I made it to the second leg of horseracing's Triple Crown on Saturday. For the uninitiated, the three most prestigious races in the US are the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes. Luckily, the Preakness Stakes is held at Baltimore's Pimlico race track, and amounts to one of the biggest parties I've ever been to, seen or heard of in this country.
The amusing thing about the race is that the vast majority of "racegoers" barely see a horse. Most of the 115,000 people there sit on the infield, a large lawn surrounded by the oval race track. There are a handful of proper people who sit in the grandstand, a less expensive, more civilized location to view the race. Unsurprisingly, I found myself on the infield along with some friends of mine. A smaller crowd this year for my people (last year we were almost 10), but that didn't keep the revelry small. The five of us arrived at the gates about 8:15 ayem, where there was already a line of college kids with beers in hand, waiting to get into the track. (While there is a heavy police presence at Preakness, it's one of the remaining places in the U.S. where the police recognize that it's not a sensible use of their manpower to enforce this country's absurd 21-year old drinking laws). The crowd at Preakness is quite a collection: college kids, rural rednecks, urban trash, and pathetic professionals who are in a state of denial about what's appropriate for their age. The sole thing that unites these disparate groups is the desire to spend all day outside drinking bad American swill and gambling on the ponies. (Note to the blogosphere: National Bohemian is alive and well, and still thriving in Baltimore).
The reason to get there early is that you need to stake out your area for your group (I mean that literally - you bring stakes and either twine or yellow caution tape). Of course, as the day goes on, people encroach further and further into your territory as more and more people get there (and get more and more intoxicated). After staking your ground, lather up with sunscreen, wrap you cold one in a can coozie, buy a program, and get to the betting window. There are 13 races throughout the day (the 12th race is the actual Preakness Stakes), and minimum bet is two bucks. Win some, lose some, drink some, and try to hold your bladder as long as you can. When the weather is nice (and it was beautiful yesterday), it's absolutely one of the most fun annual events on the eastern seaboard.
Afleet Alex was the winner, by the way. And no, I didn't win on that race, but lost less than a 20 spot for the entire day, which is within my budget.
As these types of things go, however, getting a cab from Pimlico is a nightmare, and our cab driver was an abrasive hack who ran up the meter by insisting on engaging traffic filled roads and avoiding the interstate - which resulted in my friend telling the cabbie to pull over in the middle of the Baltimore ghetto to toss his cookies. Where, inconveniently and unbeknownst to us, his Blackberry/telephone slipped from his pocket. Needless to say, later driving through the 'hood in B'more searching for a vomit spot in hopes to find a rather expensive electronic device was not the preferred way to spend my Saturday evening, but we did find it (and it was working even if it'd been run over a few times).
And check out my photos if you like - but the Baltimore Sun and Washington Post have some nicer ones of the day.
