“I got twenty, yup, twenty, thank you, sir! Now thirty, and thirty! Now forty, forty, and fifty…”
Dan McGowan’s voice rose and fell in that distinctive auctioneer’s cadence, words tumbling over each other so fast they became almost rhythmic, a verbal rollercoaster that carried the packed room along with it.
Every seat was filled at the Windsor Bar Saturday night, leaving patrons spilling into walkways and squeezing past one another with drinks in both hands. After a two-hour delay due to a computer glitch, the bettors’ auction, or Calcutta, for Skijoring the Big Rock had begun.
