Eleven thirty a.m. Derby Day I awake feeling fantastic! (Probably because I am still a little drunk.) Kip yells to the back bedroom, "Oh my God! What time did we go to sleep?"
"Uh....7 ish?"
"No way!"
We both start laughing. Kip raises the blinds and reveals the crappiest Derby day ever! It is raining, it's cold, and it's dark! I wanted to cry.
We decided that a good breakfast and some primping and we would feel different about it. Boy was that a mistake! Kip made breakfast for me and the man Kip will only refer to as "International Male Model Brad". One of the neighbor boys. We had some omlettes with Gruyere cheese, and a lot of rich ingredients, and that did me in. I immediately felt like absolute ass! Hangover in full swing!
I look outside again, and my stomach sinks. First of all, there is no way I am wearing my gorgeous hat and dress in the weather similar to the movie "Cast Away"! Secondly, there is also no way I'm not going! I spent $80.00 on the tickets and we are going to the Derby!
Kip and I both slowly begin getting ready. Then the parks lead toothless meth head on a golf cart, comes by to inform us that the race has been postponed an hour. I lay down till the last possible minute, and see the boys all lining up outside in their seer sucker blue and white suits. They looked adorable. They had cigars hanging out of their mouths, and manners to match. I came out of the motor home in one of my proudest impromptu outfits ever. I won't bore you with the details, but I looked fab...and felt sick.
We all were miserable! We arrive at the Churchill Downs grounds, and begin walking in the rain. And walking. And walking. The downs is full of very loud drunk people. I mean DRUNK! We get cattle prodded into the infield, where as far as I could tell was similar to Mardi Gras on hillbilly heroin at a Garth Brooks benefit for High School kids. It was loud! It was wet! It was muddy! It was the country version of the 1999 Woodstock. It was so not my scene!
Kip helped me search for a bottle of water, that we never found. He wanted something to eat. Couldn't find that either, what we could find is bourbon and beer, and drunk minors. Apparently they don't card anyone Derby weekend. If they were out of the house and could grow arm pit hair, they were drunk. Kip and I look at each other and keep asking one another, "What do you wanna do? I don't know, what do you want to do?"
Finally, I threw in the towel and was the first to say Uncle. I kept looking around and couldn't see the track. Apparently, everyone but me knew that you can't see the track from the infield. Why go see a race you can't see?
So Kip and I walked out. There was also a line to leave! That's how crappy the weather was! We get out of the grounds at the Downs and catch a ride to in our words, "any bar with a TV."
The bar was also loud...loud with good ole country music, loud! It was at the bar that I learned the words and audience participation words to a song called "Why do you Drink"...(audience) "Get Drunk!", "Why do you blow smoke?" (audience) "Get hah!" (That's 'get high' to those of you still speaking English.)
I watched a middle age woman dance a jig bare foot on the bar floor to "Good Old Rocky Top". I couldn't help but think how much she would come to regret that decision the next day. Everyone clapped and hooped and hollered. Finally at 6:30 the race began! 90 seconds and an upset.
I begged Kip to let us go back to the motor home and take a nap. He obliged. After a nap I felt a whole lot better! I told Kip that we came here to look fabulous and sit on white couches and sip cocktails, and that is what we are going to do! Our vodka friend promised us free drinks and fanciness, and we are going to get it! And we did...sort of.
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