And they're off!

The company outing turned out to be not as bad as expected. Because we had reserved tables for brunch in the clubhouse, dress code was business casual. Those in the grandstands could wear shorts or jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts if they wanted. I was rather bummed that I couldn't wear golf shorts, so I wore a golf skirt instead. It had built-in shorts, in lieu of a normal lining, so I sort of felt as though I was cheating. Sales-Bitch told me she was "so angry that I could spit" that she wasn't wearing an outfit similar to mine. On days like this, a skirt, some casual Sperry moccasins, and an untucked golf shirt made for a pretty breezy outfit.

For whatever reason, my alarm didn't go off this morning. I woke up in time to catch my train, but didn't have time to shower. Yes, I slicked on a good portion of anti-perspirant, and brushed my teeth, but otherwise dressed and ran out the door. I did indeed make my 8:00 am meeting with my CEO. I joked with the guy who originally hired me as we rode up the elevator that if someone ticked me off today, I'd sit next to the person at the outing. Funny enough, my CEO sat right behind me at the adjacent lunch table, and next to me on the LIRR train ride back to where we had to change trains at Jamaica.

It was interesting to watch who really got into the betting. One of our brightest programmers (who looks like a leftover wild-and-greasy-haired hippie) had all the race forms, was taking notes, and was so serious about it that nobody wanted to approach him to break his concentration. Who'd a thunk? Most people who did bet plunked only $1 or $2 on a few races. Most people didn't bet at all. I'll stick to football pools; I'm really good at those with the point spread and the Monday night total game points tiebreaker.

Sales-Bitch's #3 from St. Louis was in town for the races, and she was bragging the whole way out there about her knowledge of what a daily double, trifecta, exacta, etc. are, and the difference between win, place and show. I know all that as well, but let her have her day in the sun. She had been to the races once before in her life and won a daily double on a fluke. She lost ~ $50 today, not winning a single bet she placed. I thought that was hilarious.

Evelyn and I ran out for a smoke, took the elevator down to the first floor, and a NYRA employee on the elevator told us that when we got off, "just make a u-turn to your right and out the doors." We found ourselves in the paddock area. Evelyn's Puerto Rican, and yelled out to a couple of jockeys in Spanish as they walked toward the paddock if they would mind posing for a picture. One kept on walking, but the other came on over and let her snap a picture, then went on his way.

The next jockey who came out was really cute, and Evelyn thought it was a woman. It wasn't. When he came by on his horse to walk out to the track, he was "adjusting" his bulge. "Evelyn--that's no woman. You missed the bulge." She cracked up to badly that I thought she just might get us arrested.

We couldn't tell from the silks which horse number Picture Guy was riding, but we went down to the edge of the paddock after he had mounted his horse. It was number 2. Evelyn didn't know we were allowed to go right up to the rail. I said "Sure we can--I don't see anyone getting ready to arrest us--yet." Just then, I looked up and saw a burly cop standing in the middle of the paddock, perhaps 20' away, looking at us. We later walked out trackside by the finish post to watch the race. The jockey's name was Javier Castellano, and he won his race by several lengths.

The jockeys, subtracting the average weight of a racing saddle from their weight allowance, probably weigh about the same as I do, but they all come up to my armpits. I am not tall. That surprised me.

A few minutes later, I said "We should tell Bob where the paddock is." I turned around toward the clubhouse only to see him walking out one of the doors. We waved him down, and he joined us. Turns out Bob was the one who suggested Belmont Park for the outing. He almost never attends company events, and even blows off the lunch after our monthly brunch club meetings. That explains why he was there today.

In the seventh race, there was horse named Zero Probability. I loved the name. Since I spend quite a good portion of my time dealing with statistics and probabilities, even I might have dropped a buck on that race, but didn't have time before we had to head out to catch the train. Turns out that Zero Probability was well named. He was scratched. He had Zero Probability of starting--forget winning.

Some who took the trains out with us hitched rides with others who drove there, but most of the rest of us caught the 4:31. We changed at Jamaica for a Penn Station train, which got us into Penn with just four minutes for John (the guy who originally hired me) and me to literally run up the stairs and through the station to catch our connecting NJ Transit train. He's on a different line than I, but could change at Secaucus. With the huge line to get down to platform level, he decided to hedge his bet and run for another one a few minutes later. I had no other train option, but going to Hoboken. I made the 5:18. It was standing room only until Secaucus, but then I got a seat. I was actually home by 6:30. The connections were tight, but worked out really well. I haven't gotten home this early in about a year and a half, unless I took a summer Friday.

In the end, the transportation thing turned out alright. The company must have heard the complaints and decided to kick in for the cost of one-way tickets at the last minute; it sent a couple of people up there to buy them for us and distribute them this morning. No train crew member ever collected them, so we were able to use them on the way back into the city. Other than the subway ride ($2), and an additional ($2) fare for the zone difference between Hoboken and NY Penn for my monthly NJ Transit train pass, it wasn't a hit in the wallet. I can deal with forking out $4, $2 of which was my option for the convenience of saving time by running for that Penn connection. I never placed a bet.

I have no pictures to share. I brought my camera, only to discover that the AA batteries were dead. I love that camera, but it really does eat batteries, which is why I have an AC adapter for it to use at home. It's too bad I missed the "Red Hat Brigade." It was a flock of elderly women dressed head to toe to match a fuchsia plant, complete with hot pink and purple straw hats in various styles. Oh well, I can always swipe pictures that others have taken and posted on our network. Nobody will mind.