On the way to the track from the parking lot (a mosaic of broken glass) a drunk girl ran down the sidewalk, trailing a young man who was failing to restrain her. She was crowing, "Dick-and-balls! Dick-and-balls!" and grabbing the crotch of every man she passed, hard. She passed like a tropical squall.

We bought a program and tried to study the map of the building. I'd had half a mint julep and was dumber than moss. Mary Lea still kept introducing me to her friends and family as "one of the smartest people I know," but I think it was out of pure optimism. Finally a staff member led us to the other, much nicer side of the paddock. Here was another Magic Escalator to Millionaire's Row, and a much better dressed group of people. No one tried to "buy a cigarette" off of us on this side. We had a spot on the rail, just four feet from the horses as they paraded by.

Without a view of the track, we opted to belly up to the railing around the paddock, where the horses are paraded and saddled, for close-up views. We got close-ups of the owners and mostly B-list celebrities, too. I left to use the loo and on my return yelled "Mary Lea!" Not so much to find her as to force the people in front of me to move. Mary Lea raised her hand above the crowd. Some incredibly mean woman planted her feet. "Nope. I've been standing here all day." No you haven't, you stupid cow. "So have we," I said, vague in my astonishment, "I just left to go to the restroom." Then I innocently forged ahead. She backed down, faced with the prospect of having to physically restrain me, which is good, because Mary Lea and I would have pummeled her. There is nothing meaner than a cranky middle-aged woman who thinks someone's stomping on her entitlement. Damn.

We befriended the various other be-hatted young women at the rail. At first they looked at us like we were aliens, then softened up when we made fun of the over-glossed bee-stung lips of one of the teens in the paddock (someone's rich daughter). I mean, she's 17, what's with the collagen? This seemed to scare off the lip-smacking woman standing behind us, who coincidentally also was attached to a pair of over-glossed collagen-puffed lips. I would have felt bad, but the girl in front of me sighed in relief, "Ugh, she was smacking her gum right in my ear."

This page is pix of people. The next page is pix of the horses, the beautiful shiny shiny horses.

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© 2005 JECook, except for Derby logos, which I am borrowing from Churchill Downs