By Lacey Corbett
The Cheyenne Frontier Days: it’s known as the Daddy of ‘em All, and it’s one of the biggest professional rodeos of the summer, much less the entire year. It was also the one big rodeo I had planned to go to that year and I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from it, not even getting stuck at the Denver airport.
My husband, Logan, had entered this rodeo long before it was time to compete. I had planned to fly into Denver from El Paso and meet Logan’s traveling partner Tim O’Connell’s wife, Sami, and their son at the airport. From there, Sami and I would load up our babies and luggage and hitch a ride north to Cheyenne where we would reunite with our husbands after a long summer. Sami and I had been talking about this trip for weeks. We had planned out all of the details, and I was so excited to catch up with her after a summer of phone conversations.
All was going well—until I got that dreaded text telling me my flight had been delayed, then another, then another, and then yet another! Before I knew it, my Denver arrival time had gone from the evening to the wee hours of the morning, while Sami’s flight would arrive at the normal time. There was no way in the world I would ask her to wait for me with her infant child into the midnight hours. I sent her on to Cheyenne, while I scrambled to find another ride to the rodeo. I felt like I was trapped in a Chris LeDoux song. I was in full-on mama-panic mode, coffee in hand and toddler in tow.
To read more pick up a copy of the December 2018 NTFR issue. To subscribe call 940-872-5922.