Dating at the Track

[Calzone Lord]

My girlfriends latest Internet tribute to me reminds me that a race track might be a surprisingly good place to start off a first date.




I've always assumed a track would be a horrible place for a date because my behavior at the track is often Internet level anti-social.

However, I had actually never had a first date at a track before simply because I'd always believed the most logical place for quality dates to be strip club private rooms and massage parlors. That and who really has time for chicks, anyway?

Anyway. She arrived before 7PM. Right away, I was barraged with incredibly stupid questions.

Her: "Where do these horses live?"
Me: "See those barns back there. They live in stalls just like those"
Her: "You mean they live in those Shanties on the track? They don't have homes?"
Me: "Yes"
Her: "Oh"
Me: "Where do you think they live? In the Holly Row Apartments over by East High?"

Her: "Why are they racing on dirt?"
Me: "WOOOOOOO!! That is NOT dirt! It's called Tapeta. That's Latin for "carpet" Wait right here. I will be back in a minute.

<I flash an owners pass, walk onto the paddock entrance to the track, and grab a handful and bring it back>

Me: See the carpet fibers. It's clearly not dirt. Most horses run on dirt. This is not dirt!
Her: Uh...ok.
Me: It's very important you know. The difference between dirt and fake dirt. <I break into a 3-minute rant about it>

Finally a post parade for a race starts.

Me: This race is like the Jobroni Derby. It's one of the most unique and interesting races you will ever see.
Her: Uh, ok. Why?
Me: It's a race restricted for trainers who haven't won a single race all year. It's a name your own claiming tag. You have boys running against girls, $7,500 claimers taking on $25,000 claimers. Horses carrying 113lbs taking on horses carrying 130lbs. The only common theme about this race is that the trainers suck and have gone almost 100 racing days without a win here.
Her: Uh...ok.

The 130lbs highweight in for a 25K claiming tag breaks down right before the wire in the very first race we watch. A couple of little kids on the apron are crying.

http://www1.drf.com/drfNCWeeklyHorse...10928&raceNo=5

I immediately told her "lets go inside!" and explained to her how rare this was. In the entire 100-day race meet, only one other racing related fatality occurred. I told her "this probably just happened because you're a black cloud" and I felt like everything was going so badly...that if she didn't leave me now, she probably never would.

We regrouped. Had a few beers together. Bet a few more races together. Went in the casino and I took her to the craps table and got her the dice. I told her this was her big chance to prove she wasn't a black cloud...and she responded by making a few numbers.

From there, we went to Buffalo Wild Wings and closed that place down. That was the last night of the MLB season and two insane baseball games happened. From there -- at about 2 or 3 in the morning... we drive to my Moms house in McKean. I begged her to go skinny dipping in my moms pool. She refused harshly. I picked the lock with my ID and we went into my moms basement. I assured her everything was cool. My step father wakes up screaming within minutes. I yell up and identify myself and we leave. He later told me he had a gun. Pretty stupid on my part. I had way too much to drink and I'm not really a frequent drinker.

I go back to her apartment. Black out in her bed. Accuse her of Roofying me when I wake up. I go outside and vomit all over the place. She predicted it would happen. "Beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, in the clear" or some nursery rhyme like that.

Anyway. Somehow she found that to be a great 1st date that she still glowingly raves about six months later. I guess it's a good blueprint for you guys. Start off at the track, behave like a complete idiot, do a dangerous and stupid thing or two...and pretty, smart, and cool chicks might just think you're so amazing or something.