he sickness hit me Monday morning. One minute I was typing a happy email and the next I was peering into the toilet, one line of drool stretching to reach the water. I feared the cause - was it food poisoning, flu, salmonella? But more than any of those, I feared I was going to miss James Brown. James Brown -- the hardest-working man in Showbiz, the Godfather of Soul, y'all -- was playing that night at the Texas Rodeo. (The Texas Rodeo? Ooh-ha! The Texas Rodeo. ) At nearly 70 years old, Brown don't exactly got a brand new bag - they say he's used-up, drugged-out. He's a criminal for Chrissakes. And yet who could resist James Brown at the Texas Rodeo? Not this cowgirl.

The Texas Rodeo is one of those ridiculous/fabulous annual events in our Lone Star State. Two years ago, I went with my friend Kate to see KC & the Sunshine Band. We were in front of some old folks who scowled through the first two songs. "Who are these fellahs?" one grumpy old cowboy asked his wife. She shook her head glumly. When Kate and I leapt to our feet at "Get Down Tonight," they hollered at us to sit down. They left after a few more songs, but those who stayed became converts. By the finale, KC had hundreds of men in Ropers doing the caboose to "Shake Your Booty." It was divine.

Afterwards, we wandered through the midway. I tried the Alligator on a Stick. I bought a pink cowboy hat. And in a completely uncharacteristic gesture, I rode the Xtreme, a swiveling death machine from which I have never fully recovered. I never liked the Rodeo growing up; it was embarrassing to think that I lived in a state which prized goats and bullriding over, say, puppy dogs and celebrities. But now the Texas Rodeo has all the pageantry of good kitsch - the overwrought lights of the Midway, the airbrush T-shirts, the poorly stuffed animals, the friendly and toothless carnies.

I'm feeling better today. But I can't help feeling I missed history, somehow. How would the cowboys have responded to "Sex Machine"? How long could James Brown last? And could he endure the Xtreme?