If I had a dollar for every time I was asked this on Derby day, I wouldn't have to look for another job! So, it only makes sense to share with the world (or the small amount of you who are bored enough to care) why I was not at Churchill for the 137th run for the roses...
Enter TDB (for a recap of TDB, read a few posts below). TBD mentioned early this year that he wanted to go to Derby. Why he was telling me this, I had no idea, I mean last I checked Derby is a public event. Whatever. Anyway, TBD asked if I wanted to go with. I told him that the offer is nice, but I have some other things I'd rather do (aka spend my money on, like shoes) and it didn't exactly fit into the budget. So, he made an offer I just could not refuse - he'd buy the tickets (don't fret, I informed him that I do NOT do the following: infield; paddock; or any place that a drop of rain could be felt on my head) if I took care of where to stay. Well, this was easy. I have tons of friends who live in Louisville, so it looked like I was going to high roll it Barnstable Brown style for pennies on the dollar!
Uh, no. You see, I forgot to mention that TBD is an asshole. I mean, just an asshole. He's cute. And I guess has some money. But an asshole. I don't see TDB often, so not often that I can usually handle his assholeness in small doses. Well, this particular asshole action put an end to that.
As mentioned in the previous post, TBD had asked me to go to a Cubs game with him. TBD lives out of state. He visits Chicago frequently for work. We will usually meet up for dinner or a drink when he's in town, text from time to time, and that defines our friendship. That particular Friday, Mother Nature decided that she'd rather me have a $168 store credit in my pocket as a result of a mild embarrassment, then for me to sit at a Cubs game. Who am I to argue with Mother Nature??
Instead of the game, TDB and I grabbed some lunch and did a little shopping. TDB wanted me to help him pick out a suit for Derby, since he had never been; heck, I've never been to Derby.
Random tangent, yes, I am a born and raised Kentucky girl; yes, I love the Derby; yes I love horse racing and Keeneland is one of my most favorite places on earth. But I have never been to a Derby! I refuse to do the infield. I'm not a skank, I have no desire to mud wrestle, or to show my boobs. The paddock isn't for me. If you can't even get into Churchill, why am I going to stand up all day in my 6 inch platform Louboutins watching it on the projection screens. I am perfectly fine watching the Derby and the 2 and a half hour coverage leading up to it, alone on my couch, while wearing my Derby hat (do not judge me). You see, I will not go to Derby until I can do it right. I want to mingle with the D-list celebrities. I want the whispers of "who is she?" as I walk by, because well, everyone figures if you are in that part of Churchill you must be somebody. So, until I can do that, you will most likely not see me at Derby.
Back to the story, fortunately for TDB, although I have never been to a Derby, I do consider myself quite the fashionista and I know the Do's and Don't's of the fastest 2 minutes of sports. I help him find a suit, we drop it off at my apartment (why I am not sure but +5 pts Mother Nature) and head to Hub51 to meet my friends for happy hour.
In attendance are the usuals. Although we had all just seen each other 24 hours prior at Benchmark for the Bulls and Hawks games, so much had happened later that night it took the entire evening to catch up. Well, I guess TDB either wasn't interested or just too much of an asshole to even pretend to care. So he bellies up to the bar directly behind me. With two cougars. Two.
Eva thinks this is absolutely hilarious. Quite frankly, I do too! I mean, strange and a bit of a blow to my ego, but funny nonetheless. Well, that is until the cougars start to ROAR! And roar they did! We can hear their whispers and snickers from behind. I found this a little sad and pathetic that two 50-something women were spending their evening stirring up trouble with a group of 30-somethings, but to each her own...until, I get called a bitch!
TDB had tapped me on the shoulder and I mentioned his suit pants at my apartment. ROAR!!!!! The cougar starts to scream at me "What, did he leave his pants at your apartment last night?" Confused, and trying not to laugh, I say "Uh, no, he left them there this afternoon." ROAR!!!! "Bitch, he'll be leaving his pants at my house tonight!!!" "Uh, ok," followed by an eye roll from me.
Oh. no. she. didn't. I turn back to my table. Eva is cracking up. Everyone else is in awe. The cougars continue to yap, roar, you f'n BITCH, yap, roar behind me. I think I'm in the twilight zone. Is this what I have to look forward to in life?? Screaming at young women in bars? Goody.
Fast forward about an hour, Eva and I go to the restroom (yes, girls still go in pairs). As we walk down the staircase, I see two people making out. "Skanks," I think to myself. Oh, nope, even better...TDB and the "bitch" yelling cougar. Yep, I'm in the twilight zone. After TDB and the cougar finish their business, TDB comes up to me to ask what he's done wrong. I laugh. I just told him that it would be better for him not to call me, not to text me, and not to think he's welcome in my house to get his shopping bag back. I informed him that I would no longer be going to Derby with him, but I'm sure the cougar would! He turns around and just walks out. End scene.
Of course he did text me the next day with some sorry lame ass attempt at an apology. I didn't respond. I knew he was going to be in Chicago the following weekend for work. I waited to see if I heard from him regarding his stuff - nope! So I now have a nice store credit that I will use to by myself something fabulous!!!! Any suggestions?? I'm thinking a nice maxi dress. Or maybe a metallic, skinny belt?
And that, my friends, is the answer to the question, "Why aren't you at Derby??"
