CP on Facebook


CP on Twitter
Print Email

Mr. Wrong

Go For the Giant Cans of Import Beer.

Hi ho, if you went to the Preakness at Pimlico on Saturday I hope you had a good time and made some money, or at least had a good time. Personally and no offense, I never go to the Preakness, the “Middle Jewel” of the “Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing” (as in horses), because I like my gambling to be mostly about gambling, and not about paying extra dough to park my car (so I can go inside to Pimlico and gamble) and extra dough to get in (to gamble my money), and extra dough to get a seat (when I need a rest from gambling), you know? I’m depositing enough cash up in here at “Old Hilltop” without needing to get sucked into some Special Event circus-type atmosphere with special cocktails and a fucking band, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want a band when I am gambling, how am I gonna hear myself lose? At the track all I need to hear is the bugle, or trumpet, or whatever it is, doing the thing that reminds you it is time to get a bet down. Bep bep bep bep bep-bep-bep bep bep-bep-bep bep bep bep bep bwaaaaaaaaaaah! You feel me? It is now Post Time! Hiyo! Let’s go box an Exacta or something!

All that stuff at the Preakness with the Infield Party and drunkness and etcetera, I have no problem with any of that, I just don’t want to be part of it when I am involved in the science of Pari-mutuel Wagering, you know? You want to go to a thing with Pitbull, and it happens to be happening in the middle of a racetrack, in the middle of the Middle Jewel, fine, go to that thing.

What I like to do so as not to subject myself to a track full of individuals who might not even know but mostly don’t seem to care there is a horse race happening is to go the day before the Preakness, because there’s more people at the track, which means more action, owing to the principles of pari-mutuel wagering, wherein you have a pool of money contributed to by you and errbody betting against you. It’s very democratic or something, I think. Plus: Math.

The Friday before the Preakness is also known as “Black-Eyed Susan Day,” where they have a race called the Black-Eyed Susan Stakes and people drink the Black-Eyed Susan cocktail, which is made out of some Sponsoring Alcohol, and there are guys walking around with big racks of them already made, hollering they have them for sale, otherwise I don’t think anybody drinks too much Black-Eyed Susan, ever, no offense. Personally, I go for the giant cans of Import beer, I mean, you are a captive drinking audience at the track so the markup is already crazy, so you might as well go Import since you’re paying more anyway.

But it’s all good, or at least it was, because now they (and you know who They are) have turned that “Black-Eyed Susan Day” of horse racing into a Special Event thing, and now you have to pay more money to get in, and they started charging extra to stand outside down near the rail where I like to stand, in the stretch, but this year I had to go and stand in fucking Siberia, all the way down by the 1/8 pole, which meant I had a longer walk to get back to the betting window between races, which totally fucked up my rhythm, wageringwise, which is what I choose to attribute as the cause of the losses I suffered, financially, on “Black-Eyed Susan Day.” Meanwhile, there was a worthy charitable event going on, and Her Honor the Mayor of Baltimore was making a speech, and she was wearing a big festive hat, because many ladies do that around Preakness and “Black-Eyed Susan Day,” they wear big festive hats at the track. I’m reasonably sure it was the Mayor. I couldn’t really see too well because I was watching on one of the fuzzy extra big-screens they put up so people like me who only paid five bucks to get in (as opposed to $15 and up) could see the tote board and some video, but all I could see was this giant hat going up and down like a muppet, I couldn’t see any head under the hat, just this big brim with some kinda twisted-up bow on the top bobbing up and down on some shoulders. I’m not trying to make fun of the Mayor here, I voted for her, and I can’t see anybody else being Mayor for a long time, probably not until Mosby decides to take a shot at it, but anyway, maybe it was Jumbo Value Import Beer Number Three giving me slurred hearing, but I couldn’t really make out what the Mayor was saying, because since the “Black-Eyed Susan Day” is now a Big Deal, they had a band playing that day, the Goo Goo Dolls or whatever, and whoever was working the sound decided that they would test out the bass drums while the mayor was making her speech, so it was like, the mayor: Blah-blah speechy-speech speech, and then, drums on the stage where the goo goo dolls are playing: BOM BOM BOMBOBMBOM BOOM BOOM BOMBOMBOMBOMBBOMBBBB and meanwhile I’m trying to concentrate on my Daily Racing Form, you know?

All I’m saying here is there are lots of better times to go to the track. There’s only nine more days of live racing left at Pimlico this year, but there’s a few “Fan Fridays” left, which means free parking and free admission and cheap regular beer, which means more money to blow on the ponies! I’m officially done with the Friday before Preakness as a low-impact way to enjoy the effects of the Preakness crowd at the track, and next year I will be there the Thursday before Preakness, until they decide to make that special. Hi ho.

We welcome user discussion on our site, under the following guidelines:

To comment you must first create a profile and sign-in with a verified DISQUS account or social network ID. Sign up here.

Comments in violation of the rules will be denied, and repeat violators will be banned. Please help police the community by flagging offensive comments for our moderators to review. By posting a comment, you agree to our full terms and conditions. Click here to read terms and conditions.
comments powered by Disqus