Yesterday, Saturday, May 17th, saw Big Brown and jockey Kent Desormeaux head to the winner's circle at the 133rd Preakness Stakes. I don't know if you are up on horse-racing, but the Preakness Stakes is held at Pimlico, which is right here in nearby Baltimore (best known for Cal Ripken Jr., The Wire, and crack). When you think about it, readers, is there any sport more majestic, more stately, more regal than horesracing?

After all, horseracing is nothing like sports such as football where enormous genetic freaks pummel each other down after down, or baseball where steroid using batter after steroid using batter swing an aluminum stick at a ball. Those sports are barbaric in the truest sense of the word. But not horseracing! Sure, if a horse falls or breaks a leg, they kill it right there on the track, but they put a tent over it first, people. Classy!

So like I said, yesterday was Preakness, which is a pretty big deal around these parts (achieving a status on par with that of Ron Burgundy in San Diego—Spanish for a "whale's vagina"). Why? Do the students of the University of Maryland, American, Towson, GWU, et. al. have a deep affinity for horses? Are they anxious to show off their race-day bonnets and hats? Nope. The only thing they have a deep affinity for is the Pimlico Infield—well that and Milwaukee's Best Light—and the only thing they are likely to show off is last night's dinner (okay, that's not the only thing, but more on that later).

You may be asking yourself "What is he talking about?" (then again you may be asking yourself "Is San Diego really Spanish for a whale's vagina?!"). Here's the deal: Pimlico sells tickets to the infield during the Preakness Stakes, and students, college kids, recent grads, and village drunkards from the surrounding area flock to the scene as early as 7am to set up camp for a day full of drunken, Dionysus-esque debauchery. I've personally never been, as standing in the heat drunk for eight hours isn't really my scene, but most of my friends have, and they love it. From the stories they come back with about 7-man beer bongs, getting hit in the head when a bologna sandwich mysteriously falls out of the sky, and seeing people passed out as early as 8a.m., I can see why it's something of a college tradition around these parts.

Yesterday I went out to the bars with some friends after I got off of work (and they had slept off some of the day's hangover), and we got to talking about how Preakness was. It was at that moment, that a mutual friend of all of us engaged in the discussion, nicknamed B.K. for the purposes of this story, walked past. Seeing her, Smashington Adams, grabbed my arm and said something along the lines of "Oh yeah! B.K. flashed everyone at Preakness today!" Seeing an opportunity to point out an embarassing thing one of my friends did, I called her over to chat.

Me: So, how was Preakness?
B.K.: It was a lot of fun! We had such a good time!
Me: Yeah? I heard the crowd around you had a good time too!
B.K.: Oh man! People are still talking about that?!
Me: Um, yeah, it happened this morning.
B.K.: Listen, it was a one time drunken thing. It was even my fault I was tricked into it!
Me: Tricked? How were you tricked? Was it like "Knock knock", "Who's there" "Show us your boobs"?!
B.K.: No! I went to get on my friend's shoulders and he told me that if I did, I was going to have to flash everyone—
Me: Wait a minute. That's not a trick at all! You knew what you were doing! He even told you!
B.K.: Right...but...once I was up there it got really quiet and everyone started chanting "Show your boobs!" so I had to! See, I was tricked!
Me: ::Makes quizzical face:: Yeah...not so much.
B.K.: Okay, fine I wasn't tricked. I was half tricked. It was a hybrid.
Me: A hybrid?
B.K.: Yes, a hybrid.
Me: So...you weren't tricked at all but you were better for the environment? You were a Toyota Prius?
B.K.: What? I'm telling you, it wasn't fair, I was tricked. It was a hybrid.
Me: Hybrid. Tricked. You were a Prius. No...you were the Preakness Prius! Right. Got it.
B.K.: Hahaha.
Me: Are you aware that Larry David would drive you in seasons 2-6 of Curb Your Enthusiasm?

At that point I noticed that my beverage was on "E." and unlike my good friend B.K., the Preakness Prius, it didn't have an environmentally friendly backup supply, so Smash and I excused ourselves and made our way to the bar.

-Adam