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murakoziWups. I'd said 7:30 for the train in yesterday's post. It was really 8:30.
The day started with a trip to the state capitol building for the Governor's Breakfast. The breakfast is a Derby day thing and is open to the public. Big tents, a buffet, balloon rides. We went over to pick up some more people from our group, including two of the folks I'd had dinner with the night before, then headed on over to the capital grounds. At the capital we stopped at a roadblock set up by the state police and were told emergency vehicles only beyond that point. The response was to hold up a badge and say "Secretary X's party" to which the reply was "Yes sir, plenty of parking just up ahead on the right." Park and immediately two golf carts arrive to shuttle us off to the breakfast. As Mel Brooks said: It's good to be the king.
A quick bite in the tent and it was back to the car and a drive down to the train tracks. The Governor's Derby Train is a special fancy train that CSX runs.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derechodragon can almost surely give plenty more information about it than I can. We got our nametags, showed our tickets (I'll upload pics of those eventually) and climbed aboard for a long slow ride to Louisville. We plonked ourselves down in one of the dining cars and grabbed some more breakfast. The cooking/food/bartending was all done by students at a culinary school and it was all first rate stuff. I ate grits again (mm...garlic cheesy grits) for the first time in ages and actually LIKED 'em. I guess it just goes to show that it's all in how the food is prepared.
The train ride was really very nice, with views of farms and plenty of horses along the way. The others in the group had been out the day before to visit some breeding farms and even got to meet Smarty Jones, last year's Derby winner, at 3 chimneys. It must be nice being retired at 4 years old. He stands stud there and apparently lays around in his stall or the pasture when not 'working.' "Oh..wake me in an hour and bring me a mare..." Lucky horse.
The first swag of the day was distributed on the ride up. CSX workers came through the cars with large trays stacked with some decent compact binoculars (with the new Kentucky slogan/logo on 'em) and passed them out to everyone. That was followed by candy, including bourbon balls of course, in some rather clever little containers that also bore the logo. Racing forms and pens followed soon after.
Having been instructed byderechodragon to check out the last car in the train, I made my way back there. Wow. The back half of that car is made up of some very comfortable benches set up like theater seating. They face the rear of the car, which is one huge window. One of the CSX employees said they had strict instructions to watch for anyone along the tracks who might throw rocks. If they saw anyone, they were to tell one of the plainclothes state police on board, who would call in a helicopter. The window apparently cost $85,000 and they didn't want it damaged. The car had better sound insulation than the others, so it was quiet in there, and the motions of the train seemed much gentler. I could've spent hours sitting there, watching the train tracks and scenery moving away behind the train. Above the window were gauges showing the speed of the train and the temperature and such outside. There were also a couple crt's and a plasma panel that was showing instructions on how to read racing forms.
We finally arrived in Louisville. The train was late, but not terribly so. We all shuffled off the train and were guided onto 5 chartered buses. Consumable swag was passed out in the form of bottles of water with the state's unbridled logo on the label as well as some Kentucky lapel pins. Everyone loaded up and the convoy made its way, with local and state police escort, to Churchill Downs.
Talk about crowds. Wow. So many people crowding around in the streets and lots around the track. We got off the bus and it was a short walk to enter the grounds. Before leaving for the morning, we tossed our cameras and such, and later the binoculars, into a blue backpack just to keep things easier to carry. I ended up with the backpack and that's caused a minor delay getting in. The others walked on in, getting cursory purse and camera bag checks, but I got stopped. Can't bring that pack in here. No backpacks allowed. Everything has to be in a clear bag. Great. By now the rest of the group was a dozen or more yards away. Dunno how I did it, but I talked the trooper and his sergeant into letting me in with the bag. Being in Secretary X's party and not being snotty helped, I'm sure. I caught up with the group and got to meet Deborah, our off-and-on guide for the day.
Deborah showed us around a bit. We fought our way through the throngs to go places most folk don't get to go. I just wish we'd had time to visit the stables. As it was, the timing was right for basically following a race from start to finish. We entered the paddock as the horses for the 5th race came out. Now anyone at the track can go up to the fence at the paddock for a look and there was a huge mob there. We didn't stop at the fence, though and soon there I was, standing in the middle of the paddock at Churchill Downs alongside the owners and the press, watching the horses paraded to the stalls to be saddled and mounted. This was like a dream come true, being close enough that I could've reached out and touched any of the horses as they passed by. It really did drive home just how young the horses are. At 3 years old they're basically the equivalent of 16 year old humans and it shows. The crowd and cameras and such on Derby day is new to them and many of them were teetering on the edge between surprise/curiosity and outright spooking. As the horses left, we followed 'em to the track and stood at the rail for the 5th race. Right there, on the rail. Now that's a view when those guys came racing by to the finish. After the race we followed 'em back in a ways, but then diverted and saw some of the little trackside lounges for the owners, then off to the VIP area.
There was a downside to being in this group. It pretty much requires socializing and small talk with a lot of political types and rich folk you'd normally not be at all interested in being around. Growing up as an Army brat, I did my share of formal dinners and such and, while I hate that kind of high society small talk stuff, I can survive it. It was boring but no biggy to be introduced to this person and that and rattle off the usual responses. In the big VIP area, Deborah led us past the unbelievable buffet, past the 3 private betting windows and such, to point out a couple things. Being with my dad's fiance, we stopped at a lot of tables on the way for her to do the required hellos and handshakes. At one point we were at a table and two men stood up. The first was some random senator I hadn't heard of. I rattled off some generic protocol response and turned as my dad said "...and this is my son, Pete..." A vaguely familiar looking man in a salmon colored sport coat and pants, with matching tie took my hand and shook it as I heard the words "Pete, this is Senator Lott" Lott. As in Trent Lott. Mr. I-coined-the-Nuclear-Option-Phrase Trent Lott. I don't mind folks with political views that don't match my own (Heck the KY governor is a really nice guy) but there are some I want nothing to do with. Can't go being hostile or even neutral though, when it'd likely mess things up for my dad and his fiance, so I sucked it up and smiled and said what an honor it was meeting the guy. He said something about his son and polo or some such. I just nodded and made the appropriate interested noises. The group moved on and I wished I had a pot of boiling bleach to stick my right hand in.
Deborah let us loose and we headed down to the box. It was 2 rows p from the rail, right at the finish line. We caught race 7, talked horses, and some of us placed our bets for race 10, the Derby. I got my first mint julep ever from the vendor going by. After all these years, I can finally drink bourbon again. It wasn't bad, though I'm told it was weak. Even so, my stomach was getting empty again and I don't have the highest alcohol tolerance. My little sister and her husband were at the track, too. They were bringing my brother in law's parents there since his mother had always wanted to see the Derby. After a few tries I was able to call her on my cell phone. The cell nodes were horribly overloaded, especially Verizon's. My phone's display kept changing from service to extended service, to no service, to every other possible thing it could say. Erf. But I did get through and met up with 'em. We hit the gift shop, ambled around a bit and yakked. They snagged another julep vendor and I was handed another one. I'd only planned on having one, but here I was with another. This one was far stronger than the first and I was getting a bit of a buzz as we walked and talked and spent money. They were hungry and I knew I needed to get some food in my stomach instead of just alcohol. While in line, waiting to get something to eat, I got called. Back to the box, now! I said 'bye' to my sister and her family and scooted off as ordered. Deborah was back and it was time for a trip up to the exclusive Millionaire's club on the 6th floor.
We arrived on the 6th floor, which was all air conditioning, nice carpets and fancy fixtures. Deborah got us past the security at the door and into the club we went. The millionaire's club is a large room with assorted tables and monitors everywhere showing race information and private betting windows/terminals. One wall is all windows and a couple doors that lead out to the 6th level stands for a really nice view of the whole track. Being hungry, I was disappointed to see that the buffet tables were empty but for some biscuits. I managed to get one of those at least. We went onto the stands so some pictures of group members could be taken. It was then that I realized that Deborah was not only our guide, but also our minder. I asked her where the restrooms were and they were outside the club. Poor Deborah had to wait out there so I could be escorted back in. Fortunately, a couple others needed 'to go' so she wasn't babysitting just me.
Back down to the box. It was time for the 10th race. There was no way Deborah could get us inside the paddock for this one. That would've been really cool. We watched the post parade, discussed our bets and waited. The traditional singing of Old Kentucky Home started...then stopped...then started...then stopped. The sound system was hosed apparently. You know the governor was probably yelling right about then that heads were gonna roll.
And they were off. 20 horses came running up and flew past, heading for the first turn. There's nothing quite so beautiful as running horses, and these guys were built and bred for nothing but running. They disappeared around the turn and we watched on the big screens as they made their way around the track, yelling and shouting and cheering 'em on. It wasn't long before they came around the final turn into the stretch. The crowd went insane, standing and shouting, some cursing as those ponies started to make their moves. And then it was over. The winner had come in at 50:1 and I had a blurry pic of him crossing the finish line that I'd taken by just holding the digital camera over my head and releasing the shutter while hopin for the best. I'll upload that tonight, hopefully.
We were supposed to be back at the buses for the ride back to the trains soon, so folks went quickly to the betting windows to claim any winnings. I'd placed 4 bets. Two that flat out lost, one that won (Bet #12 for show and that's where he came in) and one weird complicated bet that'd been recommended by Scott at dinner the night before. I don't even know how that one worked, I'd just written down what he said to do and rattled it off to the agent when I placed the bet. I'm glad I did. The show-bet paid a whopping $4.60 from the $2 bet. I wasn't sure whether I'd actually won anything on that complicated bet, so I just handed in the ticket. The display showed my total winnings: $53.80. Whatever that fourth bet was, it'd paid off nice, that's for sure.
Next time, the train ride back.
The day started with a trip to the state capitol building for the Governor's Breakfast. The breakfast is a Derby day thing and is open to the public. Big tents, a buffet, balloon rides. We went over to pick up some more people from our group, including two of the folks I'd had dinner with the night before, then headed on over to the capital grounds. At the capital we stopped at a roadblock set up by the state police and were told emergency vehicles only beyond that point. The response was to hold up a badge and say "Secretary X's party" to which the reply was "Yes sir, plenty of parking just up ahead on the right." Park and immediately two golf carts arrive to shuttle us off to the breakfast. As Mel Brooks said: It's good to be the king.
A quick bite in the tent and it was back to the car and a drive down to the train tracks. The Governor's Derby Train is a special fancy train that CSX runs.
derechodragon can almost surely give plenty more information about it than I can. We got our nametags, showed our tickets (I'll upload pics of those eventually) and climbed aboard for a long slow ride to Louisville. We plonked ourselves down in one of the dining cars and grabbed some more breakfast. The cooking/food/bartending was all done by students at a culinary school and it was all first rate stuff. I ate grits again (mm...garlic cheesy grits) for the first time in ages and actually LIKED 'em. I guess it just goes to show that it's all in how the food is prepared.The train ride was really very nice, with views of farms and plenty of horses along the way. The others in the group had been out the day before to visit some breeding farms and even got to meet Smarty Jones, last year's Derby winner, at 3 chimneys. It must be nice being retired at 4 years old. He stands stud there and apparently lays around in his stall or the pasture when not 'working.' "Oh..wake me in an hour and bring me a mare..." Lucky horse.
The first swag of the day was distributed on the ride up. CSX workers came through the cars with large trays stacked with some decent compact binoculars (with the new Kentucky slogan/logo on 'em) and passed them out to everyone. That was followed by candy, including bourbon balls of course, in some rather clever little containers that also bore the logo. Racing forms and pens followed soon after.
Having been instructed by
derechodragon to check out the last car in the train, I made my way back there. Wow. The back half of that car is made up of some very comfortable benches set up like theater seating. They face the rear of the car, which is one huge window. One of the CSX employees said they had strict instructions to watch for anyone along the tracks who might throw rocks. If they saw anyone, they were to tell one of the plainclothes state police on board, who would call in a helicopter. The window apparently cost $85,000 and they didn't want it damaged. The car had better sound insulation than the others, so it was quiet in there, and the motions of the train seemed much gentler. I could've spent hours sitting there, watching the train tracks and scenery moving away behind the train. Above the window were gauges showing the speed of the train and the temperature and such outside. There were also a couple crt's and a plasma panel that was showing instructions on how to read racing forms.We finally arrived in Louisville. The train was late, but not terribly so. We all shuffled off the train and were guided onto 5 chartered buses. Consumable swag was passed out in the form of bottles of water with the state's unbridled logo on the label as well as some Kentucky lapel pins. Everyone loaded up and the convoy made its way, with local and state police escort, to Churchill Downs.
Talk about crowds. Wow. So many people crowding around in the streets and lots around the track. We got off the bus and it was a short walk to enter the grounds. Before leaving for the morning, we tossed our cameras and such, and later the binoculars, into a blue backpack just to keep things easier to carry. I ended up with the backpack and that's caused a minor delay getting in. The others walked on in, getting cursory purse and camera bag checks, but I got stopped. Can't bring that pack in here. No backpacks allowed. Everything has to be in a clear bag. Great. By now the rest of the group was a dozen or more yards away. Dunno how I did it, but I talked the trooper and his sergeant into letting me in with the bag. Being in Secretary X's party and not being snotty helped, I'm sure. I caught up with the group and got to meet Deborah, our off-and-on guide for the day.
Deborah showed us around a bit. We fought our way through the throngs to go places most folk don't get to go. I just wish we'd had time to visit the stables. As it was, the timing was right for basically following a race from start to finish. We entered the paddock as the horses for the 5th race came out. Now anyone at the track can go up to the fence at the paddock for a look and there was a huge mob there. We didn't stop at the fence, though and soon there I was, standing in the middle of the paddock at Churchill Downs alongside the owners and the press, watching the horses paraded to the stalls to be saddled and mounted. This was like a dream come true, being close enough that I could've reached out and touched any of the horses as they passed by. It really did drive home just how young the horses are. At 3 years old they're basically the equivalent of 16 year old humans and it shows. The crowd and cameras and such on Derby day is new to them and many of them were teetering on the edge between surprise/curiosity and outright spooking. As the horses left, we followed 'em to the track and stood at the rail for the 5th race. Right there, on the rail. Now that's a view when those guys came racing by to the finish. After the race we followed 'em back in a ways, but then diverted and saw some of the little trackside lounges for the owners, then off to the VIP area.
There was a downside to being in this group. It pretty much requires socializing and small talk with a lot of political types and rich folk you'd normally not be at all interested in being around. Growing up as an Army brat, I did my share of formal dinners and such and, while I hate that kind of high society small talk stuff, I can survive it. It was boring but no biggy to be introduced to this person and that and rattle off the usual responses. In the big VIP area, Deborah led us past the unbelievable buffet, past the 3 private betting windows and such, to point out a couple things. Being with my dad's fiance, we stopped at a lot of tables on the way for her to do the required hellos and handshakes. At one point we were at a table and two men stood up. The first was some random senator I hadn't heard of. I rattled off some generic protocol response and turned as my dad said "...and this is my son, Pete..." A vaguely familiar looking man in a salmon colored sport coat and pants, with matching tie took my hand and shook it as I heard the words "Pete, this is Senator Lott" Lott. As in Trent Lott. Mr. I-coined-the-Nuclear-Option-Phrase Trent Lott. I don't mind folks with political views that don't match my own (Heck the KY governor is a really nice guy) but there are some I want nothing to do with. Can't go being hostile or even neutral though, when it'd likely mess things up for my dad and his fiance, so I sucked it up and smiled and said what an honor it was meeting the guy. He said something about his son and polo or some such. I just nodded and made the appropriate interested noises. The group moved on and I wished I had a pot of boiling bleach to stick my right hand in.
Deborah let us loose and we headed down to the box. It was 2 rows p from the rail, right at the finish line. We caught race 7, talked horses, and some of us placed our bets for race 10, the Derby. I got my first mint julep ever from the vendor going by. After all these years, I can finally drink bourbon again. It wasn't bad, though I'm told it was weak. Even so, my stomach was getting empty again and I don't have the highest alcohol tolerance. My little sister and her husband were at the track, too. They were bringing my brother in law's parents there since his mother had always wanted to see the Derby. After a few tries I was able to call her on my cell phone. The cell nodes were horribly overloaded, especially Verizon's. My phone's display kept changing from service to extended service, to no service, to every other possible thing it could say. Erf. But I did get through and met up with 'em. We hit the gift shop, ambled around a bit and yakked. They snagged another julep vendor and I was handed another one. I'd only planned on having one, but here I was with another. This one was far stronger than the first and I was getting a bit of a buzz as we walked and talked and spent money. They were hungry and I knew I needed to get some food in my stomach instead of just alcohol. While in line, waiting to get something to eat, I got called. Back to the box, now! I said 'bye' to my sister and her family and scooted off as ordered. Deborah was back and it was time for a trip up to the exclusive Millionaire's club on the 6th floor.
We arrived on the 6th floor, which was all air conditioning, nice carpets and fancy fixtures. Deborah got us past the security at the door and into the club we went. The millionaire's club is a large room with assorted tables and monitors everywhere showing race information and private betting windows/terminals. One wall is all windows and a couple doors that lead out to the 6th level stands for a really nice view of the whole track. Being hungry, I was disappointed to see that the buffet tables were empty but for some biscuits. I managed to get one of those at least. We went onto the stands so some pictures of group members could be taken. It was then that I realized that Deborah was not only our guide, but also our minder. I asked her where the restrooms were and they were outside the club. Poor Deborah had to wait out there so I could be escorted back in. Fortunately, a couple others needed 'to go' so she wasn't babysitting just me.
Back down to the box. It was time for the 10th race. There was no way Deborah could get us inside the paddock for this one. That would've been really cool. We watched the post parade, discussed our bets and waited. The traditional singing of Old Kentucky Home started...then stopped...then started...then stopped. The sound system was hosed apparently. You know the governor was probably yelling right about then that heads were gonna roll.
And they were off. 20 horses came running up and flew past, heading for the first turn. There's nothing quite so beautiful as running horses, and these guys were built and bred for nothing but running. They disappeared around the turn and we watched on the big screens as they made their way around the track, yelling and shouting and cheering 'em on. It wasn't long before they came around the final turn into the stretch. The crowd went insane, standing and shouting, some cursing as those ponies started to make their moves. And then it was over. The winner had come in at 50:1 and I had a blurry pic of him crossing the finish line that I'd taken by just holding the digital camera over my head and releasing the shutter while hopin for the best. I'll upload that tonight, hopefully.
We were supposed to be back at the buses for the ride back to the trains soon, so folks went quickly to the betting windows to claim any winnings. I'd placed 4 bets. Two that flat out lost, one that won (Bet #12 for show and that's where he came in) and one weird complicated bet that'd been recommended by Scott at dinner the night before. I don't even know how that one worked, I'd just written down what he said to do and rattled it off to the agent when I placed the bet. I'm glad I did. The show-bet paid a whopping $4.60 from the $2 bet. I wasn't sure whether I'd actually won anything on that complicated bet, so I just handed in the ticket. The display showed my total winnings: $53.80. Whatever that fourth bet was, it'd paid off nice, that's for sure.
Next time, the train ride back.