Running of Fools

Inevitably, if you combine a large crowd of people, with enraged bulls, and alcohol, someone will be hurt, and today at the running of the bulls at the Festival of San Fermin, someone died. Hemingway romanticized this notably foolhardy enterprise a few generations back and since then, international literati have joined the local idiots in trying to show their bravado from a bottle. But then, extreme sports offer little appeal for me. I just am not thrilled by the idea of having a tipsy Ed Ames impersonator throw tomahawks at me or of finding Sicilians to insult gratuitously. I gave up membership in the dart catchers league and I think I'll wait until I turn one hundred to join the first President Bush in jumping out of airplanes. As for me, dressing as a ninja and sprinting on a moonless midnight across an eight-lane super highway is all the excitement I ever need.