Derby Equations and Observations

The Kentucky Derby was F.U.N.! I haven't had so much fun in a long time. We have a big list of things we want to do differently next time, but all in all, it was quite the time. It's really hard to describe what happens at the Derby. I'm glad we went ahead and did the full ensemble--dresses, hats, shoes, bags, the whole nine yards. I would say approximately 20% of the people in the infield were dressed up. Next year, we'll get box seats and then wander around the infield in between races.

As you can see, the heathens behind us chose not to dress up at all. I wore a slightly darker version of Kentucky Blue, and Director/Buddy wore her "pretty woman" fantasy brown & white polka dot dress. It was fairly entertaining, though, as the day wore on and the drinks kept coming. She let out a massive belch, and I changed the words to "Pretty Woman", which had us laughing 'til we were crying after about four lines: "Pretty Woman/Drinkin' on your beer/Pretty Woman/What's that I hear?"

Other things I noticed:

* Apparently, yelling "HORSIE, HORSIE, HORSIE, RUN HORSIE,RUN!!" is not an appropriate Derby chant. People will stare at you. I don't know where it came from, but that's what I yelled through all ten races. I saw the eleventh race, but only because I needed a time out myself at that point.

* Mint julips = gross. I think if I could've made mine with the good bourbon I have at home to the strength I wanted, it would've been OK. Director/Buddy swallowed two down and had to have a time out.

* Horses coming around the track sound like thunder. You also don't get to see much of them in the infield, but when you do, you should totally yell "Run, horsie, horsie, run!"

* Cigar + sunscreen + port-o-potty + hot dogs = Derby smell. My contacts smelled like horse the next day. Not sure how that happened, considering I wasn't very close to one.

* Sun + booze = DE-Runk. You'll never see it coming until it hits you like a thunderclap between the eyes. At that point, all the horsies look the same, and all their silks start blending in together. It also means, quite embarassingly, that you could just possibly miss out on who actually won the Derby. And that you would have to catch it on the news the next morning.

I bet on Scat Daddy--how can you not bet on a horse named Scat Daddy? That bastard was nowhere to be seen. But I also bet on Dominican (who was also nowhere to be seen) because he reminded me of my winter vacation, and I accidentally bet on Curlin (who made me a little money) instead of Storm in May, because I was *ahem* rather tipsy at that point, and I couldn't read my own racing notes. But between the two of us, we bet on every single horse in the Derby, because I'll be damned if we were going to our first Derby and losing!

Apparently I'm a person who bets on horses because their names have some significance. Not that it helped. I bet on Marina Ballerina in an earlier race, because it was fun to chant when it came around the track: "Ma-rina Ball-er-ina!!" It won me nothing. I bet on A Gentleman Scholar because it was, well, a gentleman scholar. It scratched before the race even started. I bet on a horse named Cougar Cry, because my grade school mascot was the cougar. He crapped out. I looked at the sheet and saw it was a 30-1 shot anyway. Sigh. The best fun was betting on the horse named Pussycat Doll. Again--how can you not bet on that?! But cheering for it was confusing. Instead of horsie-horsie, we both burst simultaneously into "Pussycat Horse! Pussycat Horse! Raowr!!! Run, Pussycat Horse, run!!" People again stared. It won second, so we made some money there.

Oh, and some old man kissed me. It was like a mugging. We were leaving the betting thingy after collecting our winnings, and here he comes charging like some silver back gorilla, and gives me a full kiss on the lips and then takes off, Director/Buddy laughing like a hyena. He must have won, or something. I couldn't even pick him out of a line-up, it happened so fast. Director/Buddy kissed two college boys. I get the drunk old man. I yelled after him, "What, no money?!"

-- Virgil