A bunch of friends hit the racetrack this weekend on Friday for a little gambling and a concert. The gambling: I lost a few races and got into a fight with a 'teller' who was so excruciatingly slow that the race started before I got to wager my bet. Of course one of the horses I would have picked to Place, came in at Place and I grumbled about it for hours. We moved downstairs to watch the adorable jockeys mount their horses. What a sight to behold - tiny athletes and enormous muscular animals. One of the jockeys smiled at me as they were exiting to the track and I took this as a sign. I picked his horse to Win, and it did. Before the next race, I ran down to watch the scene and waited to see who, if anyone, would smile. #3 did and despite his high odds, I picked him to Place. He won. I know, all gamblers have their weird little OCD rituals, but I think in the future I will try this one again. Did I mention how cute those jockeys are?
The concert: Did you realize the English Beat had so many hits? They sang them all, one after the other - "I Confess", "Sooner or Later", "Mirror in the Bathroom", and on and on and on. We danced our butts off until the wee hours of the morning. Almost thirty years later and they've still got it, though Dave Wakefield, the lead singer, oddly reminded me of a realtor I worked with, Clifford Rowe.
This morning I heard a piece on NPR about the racetrack in Baghdad. Despite uncertain times and the war and the violence in that region, people still go to the racetrack, because for that minute-and-a-half that the horses are vying for the finish line, the Iraqi people can forget about their troubles and just focus on the action on the track. It was a powerful story and made me appreciate the relative calm of an ordinary Friday night in Los Angeles, despite the small altercation with the teller ; )
