In a trip that was original 7 people, then dropped to 3 until Denise called up to say that she had an interview for an internship and couldn’t go, it ended up with just Val and I going to the 131st Kentucky Derby.
Took Friday off and drove down to her friend Mark’s place in Indiana just over the Kentucky border. Started in with the mint juleps once we got to his place. Then went to a local hangout called Rumor Mill.
Rumor Mill is eclectically decorated. There’s a stuffed coyote, into which mouth someone had perched a bottle of whiskey. Apparently a lot of the other decorations in that place were bought on eBay: a stuffed daschaund dog, a stuffed buffalo on wheels…
After the Rumor Mill, we went downtown to Fourth Street and hung out at the block party. Wouldn’t you know it, I ran into a hasher Shit Happens I know from Charleston, or Charlotte, or some other “C†city. He’s been coming to the derby for the last 37 years, and that he’d told us that he’d be encamped at turn 3 at Churchill Downs.
Next morning, Saturday, the day of the derby, we woke up and tuned in to the TV to see what the weather forecast was going to be. First on the screen was a yahoo who for the past 19 years has been the first person into the infield at Churchill Downs. Next up was Shit Happens. If nothing else, the on-scene interview gave us a good idea of exactly where in the infield he was pitching his shelter.
That Churchill Downs is one crowded place for the derby. Lots of phenomenal looking women all over the place, and lots of hats. The mint juleps there were $8.00 apiece, but then you do get to keep the complimentary (as much as $8.00 is complimentary) glasses.
Wandered around a bit; got lost a bit. Finally meandered over to Shit Happens’ compound and hung out there for the rest of the day. He was set up right on the fence at turn 3. The races are a slow affair; there’s usually at least half an hour to and hour between races. The in-between times were mostly spent drinking the booze that we sneaked in.
A couple of observations: you’d think from watching all that Seabiscuit movie that when the herd of horses come by, it’d be a loud thundering sound of hooves. Not so: the only inkling that the horses were coming were that people started standing up and gawking at the track; you turn yourself around, and get a quick glimpse of the colored silk jerseys the jockey’s wear, and a blur of horses, and it’s silently all over in the span of one second: no sound at all!
All in all, it was a fun time to just do nothing but just party.