Once upon a time I met some other Eurail pass holders in another part of Spain and we all decided to jump on a train the next day to go to the running of the bu

Once upon a time I met some other Eurail pass holders in another part of Spain and we all decided to jump on a train the next day to go to the running of the bulls. This particular summer preceded universal access to the internet by many summers, so it turned out that our information was a little off, and we got to Pamplona a full day early. But there was a huge festival and we just joined the San Fermin crowd. And ... one of the scariest experiences of my life was being in the middle of _thousands_ of revelers, sandwiched like sardines trying to move through the rather narrow streets of Pamplona. The pressure from six different people pushing into me made it hard to breathe, and on several occasions I was lifted off my feet and thought my life would soon end. The shop windows shattering was a hopeful sound, because it represented some pressure being released. Looking back, I think that experience made me decide not to run with the bulls the next day, and as an old fogey I'm glad I made that choice. I was unaware at the time that my grandfather had run with the bulls in the 50s or I surely would have put my life on the line again.