Preakness: It’s Not Just For Horses
On Saturday May 21st 2005 in Baltimore, MD at around 6:30 PM as Afleet Alex was winning the Preakness, my friends and I were on the infield at Pimlico, drunkenly celebrating High Limit winning the Preakness. Which clearly didn’t happen at all.
In fact, High Limit didn’t even finnish in the top 3, we were just so delerious that we assumed since a horse won, it must have been ours.
(<Buda, Rox, Balla doing giant sized things)
(<someones whore of a daughter)
This was my 4th Preakness, and I’ve been every year since 2001 (with the exception of 2003, when I was busy graduating from Tulane University and I had to prioritize) and I can best describe it as Mardi Gras in a cage with 100,000 people. With a horse race going on.
(<Rox and Dane, throwing it up like liquor on an empty stomach)
.
My day got off to a pretty rough start, waking up at 8am after going to sleep 2 hours earlier having had a nasal run-in with rush’s favorite pain killer. After some breif hassles in the supermarket about how much beer to buy (126 beers for 5 people) and what kind of sandwiches people wanted (italian, roast beef) it was time to take a couple of gravity bong hits and hop in a cab. When we arrived, it was just a shit show of people standing in line. One of my friends was having some bladder difficulty and immediately ran-off to urinate. It should also be stated of the 5 people we were with one was a small girl, one had a broken hand and the other was using a cane to walk due to a torn ACL, so I had to carry a lot more beer than I was comfortable with. But anyway, when we finally sat down and laid our blanket out (more on that later) it was probably no later than 11am.
I spent the first hour or so nodding in and out and trying not to throw up. Eventually, I gave up and just started drinking and betting. Eventually, as the beers started going down easier, the debauchery started to abound.
(<Vote Hillary Clinton in 2008)
(<Balla and whore embrace. herpes appears)
.
There lines for the betting and the bathroom quickly started to reach epic proportions and eventually things got more disgusting. At one point while we were online for the bathroom (people always correct me and say "in line" and i respond "gag on it"), meeting sluts and chilling, we see this one girl straight let loose in her pants and then the back of her jeans started dripping, man was it nasty. At some other point in the day this drunk guy climbed onto the top of the porto-potty and dove off into a puddle of what I can only assume to be urine based mud. To avoid this sort of scene, I improvised and found myself urinating into a bottle while positioned underneath our blanket (which itself had deteriorated into a muddy, urine soaked rag) which was a pretty kick-ass plan until disaster struck and I began urinating in quantities larger than 32-ounces.
(imma degenerate, imma imma degenerate, ask about me)
.
So much to my chagrin when I arose with the not-so-fly urine drippings on my frontal reproductive area I figured that the best possible solution was to pour a lot of beer down the front of my pants, so thats what i did. No one was sober enough to pay a terrible amount of attention to me, or what i was doing.
At another point, me and dane were walking around singing "skinny white kids make the world go ’round" and we happened upon some drunken crackers, who may have felt we were mocking them. So this one kid starts aggresivly dry-humping my leg as I stand there trying to ascertain what exactly it is he wanted, as his friend who is laying on the ground, starts trying to beef because I spilled beer on him as a result of his friends humping, and as the circle around me was getting smaller and my beer got slapped out of my hand by some meathead waste of life, I calmly exited the area, and found the nearest crushed can, ripped it in half, and vowed the next person to step was going to get their face cut.
No one else stepped, but a whole lot of people from cities and states with sub-par baseball teams (boston, baltimore, etc.) seemed convinced that the Yankees sucked. In the tunnel on the way out, we started a "lets go yankees" chant, which was loudly sustained and right away a rival "fuck the yankees" chant was started. It was amusing.
Lots of other shit happened, many tits were shown, lots of girls slutted it up, garbage was everywhere and it was fucking awesome. The four Preakness virgins I went with all vowed that they would be back in future years, and you know my drunk ass loves to wild out. I’ll close with the remaining photo, credit to my man Dane for all the flicks.
(skinny white kids make the world go ’round)
