A few weeks into my European vacation found me back with my friends again in a German Beer-Garden. It was late in the afternoon, and we were pretty bored with sitting around chatting. Things were especially tedious for my new friend Blake and his sister, Scott, who had joined us in Germany for a few weeks from the states. As neither of them spoke any German, their diversions were limited to me and my sister, Tanja, and the collection of beer and pretzels. There was a bit of a buzz going around, and we were told that the gang was heading out to "scare horses". We had no idea what they meant by this, but as this was a rural area of Bavaria, we figured it was some strange local custom. In my mind I thought of college kids back in Iowa who liked to tip cows over while they slept, so I guessed this was a local version of that. In my semi-inebriated state, anything sounded like fun. As we walked along towards a barnyard, I was more thoroughly explained the situation. I understand German well, far better than I speak, so I was fairly confident in my understanding of what was to come. I explained to Blake, my American comrade, what was in store for us. The deal was that one of the group belonged to a club that reenacts ancient Roman battles. They dress up in the Roman military garb, and pretend to fight other clubs. The Roman clubs were invited to participate in a parade, and they wanted to have their commander lead on horseback. The rider was concerned about the horse being spooked by the noisy Roman legions, so it was our job to "scare the horse". By dressing up as the Roman soldiers, and marching around, the horse would get used to the idea after awhile. Blake and I agreed that this sounded cool and we'd go along. Playing soldier appeals to most boys, and today's game was complete with terrific costumes! We approached the pen, where a woman was riding the beautiful white horse. My German pals were already in the game, battle ready with shields and spears. We were handed each a full, heavy Roman shield, and we climbed over the fence in to the pen. Zak, the group leader, was a robust young volunteer fireman and enjoyed such physical endeavors. Horst, was a giant robust young farmer who owned the horse and was the chief "Roman". Then there was Hans, the butcher's son who looked quite frail and uncertain between the two athletes. He had a comical habit of letting out a short yodel whenever he was nervous. Blake and I were the average of the three, not strapping, but not tiny, either. Together we looked like a formidable legion. We took our positions in a straight line facing the horse. With our shields in front of us, we were a human wall, ready to do battle. Zak looked at me, and demonstrated how to put your shoulder into the shield and hold your ground. He kept emphasizing how to dig in, how to ward off an attack. Hans let out a yodel. I was confused, and none of Zak's instruction made any sense to me. I was completely baffled, before I could ask any questions the rider suddenly rode the horse straight into us! My mind raced, and as the adrenaline rushed, everything became a slow-motion nightmare. My entire field of vision was consumed with the wild, crazed look in the horses eyes and his flaring, snorting, pink nostrils. Thick, foamy saliva dripped past as the horse chomped wildly at the bit, like some angry demon from the depths of hell. I could smell his hot breath on me as I was bounced back like a pin-ball. Wide-eyed and in a daze I stumbled back on to my feet. "Hold your ground!" Zak kept shouting at me as the horse came in again. Before I could react I was once more being ricochet off of the horse's chest on to the ground. I looked over at Blake, who's eyes were as big as mine with fright. Not understanding the commands being shouted at us, his experience had to be even more terrifying! "Is this a sane? Is this a sane thing to do?" he yelped, as if he were the only one not understanding what was going on. I knew exactly what he was thinking, that because we were "city boys" from another land that we just didn't understand local customs, like this was just some sort of strange culture clash. "Hell no! This is nuts!" I offered as the horse smashed into us again, Hans' now constant yodeling adding to the surrealness of the moment. The once mighty human wall was now in a shambles. The spears had all been ripped from our grasp, and laid scattered around on the ground. WHile Blake and I were thrown around, poor little Hans was virtually catapulted with each impact. Horst, who was in sandals, now had a cut on his foot that was bleeding profusely. Despite this injury, this stout Bavarian was still in full form. Zak, who was actually bitten by the now quite agitated horse and also bleeding, was in his element. He was clearly showing off his bravery and zeal for the crowd who had gathered to witness this lunacy. While the local boys were proving their manhood to prospective mates, Blake and I were just pale babbling foreigners doing nothing for the rustic American male image. "I'm on vacation!" I yelled in English, knowing no one would understand. "I hate horses!" I explained as I passed by Blake, who like me was now in a crazed panic, running around in circles, tripping over spears and other debris. "So why in the hell am I wrestling horses on my vacation?!" I shouted to my sister at the sidelines as I sprinted past. After voicing my feelings about the situation I threw down my shield, and broke for the fence. Right behind me was Blake, elated to be free of his shield and bounding for freedom. "I am so happy you did that!" he said to me as we grabbed for the wooden railing. "I wanted to quit so bad but didn't want to be the only one!" "Screw that crap!" I offered, as we scrambled over the fence and joined the amused spectators. Our sisters were laughing hysterically at their cowering brothers, but were sympathetic to our urban sensibilities. "I can't believe you lasted as long as you did!" said my sister Tanja, who I am convinced knew exactly what was going to happen to us. "Oh sure. This was all some plot to scare the bejeezus out of us! 'Hey, Look at the city boys!' Great! And you were in on it!" I insinuated. "Well I can assure you that is the last time that me and farm animals will be seen together for the amusement of others!" Blake and I high-fived each other, and watched the battle from our safe vantage point. Soon Hans made his escape, and eventually, everyone else tired of the game. The horse, to, was noticeably fatigued, and hopefully "scared straight"! Blake and I went back to the wonderfully benign world of the beer garden. We both decided that "Scaring horses" was something only the locals could appreciate. At least we had a great story to tell back home, if anyone could possibly believe our equine antics!