Living Like Kings (or Pigs?)

When Matt and I were dating, he once told me, “Stick with me and we’ll live like kings.” I didn’t give it much thought at the time. Periodically through the years, he reminds me of this statement—as if it’s a promise still unfolding.

This weekend, Tretura played at the Oklahoma State Fair. As I trudged toward the band shell in 90-degree heat, I passed a sign that read: Great American Pig Races. That’s when I started to wonder: is this what he meant by “living like kings”?

Great American Pig Races at the Oklahoma County Fair

If so, I clearly should have asked more follow-up questions back then. Does royal living involve a hot, sweaty crowd of humanity cheering for pigs and waiving colored bandanas? Is it sitting in the sun while the band plays and turkey legs drip onto the asphalt, smelling corn dogs and all other fried foods known to man?

My father-in-law likes to say Matt is a great salesman. I’m beginning to think I might have been a sucker. I just assumed his kingdom looked like mine—but apparently, his has more pigs and band shells than thrones and velvet capes.

Either way, the band played a great show. And maybe that’s the kind of kingdom I signed up for—less Buckingham Palace, more Oklahoma State Fair.

Tretura playing the Oklahoma State Fair in Oklahoma City

Thanks for reading The 3rd Flamingo—a blog for art lovers, creative wanderers, and anyone who’s ever made a beautiful mess.