Ever see a table full of middle aged women at a racetrack? I'm talking women who visit a racetrack once every year or two. Today I was in a party of 6 who spent a day betting on the ponies. It's like a field trip for 5 year-olds. The primary focus is on drinks, then a few more drinks, then food, then the horses. Invariably, there's someone who tries really hard to study all the statistics on the racing sheet, despite hearing comments like, "Oh, here's a horse called "Peggy's Kneecap." I know a woman named Peggy. I think I'll bet on that one." And of course, the horse -- a longshot -- wins.
At this racetrack, someone comes around to the dining guests with a handheld machine to take bets. The poor woman who worked in our section eventually made wide detours around our table. Why? Because we'd spend 15 minutes getting information from her about the intricacies of the trifectas and superfectas, then make a $2.40 bet. I couldn't blame her. One of the highlights: We pooled our money for a communal bet (drumroll please) of $24.00. I went with my friend to the betting window (because that horrid woman refused to come near us). She had the script memorized, and I was there for moral support. When she finished, the teller said, "Okay, got it. That's $96.00." My friend's face fell. She looked at me in utter panic. I told the guy, "You have to cancel that, please." He did. Turned out our $2 bet should have been a 50 cent one.
Ahh, the races. The thrill of it all. All we were missing were purple pantsuits and red hats. Shoot me now.
At this racetrack, someone comes around to the dining guests with a handheld machine to take bets. The poor woman who worked in our section eventually made wide detours around our table. Why? Because we'd spend 15 minutes getting information from her about the intricacies of the trifectas and superfectas, then make a $2.40 bet. I couldn't blame her. One of the highlights: We pooled our money for a communal bet (drumroll please) of $24.00. I went with my friend to the betting window (because that horrid woman refused to come near us). She had the script memorized, and I was there for moral support. When she finished, the teller said, "Okay, got it. That's $96.00." My friend's face fell. She looked at me in utter panic. I told the guy, "You have to cancel that, please." He did. Turned out our $2 bet should have been a 50 cent one.
Ahh, the races. The thrill of it all. All we were missing were purple pantsuits and red hats. Shoot me now.
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