That Rodeo sho' was crackalackin'

If it weren't for the roid raging bus driver,  the excessive charm (and surprisingly good dance moves) of one, Turner (but Jules kept calling him Tyrone), the ride we hitched with a random stranger, the crack heads whose apartment we borrowed to use the bathroom, and finally the disappearance of Michelle - it would have been an otherwise boring night.  Thanks, Rodeo Cookoff - we can always count on you for mayhem.