Yesterday Timon and I went horseback riding. Timon was carrying the camera, at least until it flew out of the saddlebag while he was galloping across a field on top of a mountain at 10,000 feet. But luckily as I was flying behind him my horse didn't crush the camera, and so we retained the photos of me grinning like a fool for nearly three hours.
Timon was riding Mr. Ed, and I was on Bandit. Bandit and I had some issues, culminating in him trying to buck me off twice (no, Timon didn't manage a photo of that). But I held on, and managed not to get thrown. When I got Bandit back on all four feet and turned around, our guide, Todd, looked at us and merely said, "You looked like a freakin' Indian riding that thing." I'm not really sure if that was a compliment, or pointing out the lack of skill in controlling my horse, but anyway, a sentence relating me, bucking and Indian is yet another reminder that we ain't in New York City anymore.
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