Derby Debunck Part 1

A friend of mine is a regional party planner for a major vodka company in the mid west. he told me one Friday evening in April that he was planning an event for the Kentucky Derby. My gayer half Kip was all aghast, as was I, at the idea of sipping mint juleps and betting in the most fabulous attire in Louisville, on the studs. Hoping to become one of those people on the news that win big and forget the little people.

We (and by "we" I mean Kip and his fancy phone.) begin to research what is was going to cost us to go to the Derby, and it turns out...Hotels are stupid pricey! Like $1500 a night stupid. I gave up on the idea, and my gay came through! He suggested that we take his fathers motor home. Perfect!

So many many phone calls later between a gal and her gay over which seer sucker, which hat, what shoes, and then we had to talk about my outfit, and we are off to the Derby.

It was a time of many firsts. My first trip without my husband that didn't include my parents. My first trip with my friend Kip. And my first time in a swanky motor home. (Just to fill you in, this thing was the Cadillac of motor homes! It was 47 feet long. Full kitchen, full bath! Even has ceramic floors! ((Funny how technology has gotten ceramic tile to work in a motor home, and the tile in my bathroom is cracked everywhere!)) This thing is so nice you can take a number 2 while driving!

I slept most the way there on the white leather sofa. We arrive in Louisville KY just in time for the sun to come out. As we enter the motor home park, my friend Kip and I exchange a look that I will never forget. His look was "sweet", and mine was "I hope I'm not raped."

I've never been to a Nascar event, but if I had been, I think it would look like this! It was a proverbial sausage fest! As we pulled in tens upon tens of men without shirts held there beer cozys in admiration to the motor home! They were fascinated at the the size, at the celebrity of the whole thing. Tent after tent and RV after RV, I think I saw 3 woman and probably close to 400 men.

We get into our parking space, and Kip true to his Susie Homemaker form, starts getting out citronella candles, rugs, awnings, and patio lights for the outside of the motor home. I was told to stand there and look pretty. After all was setup, Kip made me a fabulous steak dinner. We got acquainted with the neighbors and got in the shower to begin the parade of derby fashion.

One of the coolest things about Louisville on derby weekend is that as far as I can tell the entire city shuts down for 72 hours, except for the bars. They stay open from Friday to Sunday, and absolutely everyone is a taxi cab. Apparently it is not against the law to give anyone a ride to anywhere, as long as you don't charge a fare. You can however ask for a donation or a "tip". Everywhere you go people ask you if you need a ride.

So we get in our shuttle and are driven downtown to a hotel where we were going to a party. Us and our very drunk neighbor and cab mate from Knoxville jammed out to some hair metal from the 80's, hopes were high, and so was our driver.

Arriving at the hotel we find our friend, and begin on a journey I like to call red carpet denial. We walked from club to club with our friend trying to get into these celebrity clubs and getting very cranky! It seems our vodka friend wasn't as well connected as one may have been lead to believe. I, being under the impression that I would be laying about on white leather couches and fanned by jockeys somewhere, wore four inch Betsy Johnson heels. Block after block we walk and finally get into the Michael Jordan party.

The venue was gorgeous! Must have had 120ft ceilings, and it did have a complimentary bar...of vodka. (I don't drink vodka.. It makes me nuts.) The crowd was very well dressed and the DJ was awful. The food was crappy, and I saw no celebs, unless you count the hookers that entourage for T.O. celebs. Honestly, I had never heard of a T.O. until this night. And still couldn't tell you what he looks like or who the hell he is.

Kip and I spent this part of the night letting our eyes roll in unison, and looking for the door so we could smoke and make fun of everyone. We then went to the playboy party, where there were actually girls dressed like bunnies and tanned like Cheetos. We stood outside with the creme de le creme of worse than B celebs...... rich people. Freaking really rich people. They ooze money and look down at us all the while pretending to like us and buy us drinks. It's an odd feeling and one I'm sure they do on purpose. It's sort of like they are letting you know not to get to comfortable in their world cause you'll be cast away soon. I think I saw a woman reach for Purell in her purse after shaking my hand. I wanted to tell her that friendliness isn't contagious so she need not worry. Needless to say, the party sucked. I once again found a door where I could smell cigarette smoke and told the boys they could find me there.

I found a wirey and very uneven bar stool on the cobblestone in what was pretty much the alley behind the bar with umbrellas and speakers, and sat down for the remainder of the night. Not because I wanted to, but because my feet at this point have swollen to twice their size and no longer have feeling in them. I met a couple of nice people, and asked Kip if he was ready to go several times. I finally discover that he was waiting for last call which never came. I was after five am when we left and I was pooped!

We arrive back at the trailer park...(cough)...motor home village, to find our neighbor dudes still awake, very drunk, and sitting in lawn chairs on the roof of their motor home. Kip, never one to miss and opportunity, invites them into our motor home, where they seemed to camp out in until we left the state. One of these boys was named Brad, and he was from Knoxville TN. He said it best when he said, "Honey we're Southern, if you want us to leave, your gonna have to make it real clear." He was very charming and informed us that he once made his living modeling in Milan. Yes folks....a male model. And funniest part, not the only one I met that weekend!

We drank and laughed till six thirty. Kip made them all food, and they loved it! It was like he was taking care of the dirty boys. Telling them what to wear to the derby, and making sure they ate something etc. I am not a country girl, I hate camping, but I had more fun drinking beer with the boys then cocktails with the important. And I had the Derby day hangover to prove it!