OFF TO THE RACES...

So Catty, Leslie and I decided we wanted to participate in the Racing Carnival Week known here as the Melbourne Cup. It is a week of races (Saturday is Derby Day, Tuesday is Cup Day, Thursday is Crown Oaks Day (unofficially ladies day) and the following Saturday is Stakes Day which is family day) with the biggest prize races on Cup day which is a local public holiday. The races are very prestigious, with horses from Ireland, the Middle East, Australia, etc… all competing for a few million in prize money. Over 100,000 spectators attend each of these major days, including many celebrities such as Rob Scheider, Chris Isaak and other random B-listers, that for unknown reasons are well loved here in the land down under. The event is formal, and for women a hat/hairpiece is “mandatory”. We made a few trips to various stores, finding new hats ranging from $100-$1000+ but we were unwilling to pay that kind of cash for something we might wear only once. Then we tried the op shops (Opportunity shops – which are the rough equivalent to consignment stores), with no luck. Next we tried dollar stores and some cheap accessories stores and eventually we all managed to find some cheap hair accessories that would do the trick.

We left the house by 9 am, Catty and Leslie had prepped for our outing by pouring horribly cheap wine (the colour of urine, the taste of super sweet slightly off fruit juice) into empty Coke bottles for drinking on the train. Flashbacks to younger days found me chugging from a bottle on the train, very reminiscent of Hope Volleyball tournaments and other stupid days in my past. I would come to regret this decision, but not for many hours.

From the train station on, the day was full of beautiful women in wonderfully stylish dresses with extraordinary hair pieces, updos and fancy hats, accompanied by stylish men in suits with metrosexual shoes. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced in person before. A giant prom from the set of Gossip Girl, a red carpet event for young adults…and I felt old and old. In any event, ladies – it was fun! There were also people that bucked the trend and went in groups with themed costumes…the superheroes, the jailbirds, and even a crew of Santas handing out presents like flipflops,

We met up with Jeff’s colleagues, Akiko, Steve O’Shea and his wife Adele, Tim and his roomate Nikki. Upon arrival, 3 bottles of Sparkling Wine were purchased. It was but 10:30am. We saw a few races from the edge of the rail which was interesting but the action passes by in a split second and since we were not at the finish line, our split second view meant nothing! Another guy that works with Jeff, Dale, is part owner of a horse that placed second in one of the early races on Cup Day (he also slipped up 2 passes to the Owner’s section where we slummed a little bit later in the day). Over the course of the day, we managed to finish a case worth of sparkling wine. With Tim chanting “Eating is cheating” and Steve and Tim refilling our glasses after each sip we were all enjoying ourselves, the sun, the races and our new neighbours. We placed bets on the final race but none of us managed to win anything with 3 outside hopes placing first, second and third. That was the most disappointing part of the day as I was hoping to pay off my ticket and boozing with my winnings. We left Flemington racecourse with the other 100,000 spectators taking the train back to the city. Very orderly, but mostly a big blur. Tim blared some Hip from his iPhone into my ear to try and keep me in the game, but the train was very hot and very crowded and I was DONE.

As per my usual self, I slipped away from our group and stumbled to the next platform to catch the next train home. The rest of the group went on to party some more in the CBD but I was in no condition to be social. I made it home safely but those of you that have ever been out drinking with me know how this evening ended … luckily there was no one around to witness my finale (at least no one I knew). I am thankful for the experience but more thankful for my husband for overlooking my poor tolerance of alcohol and childish ways.

And that was the celebration that stops a nation!