Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
A San Fermín pedimos, por ser nuestro patrón, nos guíe en el encierro dándonos su bendi-
ción
.
Entzun arren San Fermín zu zaitugu patroi, zuzendu gure oinak entzierro hontan otoi
.
VIVA SAN FERMÍN
GORA SAN FERMÍN
“There's no shame in pissing yourself in the next five minutes,” a British man says behind
me.
I laugh and turn.
“I was just thinking the exact same thing.”
“Good luck, man,” he says.
“Good—”
Therocketfiresandthecrowderuptswiththesoundofcarnageyou'dexpectwhenenemy
sides charge each other, but only one of them carries weapons.
Everyone's first move is forward and two guys go down. No one knows what to do but
nearly everyone is looking over their inside shoulder, shuffling their feet with uncertainty. A
few people start to climb. A few others try to move forward and jam themselves under the
wood fences that separate intelligence from stupidity.
Peoplebookitforward.DanpassesafewguysandIdon'tbothertofollowhimdirectly.A
guy to my left goes down and I don't bother to look back over my outside shoulder to see if
he is okay. There is no going back at any time.
Ilook over my inside shoulder to make sure the bulls aren't yet coming, and then look for-
wardtogetmysenseofdirectiononthecoursefiguredout.Istopmovingforwardsoquickly
because I don't want to get to the next turn in the position I currently have in the crowd—I
know I need to move right before the road goes right—always be on the inside. The bulls
come with such force, I've been told, that they cannot turn the corners on the unforgiving
cobblestone and often slip up. You do not want to be between a sliding bull and a brick wall.
But I am afraid to run across the middle of the street. It is only a 10-foot space, but it is a
10-foot space that will soon be occupied by the first pack of bulls.
I keep running forward—fuck—and I'm still on the left side when the turn approaches.
Fuck I need to fucking get across.
I'm on the outside.
I look over my right shoulder, don't see any bulls but the volume is rising, and I sprint
across, dodging people coming up the middle, to the right where people are jammed along
the wall. I start to run past the crowd, then fight the first instinct to keep passing them and
jam myself into them. I throw myself into the wall of other runners—five feet deep against
the wall, moving forward slowly, but I don't get in. I think I am far enough over, but I do not
have anyone protecting me.
