Derby Day (5)

It was one of those days when you get to the end of it and the morning seems like a dream, like it was a week away, or a month. Already the memory is hazed, distant. I woke up early. It was May Day, Derby Day, Beltane, International Day of the Worker. They were marching in Los Angeles, but I'd already made plans. I was going to watch the Kentucky Derby at Fantasy Springs. I sang my little "I'm On an Adventure" song heading east on Ramon Road, the one I invented years ago to keep myself happy and safe, baying fear, driving that crazed curving highway over the pass between Hopland and Clear Lake, heading to a birding workshop at the state park. Today's event reminded me of going to the Jockey Club, my only other experience with off-track betting, made me think of him. I went early to try to get us seats. Auntie Christel was joining me later. I was so high, so eager, so glad to be having this outing. I told the parking garage man, the hotel lobby person, the woman who sold me the Daily Racing Form. "I'm here to watch the Kentucky Derby." I was excited, gleeful, my child bouncing and bobbing, my grin enormous. "It's Kentucky Derby day," I said. They smiled, nodded, acknowledged me. I scouted for seats. Our best bet was a table for four with one man studying the form. I asked if he'd mind two more, settled my things, saving two spots. We talked for a bit, and he held out his hand to me. "I'm Joe," he said. I almost laughed. Of course you are. "Riba," I said. I've always thought the universe had a wicked sense of humor.

The morning passed in a blur. I won once, that much I know. I remember thinking at one point I should turn around to look for Auntie Christel and there she was walking toward the table. When I parked in the garage I thought, I wonder if Auntie Christel will park beside me here. Hours later when she got out of her car she saw all the bumper stickers on the car next to her, had a feeling the car was mine. It was. It was that kind of day. I remember I was still up, still excited when she got there. I'm not sure when but later I realized I had a headache and my energy had sunk. I went in search of aspirin, saw a blue tie-dye summer dress in a store window. It's been years since I got excited about clothing. I knew I was going to buy the blue, and they had one in green, too. There were only a handful. I heard a voice telling me I'd be sorry if I didn't buy the second one, so I did. I know I'll love both dresses forever, until they're faded and full of holes. The store sold little packets of Bayer, too. It felt surreal.

The aspirin did the trick, and I got my second wind before the derby started. I was all happy again. I bet on four horses, but Lookin' at Lucky and the filly, Devil May Care, were my heart's first picks. Not one of mine finished in the money. I never even saw them in the race. "Be safe, be safe, be safe, be safe" I chanted when the room erupted into sound as all 20 contenders charged from the gates, splashing in the puddled mud of the sloppy Kentucky track as they jockeyed for position. None of my horses won, but it was a good race, and no one was hurt. I would have had a thrill if one of mine had come in, or if my boxed exacta had been the ticket. But one of Auntie Christel's picks was the unexpected winner, so that was pretty amazing. She'd picked the winning jockey. I was impressed and glad. And I'd had a full, full day and big fun. I only won one race, but I had money on horses who almost won, horses who held the lead and lost when someone came from behind, horses who came from behind and almost stole the lead but didn't. They were close, exciting races, more that I remember ever seeing all packed together in that way, the rare race the easy win, one horse way out in the lead in the home stretch. I am rusty at handicapping and I need new glasses, couldn't read the racing form well. I relied more on watching the horses in the post parade, placing last minute bets, a combination of instinct and eliminating some horses by their past performance. I chose names. There was Hidden Blessing, Wise River, Free Soul Flying.

I had a day that already feels like a dream as dusk nears and a breeze flutters our palm tree's fronds and the goldfinches cling to their sack of black nyger seed. I'm going to stop writing and go for a walk. We're talking about going back next year, and I'd like that. We have a plan to look for the same table, meet the couple from Calgary who'd joined us after Joe left. I'd thought maybe I'd want to go back for the rest of the Triple Crown races, but I doubt I will. The clothes I wore are sitting in a pile on the closet floor. They smelled like cigarettes; the smoke must have sneaked in from the casino. The room was windowless and wrong. Give me Sonoma County fairground racing any day. Driving home, the desert and the mountains woke me up again, sent awe hissing through my blood. "Look where we live," I said. I scanned the horizon. "Just look where we live." I've had a month in a day today. Lookin' at Lucky didn't win the derby, but here I am, looking at me--looking at lucky.

[Editor's note: Lookin' at Lucky won the Preakness yesterday, the second of the Triple Crown races. I knew he had it in him. I didn't see him win, but I had my heart hoping for him. I was jazzed this morning when I read it in the Sunday paper. It still makes me grin.]