bell. Elizabeth and her mother descend on me, and I can tell that they're dying to bash me in tandem. Too bad! They can't, because my little old course had nothing to do with the kid crashing. So, they settle for complaining about how hot it is, looking at me the whole time, as if this is somehow my fault. I bask in their frustration for a second; then, Elizabeth's mom makes an attempt to pick out all the "mistakes" in my course. I'd like to say something, but I can't yell at someone's mom, no matter how evil she is. So, I try an alternate method: After 17 years with an older brother that's tried to blame anything and everything on me, I have developed the ability to look all bashful and misunderstood on command. Soon, Shawna, of all people, comes to my rescue: To me, she asks, "Chris, are they dissing your art?" Then, she turns her pierced eye on Liz and her mom and says, "Wow, lady, your kid sure can't ride, can he?" I would stick out my tongue at them, but that would be immature. They slink away.
The next kid has entered the ring, and Shawna has dragged Jason off somewhere. Tim is bonding with the dressage instructor, and has made him the subject of the irritating questions he usually saves for me: "Why is that horse over there yelling like that at that other horse? He looks pissed off." "He's a stallion. He's trying to get that mare's attention." "Ahh, cruising for chicks. Okay." Seven people make it into "my" jump-off, and Leah ends up winning the class. Her mother looks at me and smiles, like this is just the way we planned it, right? The other girl's mother doesn't know I'm alive anymore. Come on! Jason materializes, looking all weird, and tells me that he'll wait in the car. Anyway, overall, I'd say everything went over really well.
