Preakness, Baby

Thirteen years ago I met my husband at Preakness.

Actually it was a few hours before that.  My friend who I was teaching with in MD invited half her town to Preakness and one of the guys was Bill.

My, what a day.

We were patrons of the in-field.  Who would want to be anywhere else?  What?  There’s a horserace happening?  Here?

People raced to stake their territory with crime-scene tape, Fake Oriental rugs (complete with vaccums), lawn chairs, lamps with no where to plug them in, and booze.  Lots and lots of booze. 

Our crew even sported a home-made porta john.  Constructed by our friend Dave. 

Nudity.  Lots and lots of nudity.  The casualness of it (I do have photos, if I only knew how to upload the blasted things onto the site) is what makes it so funny to me.  People milling around as though clothed, with zero inhabitions is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.  And because most people are not nude, the naked ones, acting casual, well it couldn’t be funnier.

No I wasn’t one of them.  Neither was Bill.  Or anyone we were with.  Not that time, anyway.

5 thoughts on “Preakness, Baby

  1. Where’s the other half of your post? With the “our eyes met across the breasts of a 50-year-old augmented woman” part?

    I had no idea Preakness was like this. I always thought it was a snooty kind of upper-echelon muckity-muck thing. Sounds more like a Dead show. (Poor Barbaro, huh? Made me teary reading about him…)

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