13 JUL 2017: While I took some considerable – if not unexpected – flack from readers a couple of weeks ago for ‘fessing up to being an ‘aficionado’ of bullfighting, I feel obliged to add that the ‘Running of the Bulls’ in Pamplona, Spain, is an event I have never so much as pretended to understand or been tempted to endorse.

I mean, why on earth do usually sane-minded individuals go to all that time, trouble and expense to risk having an angry bull stick its horns in places that can never have a happy outcome. Closing one’s fingers in a car door or hurling yourself off the roof of your garage will assuredly produce equally painful and/or debilitating results for a fraction of the cost.

For non-runners, Pamplona is kind of like NASCAR with horns: The vast majority of spectators are only there in the hopes of seeing a few nasty accidents.

And someone is always ready to oblige. Last week for instance, Chicagoan, Bill Hillmann was one of no fewer than four Americans ‘bulled over’ in Pamplona. As he proudly told AP, “I flew up in the air and landed on my back. I didn’t know I was gored at first, then people started telling me that I was gored and dragged me over to the medics. I pulled down my pants and there was blood.” What fun!

Hillmann then went on to relate that he’s done this for 12 years in a row and how, “I’m probably going to run again tomorrow or the next day. I’m already walking! The first time, I wasn’t walking for a week.” Oh my! Practice makes imperfect it would seem.

Another American, one Jack Capra from California, wasn’t as lucky (if you can call it that) as his compatriot. Capra was skewered in the arm by a bull, dragged for several meters and then savagely trampled: At last report he was hospitalized and still in serious condition.

Nutso or not, every year some half million people, including about 150,000 international visitors flock to the week-long Festival de San Fermin – the running of the bulls official title. Pamplona, is a city of around 200,000, is perennially ranked as having one of the highest standards of living in Spain – presumably the occasional herd of bulls rampaging through the streets makes it stand out from boring, bull-free cities like Barcelona. There are even tour operators like, Running Of The Bulls Travel that specialize in giving visitors more bull for their buck.

A sort of Airbnb mutation – as in ‘AirBullnBalconies’- their website states, “Unless you are brave enough to run, the best way to enjoy the Running of the Bulls is from a private, apartment balcony. We offer various locations along the Bull Run route, from Santo Domingo through Dead Man’s Corner all the way to the Plaza del Toros. Hover far above the crowds or get close enough to smell the bulls below!”

Okay, put me down for “the smell of the bulls” from a balcony at ‘Dead Man’s Corner’ please. Or, hold on a minute … maybe not so fast. Just now looking at the cost, I see that access to “A premium, shared balcony” would run me a cool $300 – per person! That smells like a lot of bull for my pocket.

Tell you what, why don’t you sign me up instead for, “Drinks With a Bullfighter – The Art of Bullfighting’? Sounds right up my Calle and a great value. For just 60 bucks I can “Enjoy an hour-long talk with a drink in hand at a private bullfight museum – a must-see location for true aficionados. Our expert is Alexander Fiske-Harrison, British author, journalist, conservationist and former bull-fighter.”

Hmm? They had me at “drink in hand” but in a sport populated by romantic names like Manolete and El Cordobés, Alexander Fiske-Harrison is not exactly a Central Casting handle for a toreador! I guess for one-fifth the price of standing on a crowded balcony this is what you get – the ‘Eddie the Eagle’ of bullfighting.

Okay, so not withstanding such aspersions, I must confess that a trip to the historic fortress city of Pamplona has been on my Spanish bucket list for a very long time. It will however take place during one of the other 51 weeks of the year when demented tourists aren’t attempting to get trampled to death in the streets while tens of thousands of bloodthirsty spectators cheer on the bulls.

Come to think of it – this really is the antithesis of bullfighting!

Ouch!