It's a cold, drizzly, dreary afternoon. We wait on our friend, Andy, at the RV and then the three of us head out to Pimlico in Andy's car. We decided to not take the RV because (a) we're not all that excited about horse racing, and (b) we heard that Preakness fans could get a bit rowdy and we didn't want the RV to get trashed. Keep it simple, get out there for the race, and then back for some rest before the upcoming World Series of Poker.
We arrived just after 3pm and started looking for a parking spot. "Yo, you lookin' for a spot?" a guy from the corner called out. We affirmed. "Come on, now. I'll take you to the spot. Follow me." And he started walking us through his neighborhood. "Come on now, skootch over and let me in. I'm tired, been working the streets all morning." And with little protest, we allow him in the backseat with Rafe. A minute later, we're parked in his yard, pay him $10, and set off through the mud to the track.
We're ticketless, and our plan is to get in as cheaply as possible. We hadn't quite decided to go infield or grandstand, figuring the inspiration would strike us sooner or later.
As we arrived at the gates, we were completely overwhelmed by the amount of garbage, beer cans, plastic coolers, lawn chairs, and crap strewn all over the place. The front and sides of the building looked like a dump. All the trash there was muddy, rain soaked, and had just a hint of a bad odor. All of it looked like it came from the infield.
So, we decided to "grandstand" it. We purchased $15 tickets at the gate, and walked right in. Unfortunately, we didn't realize that those tickets only entitled you to get to the betting window, not to watch the race. Unfazed, we searched for a loophole in security, also known as a "lazy guard." Within minutes, we had identified the most likely guard to let us slip past, and soon enough, we're trackside, just in time for the eighth race.
The first thing we noticed, is the lack of pageantry associated with the race. While the Kentucky Derby was big hats, people dressed to the nines, and a real sense of history, this could have been any race track in the world on any random Saturday. And even though this was the 128th running of the race, we just wanted to say "Well, who really cares?"
Of course, there were some subtle things that make the Preakness the Preakness. The first, which we were quick to order, is called the Black Eyed Susan. A concoction of fruit juice and rum, it was quite sweet and drinkable. The funny thing is, no one we talked to had a clue what exactly was in it! At the Derby, of course, the competing Mint Julep is the pride and joy of all the fans, and any one of a hundred thousand people can tell you exactly what's in it and how it's made. Not so with the Susan.
Another noticeable tradition is called the Black Eyed Susan. No, not the drink this time, but the flower. Women wear the daisy/sunflower looking thing in their hats. But, not enough people were participating for it to be any big deal.
With the big race nearly three hours away, we settled in for some gambling action. Luckily, Andy saw fit to bring a deck of cards. Now, Andy, a former member of the fabled MIT blackjack team, is no slouch card player. In fact, he's been earning a pretty good living doing the gambling thing for the last ten years or more. He's an expert at all types of games, including Blackjack (of course), poker, rummy, and Chinese poker. We started off at Chinese, seeing that is a game well suited to sitting on your ass during a horse race.
Phil and Andy were playing $40 a point, Rafe and Andy $20 a point. Rafe still wouldn't play Phil, as the ban on gambling continues. This would be all about Andy. Phil starts off strong, winning the first three hands. Rafe, meanwhile, is clearly stuggling. The ninth race starts and finishes without us even bothering to watch, and by the middle of the tenth race, Phil is up nearly $1200 while Rafe is stuck $200. Andy is clearly on tilt, but being the consummate professional that he is, he keeps his cool and does what any gambler would do at this point: ask to double the stakes.
Phil, confident, and on a rush that could be the best of his life, agrees. And promptly loses the next 7 hands in a row, leaving him only up $400. Meanwhile, Rafe manages to draw somewhat closer to even.
With Phil on mega-tilt, we head to the betting cage to put down our wager on the final race, the Preakness. We all agree that there is only one horse in the field with a name worth wager on, the 5-1 shot "Senor Swinger." We put down our $20 and Phil decides to go big on Peace Rules, based on what he thought was an informed opinion by Mark Haines of CNBC's Squawk Box: "Peace Rules is the horse to beat next week" he said, along with the fact that he had predicted Funny Cide at the Derby. Just as Phil was about to put the bet in, Andy said he'd take the action himself (i.e. cut out the racetrack from the bet) and try to get even. OK, buddy, you're on!
We then proceeded back to our seats past the same lazy security guard. Only this time, a guard inside the compound asked us for our tickets. Of course, we didn't have one. "Well, you guys have to get out of here." We moved about 100 feet down the grandstands and found some empty seats. At least we thought they were empty. "Hey, what are you guys doing?" a tall, thirty something woman slurred from behind a Black Eyed Susan.
Well, that caught the attention of an usher, who quickly came to kick us out. Only, by this time, the girl had caught a glimpse of Phil's eyes and changed her mind: "They're with us, it's OK," she said. A few minutes later her group decides "beat traffic" just before the final race. Yes, sports fans, the Preakness is a Major Sporting Event. They generously gave us their tickets in case we were hassled by security any more. Our $15 passes turned magically into $75 a piece, just past the start line, about 6 rows back.
After the mandatory trumpets, the horses loaded into the starting gate. The #5 horse had plenty of problems getting in there, and we had a good look at them as they loaded. Seconds later, "And they're off!"
Peace Rules took the early lead, and for quite some time on the backstretch, it looked as if Phil would win his bet against Andy. But, funny enough, that wasn't going to happen. Funny Cide, the winner of the Derby, came up strong from the outside and ran so fast it looked as if the jockey were shocking him with an electric prod! Funny Cide on the outside, Funny Cide in the lead, Funny Cide by 3 lengths, Funny Cide the winner!
Andy was even, the triple crown is well in play, and we fought our way out of the building and back towards to car. Now, we know that our fans are disappointed that we didn't venture into the infield to find out about the party. We understand it is our job to find out about these parties. But, we swear, if you saw the people coming out of the infield after the race, you'd understand. Not a single person came out that wasn't caked, head to toe, in a ridiculous amount of mud. Nasty mud, smelly mud, mud fused with Schlitz Malt Liquor, mud drenched in ketchup and mustard and little bits of discarded hotdog. Absolutely disgusting, and to be honest, for once we were happy to have skipped the party.
With the least major of the Majors complete, we headed back to the RV to pack for the upcoming World Series of Poker and get a good night's sleep. Yes, it's Saturday night, yes we're in a college town, but damn it, you'll just have to believe that we stayed in and rested. This is the first Saturday night since the tour began that we haven't been out partying like rock stars - and it'll probably be the last.
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