Drinking sucks. Almost every person whose ever drank alcohol has drank to the point of contempt for the drug. It's a vicious poison that's destroyed many lives and has been the catalyst for more than a few "lazy Sundays."
Running with the bulls was never some kind of game. I was already conflicted with this being one of the few requirements of having a dream job (big props to Stoke Travel for the opportunity too) and listening to my mother, with the slightest touch of frantic in her voice, tell me to be careful certainly didn't help. It was the afternoon before the opening day of San Fermín, and I was excited, but nervous, but trying not to be nervous, so I told my mother that I wasn't trying to outrun the bulls. As a rule in these situations, you always have to be faster than the slowest person. "Don't worry, mom," I cooed. "I brought my feet shoes!" More on that later.
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