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Thread: The Preakness

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    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    The Preakness

    I realize that this is techincally a sports-related thing, but what I'm going to write about has nothing to do with the horse race whatsoever. It's about what took place on the infield of the Pimlico Race Track on Saturday morning and afternoon.

    For several years, I've been hearing about how the Preakness was one of the craziest events you can attend. This year, I finally decided to go. An old friend of mine from college lives in Baltimore, which is very close to Pimlico.

    We paid $80 for the following deal: Unlimited Bloody Marys and Mimosas and a breakfast buffet from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m., a bus ride to and from the racetrack, a six-pack of beer and a minicooler for the ride to the track, and a ticket to the infield ($50 face value).

    I had my first mimosa at 7:30 a.m. Me and two friends brought two 30-packs of Bud Light and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Needless to say, I was absolutely smashed by noon.

    The infield of the racetrack is like nothing I've ever seen before. First of all, most people don't even care about the races. It's just a gigantic party with tens of thousands of young people getting drunk off their asses. There are girls flashing their boobs every couple of minutes. People were throwing full beer cans as far as they possibly could, so you needed to constantly pay attention, or risk the chance of getting hit in the head with a flying beer can. People were jumping on top of a row of port-o-potties and trying to run from one side to the end. As they were doing this, people were pelting them with beer cans. I drank from an 8-person beer bong/funnel (An "octo-bong", so the speak). Everywhere you looked, there were ridiculously hot, scantily-clad women. Gorups of people are wore matching t-shirts or costumes. Three guys wore speedos, giant sunglasses, and fake giant afro wigs. My favorite t-shirt I saw said "Banging chicks at the Preakness...so easy a caveman could do it!"

    It was sheer and utter pandemonium. Before I knew it, it was 6 p.m. and the main race was about to start. I took all the cash I had in my pocket and bet on the favorite to win. He lost by a nose in a photo finish. I didn't really care, I was too drunk and having too much fun.

    I can't believe I've never gone before. I had so much fun, though, and I can't wait until next year...

  2. #2
    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    Re: The Preakness

    In case you guys want to see video of the "port-o-racing"

    PORT-A-JOHN RACING AT THE PREAKNESS - With Leather

  3. #3
    Basic B*tches

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    Re: The Preakness

    Haha. Sounds intense. You know.. I would have never expected something like this out of horse racing. All I ever see on tv is like those rich, prissy, snobby ass people in weird hats..

  4. #4
    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    Re: The Preakness

    Quote Originally Posted by Blade View Post
    Haha. Sounds intense. You know.. I would have never expected something like this out of horse racing. All I ever see on tv is like those rich, prissy, snobby ass people in weird hats..
    you have to go to the Preakness next year. Trust me. you will love it...

    Here's what MSNBC had to say about it:

    Preakness infield a wild, bawdy scene

    What horse race? Revelers revel in party atmosphere

    Matthew Cavanaugh / EPA
    Revelers party in the infield prior to the 132nd running of the Preakness Stakes.
    View related photos
    Slide show

    Preakness pandemonium
    Check out the action - and fun - at the second leg of the Triple Crown.

    132nd Preakness Stakes
    Curlin tops Street Sense at Preakness | Results
    Brunker: Lost opportunity for losing jockeys
    Street Sense loss extends Triple Crown drought
    Notebook: Hard Spun comes up short again
    Barbaro’s trainer returns, wins race | Images
    Another horse breaks down in early race
    Preakness infield wild, bawdy scene | Images
    25 years later, a star jockey's sad fall
    Discuss: Sound off on horse racing



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    Updated: 5:00 p.m. ET May 19, 2007


    BALTIMORE - There they were: three out-of-shape guys in their 30s at a busy intersection in the middle of the track wearing Speedo bathing suits, black Afro wigs and sunglasses.
    For some reason, dozens of women felt compelled to pose for pictures with them.
    “They look fabulous,” 20-year-old Caroline Hartman said. “This is so cool. They’re so cute!”
    Story continues below ↓
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    A year earlier, the infield revelry was blunted by the breakdown of Barbaro. On this day, there was no indication that memories of that horrific moment were going to deter the tens of thousands in attendance from drinking beer, flirting and, on occasion, betting on a race.
    “It brings out the fun in everybody,” said one of the guys in the scantily clad trio. “It’s all about fun today. If you can’t have fun, why be here?”
    How about to celebrate a pending marriage?
    “This is my bachelor party,” said Stuart Sears, 30, who was wearing an ill-fitting jockey uniform complete with a cap and goggles. The outfit was a gift from his buddy, who bought it online for $50.
    “So far it’s been very good at repelling women,” Sears said.
    Admission to the infield was $55 or $60, depending on when and where the ticket was purchased. The sky was blue, the temperature in the mid-70s and the beer was everywhere, courtesy of Pimlico’s liberal BYOB policy.
    To aid the transport of beer from car to track, boys patrolled the neighborhood with, uh, borrowed shopping carts. There was no shortage of takers for their service.
    By 10:30, 20-year-old Katie Jowers had already knocked off three beers. The University of Maryland junior had never before been to the Preakness, and didn’t seem disappointed about having virtually no chance of seeing an actual horse.
    “Everybody here last year was calling me, telling me how fun it was, so I had to see for myself,” she said.
    Her group set up at 9 a.m., shortly after the gates opened. They had no way of knowing the speakers attached to the nearby betting windows would be blaring at a nearly intolerable volume.
    The lines at the betting windows were far shorter than those at the portable toilets. But not everyone spent the day drinking beer.
    Slide show: Week in Sports Pictures

    Week in Sports Pictures
    Balloon for A-Rod, ‘Sheed soars to score, and more


    Jason Harris came from Cincinnati with his wife. Before the second race, he was busily marking up a newspaper and watching the large TV screen that flashed the latest odds.
    “I’m 1-for-1 so far. Won the trifecta for $101,” he said.
    The couple arrived in Baltimore on Friday night and planned to leave Sunday. It was their fifth Preakness; Harris estimated the cost of the trip at $1,000, but he hoped to make some of it back with winning tickets.
    He went to the Kentucky Derby, too, and said he would attend the Belmont if Street Sense still had a shot at the Triple Crown.
    Harris and his wife were planted in a corner, far from the rapidly swelling infield crowd and about 100 yards from those three guys in their skimpy bathing suits. A teenage girl sipping strawberry daiquiris from a pitcher walked by the three amigos and dropped her mouth.
    “I’m not too impressed,” she said, “but I’m still going to take their picture.”

  5. #5
    Basic B*tches

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    Extreme Rules Re: The Preakness

    Oh man.. hahahaha.. that looks pretty f'n funny. Wow.. Not really that expensive either. It definitely sounds like a plan.

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    Re: The Preakness

    I have absolutely no clue what it is, but I'm there next year.

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    Re: The Preakness

    Where is this at again? Baltimore?

  8. #8
    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    Re: The Preakness

    just outside of baltimore...Pimlico, MD

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    Re: The Preakness

    I stumbled upon another awesome Preakness article...enjoy:

    You Shoulda Been There: Heart of Preakness
    by Kaelan Hollon - 05/24/2005


    Four times now, when someone has asked me about last weekend's attendance in the Preakness Infield, I fall to the floor choking on my own tongue, all spasmodic twitching and itchy hives, and scream out between a torrent of curse words, "Sweet Baby Jesus make it STOOOOOPPPPP!!! IT BURNS! OH GAWD IT BURRRNNNNSSS!"

    This does not go over well at work.

    You see, at least once in their misspent youth, a person should attend the sort of party that makes you question not only your sanity, but moreover whether humanity itself is a fundamentally pointless venture. The sort of get together that allows a man to look a police officer in the eye while he pools urine into the hot green grass at Pimlico Race Course, then retch, puke, and fall face front into his own excrement, raising up one greasy eye long enough to ask the cop whether he'd mind grabbing him another beer. It is a good exorcism of the soul when midgets are playing Kiss cover songs at eight thirty in the morning. Builds character.

    The Baltimore Sun reported Sunday morning that this was one of the most reserved Preakness infield's in recent memory. Upon reading this, I looked around our hotel room the morning after the race and noted the dusty lines on the dresser, the inexplicable strap-on laying on the floor between passed out partygoers, and the gash on my feet that poured blood when I tried to clean it. I attempted to stretch my hand out and grab a warm beer, noting a sprain where I had tackled a man the afternoon prior. Obviously, the Sun's reporter wasn't running with Captain and Johnny Thunderpants.

    I've had a rough adjustment moving from the backwoods of Eastern Kentucky into a DC life of concrete jungles and white-collar blues, and so was ecstatic when Captain and Johnny agreed to take me under their wing and introduce me to the wildest party on the Eastern Seaboard. Seven a.m. and we're booming down the highway with Motley Crue and a pint of Beam, the leopard print steering wheel cover verily growling in anticipation. Captain is in a red and blue lame jockey uniform, and Johnny is wearing his old professional wrestling uniform, which includes leather pants, a sleeveless Harley shirt, and stocking with a cowboy hat. We are still respectively recovering from the night before, where the last I remember was pouring a beer on my head at a downtown DC bar, and Captain left a gorgeous blond naked in bed upon our hasty exit of the District.
    We pull into Pimlico, and a one-eyed veteran in full troop regalia stops our taxi to swing round a giant linen hamper and pick up our coolers. He tips the traffic cop a fiver to let us cross a major highway in peace, and suddenly it is early morning in a sea of people, I am drunk in a crowd of near and perfect strangers, and the prospect of 10 more hours of this seems fraught with potential incarceration.

    But this is a lawless scene -- a beer crowd -- and the cops give me cat-eyed grins when my contraband bottle of vodka falls out of the box holding a kiddie pool. Someone attempted to confiscate my whiskey early on (no glass containers allowed), but with some cajoling and a wicked smile, the door staff allows me to pour it into a dirty cooler, where I tip up the corner and sip from that, ignoring the flecks of Nasty and concentrating on the buzz.

    By 10:30 a.m. we have set up camp and made fast friends with a crew of Jersey college students, and beer pong starts while I meet another Kentucky girl, a foul-mouthed freshman in college who lets the Beam dribble off her chin while we memorialize the Bluegrass state in all its glory. I grew up around horse tracks, chicken fights, barn parties, moonshiners and hill croppers my entire life, but lord, lord, lord Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.

    Preakness is the bastard stepchild of the Triple Crown because it puts on little airs, which is unusual in a horse crowd. Furthermore, very little about the crowd's mentality has anything to do with horses. This is obviously a social event, and heavily local. Very few people who have grown up in the area leave, and college girls greet each other familiarly with bobble-headed screeches, frat boys bumping chests as they scream "TOWSON" across the Infield. Where the Derby has, in recent years, cracked down on the cacophony of lewd behavior in favor of a moderate-to-intense tailgating atmosphere, Preakness rolls with the punches, and two days later, I am still a gawdam twitching mess to show for it.

    Horses, as the gambling crowd is already well-aware of, make us crazy. The whole scene is designed to sink gold-plated claws into a collective conscious and pig gut our 100,000 strong in attendance. And the animals stream by like monstrous angels, a thousand pounds of sweat and muscle that carry our paychecked pride on their backs. Our dreams are in the pocket of an 80-pound jockey in brilliant silks who barely blinks while we scream around the turns as our horse pulls the bend. They are the horsemen of our apocalypse, and "as it is written there is none righteous, no, not one" (Rom 3:10). Millions of dollars on the line, and Black Eyed Susan and Nattie Bo the drink of choice for a 12-hour menagerie of all that is right (wrong) in the world.

    Swaying dangerously into Johnny, suddenly laying down on the turd-stained grass seemed like a fantastic idea by 2:00 p.m., and it was Johnny's huge hands on my shoulder that steadied me in the masses.

    "Pull it together, Kaelan," he leaned down into me, "This is part of the Preakness marathon - You've got to stick this out, rally for the team. If you pass out now, they'll rape you blind and piss on you for the next four hours." I nod, pick up a fifth of vodka and a beer, and alternate shots with guzzles, a violent urge to punch someone becoming a bright goiter in my belly. I look like every other sweet-cheeked college girl here, but fundamental differences in our senses of pride and shame lend me to violent urges to throw a grown man up against and wall and rip his throat out.

    The Thing has turned ugly by 4 p.m., and when girls raise up on the shoulders of their brawny boys and grow shy upon the 2,000 commands to "SHOW YOUR TITS," full cans of beer are hurled at their heads in righteous indignation. Coolers are abandoned like crack babies and left for dead and drought in afternoon sun. I have just been body slammed and covered in beer, and an undercover cop suggests the far left corner of the Infield for narcotics acquisition (not that I asked).

    Captain comes screaming through the crowd with handfuls of cash (the most experienced horse bettor among us), tearing off his jockey costume that has been the pride of six dozen photo ops with big-breasted co-eds. "They turned violent, man," Captain started, freckles glowing in alarm, "Someone called me a jockey maggot, and when I replied with an equally vicious line, they started chasing after me. I can't be seen in costume now -- too dangerous". There is less than an hour to go, and the wail of my liver is now all that is thundering in my ears.

    And suddenly it's over, and I don't even remember the race (what horses?), and I'm bleeding and scared of the crowd, aware of the potential for violence when 115,000 people stand in the sun drinking all day without repercussion from any legal authorities, other than the red-shirted bleary-eyed event staff. Johnny, a huge loggerhead of a man, holds my shoulders to guide me through that long tunnel outside and into the light.

    Our hotel, next to the Lucky 7 Bail Bonds, looms out of the darkness and white shirted angels sing "Glory Hallelujah" in a high falsetto as our taxi pulls up to the curb. Ohhhh, salvation from the dark heart of Preakness. I have fallen asleep on the shoulder of a tow-headed blond financial advisor from Manhattan, who nudges me into our sardine tight hotel room. The water swirls dark brown with mud as I press myself against the bathroom wall fully clothed, attempting to regain composure.

    It is important, when thinking on how horse racing fits into the psyche of a generation, to note the mythological importance of horses: the Biblical plagues were borne into mankind on the backs of horses, who, on the vision of Apostle John, brought the coming of Judgment after which the world sprang anew. I am not a religious person, and seriously doubt the author intended the usage of this passage as a comparison to horse racing, but I've always found the breathless rage of Revelations curiously enticing. As the Horsemen ushered in destruction after each of the Pagan seals were opened by demon-haunted sinners, "The riders wore breastplates the color of fire and of sapphire and of sulphur, and the heads of the horses were like lions' heads, and fire and smoke and sulphur issued from their mouths." (Rev 6:19). I thought of that passage, drilled hard into my head after a lifetime of Southern Christianity, as Afleet Alex turned that last curve and we screamed our youth out into the dark air. Oh, I'd rather gamble than repent, be content in the cloudy sunshine of the universal depravity of lost men, than think on any alternatives.

    There was an 88 million dollar handle at the races on Saturday afternoon, but much, much more at stake than that. The gambling, the horses, the sun, all stripped bare our true inclination to have it all, fast and hard, and as much as possible before we burst at the seams. Damn the torpedoes and bet the mortgage, there's everything to lose whether you're betting or not. The Triple Crown this year will have brought me full circle with every measure of godless plague and self-destructive tendency I've ever been warned about, and as we narrow on the last stretch of turf before that final race, I'd give a final bode of encouragement to my fellow horsemen out there,

    Get Thee to Belmont.
    Last edited by Dr. Giganto; 12-17-2007 at 04:51 PM.

  10. #10
    Love The Hank

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    Re: The Preakness

    Sounds absolutely awesome, wish I was closer.
    The Three Wise Men.


    "A Leader Can't Lead Until He Knows Where He's Going."
    John Locke


    "I always dreamed about ruling the world, but now that I’m getting older I’ll settle for Hollywood."
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    Hank Moody"

  11. #11
    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    Re: The Preakness

    next year I'll bring my camera and take pictures

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    Re: The Preakness

    Record some of the crazier stuff :D
    The Three Wise Men.


    "A Leader Can't Lead Until He Knows Where He's Going."
    John Locke


    "I always dreamed about ruling the world, but now that I’m getting older I’ll settle for Hollywood."
    Ari Gold


    "I won't go down in history, but I will go down on your sister.
    Hank Moody"

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    Re: The Preakness

    Sounds beyond awesome..

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    Stud Muffin
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    Re: The Preakness

    Tom. You'll be happy to know your quote here made the Balitmore Sun.....

    Preakness craziness gains Web immortality -- -- baltimoresun.com


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    The man behind the mask

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    Re: The Preakness

    Congrats Tom. I would have to say that this might be a first (A members's post being published in a major newspaper, and getting WrestlingClique a mention in the meantime!).

  16. #16
    Basic B*tches

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    Re: The Preakness

    Hahaha, how the hell did this happen?


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    Formerly Randy Orton

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    Re: The Preakness

    lol yea that is messed

  18. #18
    Formerly "Tom Dogg"

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    Re: The Preakness

    holy shit!!! That's so awesome!!!

  19. #19
    Why don't you dance?

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    Re: The Preakness

    I'm seriously jealous.

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