Go and take the millions
Take the derby hats
And stick'em up your ass
I'll take the cheap seats
For my company don't come served inside a glass --- Houndmouth
Y'all are probably tired of hearing about the Kentucky Derby by now, but you should try living here for a couple decades. Would say this town is obsessed with the horse race, but that's only partially true. Think it's a bit like politics, a solid third are in favor, another third vehemently opposed, and the rest just want the shouting to stop.
Growing up in southeastern Kentucky, the Derby was largely a non-event, NASCAR was about the only racing that concerned us. Moving to Louisville to attend the university, it seemed like that was about all my city kid classmates could talk about. Wanted to go and see what all the fuss was about but couldn't cough up the $50 USD for a ticket to the infield (not even cheap seats, just a grassy field with no view), so I did the next best thing and got a job at the track. Got to see a several runnings of the rosy race, albeit from a different perspective than most.
My first Derby was special, in that unique Derby way. Had gotten good and drunk the night before, after working a 14 hour shift, and proceeded to pass out about an hour before my alarms were set to go off for work. Needless to say, I was a bit late for work on the big day. Like six and a half hours late. Overslept badly enough that by the time I awoke, it was impossible to drive to work and had to walk the mile and a half to the track. Somehow I didn't get fired, but it was the walk to work that stuck with me, like a stroll through some surreal, absurd, drunken carnival. Finally managed to get over my grudge and go back to the track this year with the Nikons to try and capture a little of that magic.
You can tell it's Derby when there's cops hiding behind every bush and overpass. The city's police population just about triples for the first Saturday in May, and the number of car accidents spike similarly. They're not after speeding drivers though, they mostly just lurk until they decide to block the streets. Rumor has it that they're not much more sober than the folks making their way to Churchill Downs, but that's what they call an 'unconfirmed report.'
Unless you've got Important Business, it's best to stay off the roads on Derby Day, you're going nowhere fast anyways. Parked a couple miles from the track and trekked in to avoid the worst of it. Not long after you start encountering the police hither, tither and yon, you'll start noticing clumps and gaggles of similarly attired folks out for a stroll. They're definitely headed to watch the ponies, anyone who isn't is doing their damnedest to avoid setting foot in the area.
Churchill Downs has its own circles of hell horse racing modelled on Dante's, one can usually tell how far they are from the finish line by the activities in their vicinity. When you start seeing the golf carts cruising the sidewalks and side streets, picking up folks on foot and shuttling them towards the track, you know you're halfway to Mint Julep Central. Fun fact, unless you're getting one of the limited edition $1000 mint juleps, your julep is just a premade mix poured straight from the Early Times bottle.
One tradition that dates back to even before Hunter S Thompson's time is yard parking extravaganza. Pretty much the only silver lining to having their lives completely disrupted by the goings-on, folks living near the track turn their yards into impromptu parking lots and compete to lure in drivers as they try to charge as much for it as the market will bear. Covid must have put a hurting on the market, when I was working at the track it wasn't uncommon to see'em asking (and getting) $50-$100 USD.
Aside from accepting Venmo, not much has changed with this bit of neighborhood entrepreneurial spirit in many decades. The 'never mind the tulips' circle of hell is the next to last one you have to traverse before reaching the pearly gates of Parimutuel.
From there it's just a matter of gathering your things and joining the mass migration down Central Avenue.
There, along that fenced off street, is where the true gonzo spirit of Derby shines through. Chaos and absurdity, street preachers and street vendors hawking their wares, as the scent of bourbon and diesel exhaust fills the air.
This final circle can be feisty, gotta watch where you're going.
T-shirts seemingly designed to appeal to the tender sensibilities of the intoxicated.
You know you're in the right place when you see all the smiling faces.
With all the yelling, running, and random drama, the street just outside the track serves as a warmup for when everyone gets inside. Hadn't bothered to try for a last minute press pass, so that was as far as I was going anyways.
Don't ask me for betting tips, ask this guy. It's a good bet this ain't his first horse race. Should probably trot on out of here, but if you're ever in Kentucky in early May and need an excuse for a bourbon bender, you should come check this one out.
