For me, as for most Calgarians, the Stampede is a festival of firsts: my first time on a rollercoaster, my first time hearing the bleat of a goat, my first time wearing a bolo tie. Then, too, there was the first time crowd-surfing, mosh-pitting and shooting a BB gun; the first time getting debilitatingly drunk, heatstroke and fired (in that order). There was the first time meeting a hypnotist, a hoop dancer and a sculptor who didn’t have a day job.