I generally try to write about nice, relatable things, so what more relatable thing is there this week, the week after Tisha B’Av, than to write about a chasunah I recently went to that featured a mechanical bull? It was set up right next to the tables on the men’s side.

WEDDING GUEST: “What side are you on?”

BULL: “I’m on the men’s side!”

In case you have for some reason never been to a chasunah, I should explain that a mechanical bull is a ride that you get on that is shaped like a bull that is frankly very irritated that you’re on it. Even though you took off your shoes first. So it keeps bucking to throw you off. It also keeps changing angle and speed and even direction, because it’s trying to get you psychologically. Just like a real bull would, if you tried to ride him at a chasunah. But just so you won’t go flying across the wedding hall, there’s a tiny little leather handle on top that’s big enough to hold onto with one hand. You wrap your other hand around that hand, like that’s going to help, as backup in case the first hand gives way.

The bull also had its own area, surrounded by a moonwalk and a soft inflatable fence. And anyway, no one actually gets thrown, apparently. Everyone just falls straight down, usually in slow motion, with their legs still clenched. Like they’re sitting straight, and then for a few seconds, they’re sitting so that their upper body is parallel to the ground, and then they keep sliding so that they’re basically straddling the bull upside down.

I did find this whole thing a little strange, but then I figured that every chasunah is the same after a while, except for the chosson and kallah, I guess, so why not get a mechanical bull? Make it exciting for everyone! Except the great-grandparents.

The way I heard it, this particular chosson worked for a party rentals place, so as a joke, he brought along the mechanical bull. Either way, they put it in the men’s section, because the women would have said, “That’s ridiculous.” Whereas the men said, “That’s ridiculous. I can’t leave before trying it.”

I really did not want to try it, but something told me that if I did, it would be three articles. There would be the pants-splitting article, the losing-everything-in-my-pockets article, and the back-pain article. I had in fact been looking for a topic for after the Nine Days, and when Hashem throws something like this in your lap unexpectedly, at a wedding, you don’t say, “No, my back is gonna hurt.” You just do it. Otherwise, Hashem might say, “Find your own topics from now on. ‘Oh, my back might hurt.’ What do you think humor topics ARE?”

I mean, there’s only one way for this ride to end, and that is to fall off. It’s not like you can beat the game. It’s not like a real bull, where you could eventually tire it out or hurt its back enough that it stops bucking. This thing is plugged in. The only way to win is to stay on until the attendants need to leave.

Also, I’m scared of bulls. I’ve been learning Bava Kama with my various kids for three years straight now, and shor is the first damager listed. Which toldah is throwing someone off, again?

On the other hand, I don’t know what I’m scared of. In the old days, people used to do this all the time, until they figured out that it’s easier to ride horses. But back then, even when you bought a new horse, the entire way home from the dealership it would be trying to knock you off. You have to get the animal used to you. Nowadays, a new car doesn’t buck, unless you have a manual transmission you don’t know how to use. And even then it can’t really throw you off, unless it’s a convertible.

Also, real cowboys kept their shoes on, I think. It wasn’t all socks out there in the West. I’m also not sure cowboys had to sign waivers. Because we had to sign a waiver to get on this thing. I’ve never had to sign a waiver at a wedding before. Wait, what was that thing I signed at my wedding?

So I sat down and watched it for a while, passing the time by eating the seudah. Somebody at my table said that they should have put it behind a mechitzah, because the more you watch people ride it, the less you want to go on. Also, they should’ve served liquor.

Nevertheless, I decided to go. I couldn’t just say, “You know what? I’ll do this at the next chasunah.” Also, there were also several members of Hatzalah in attendance, two of whom told me I had to go on it. If someone from Hatzalah tells you that you have to do something, I think you have to do it. They’re medical professionals.

I actually asked a guy who went before me if he had any tips, and he said no. Thanks. He clearly wanted to see me fall off. So I gave him a video device so that I could see it, too.

In all, I lasted for about 15 seconds. This might not seem like a lot to you, but the bull and I both felt like it was enough. And the good news is that I didn’t hurt my back in the end. Just my neck and shoulder. The one attached to the arm that was holding me on. And I, like a genius, had to pick my dominant arm. But you know what? It’s fine. When your neck and shoulder hurt, you just tell people that it hurts, and they say, “I know. You just turned your whole body to tell me that.” If your back hurts, you have to be carried out of the wedding hall by some of the same people who told you to try it.

Mordechai Schmutter is a freelance writer and a humor columnist for Hamodia and other magazines. He has also published eight books and does stand-up comedy. You can contact him at [email protected].