Horse Racing on the Beach!

I'm told the experience of horse racing on the beach is very Irish.  All day long I was excited, one because I'd never been to a proper horse race before, and two because I'd be there with Alie and her family, the same family who had adopted me as one of their own when I visited them in Mullingar.

Alie and I met at her house after work, and from there we all took a taxi down to the beach.  We had packed bottles of champagne for the occasion, and the weather was a picture perfect BEAUTIFUL sunny and 70 degrees.

We picked a spot along the fence and laid out our blankets and lawn chairs.  Mick and Marge were big fans of the races, and Marge in particular knew her stuff when it came to playing the bets.  Since I am not a betting person in general, I was fairly intimidated.  Greg took me up to where the bookies were lined up, under a series of umbrellas, taking people's bets big and small.  He placed the wagers for the family, and we took back a series of paper slips.

The announcer came over the audio system and said the horses were lining up.  A few minutes later, "THEY'RE OFF" accompanied the start.  The horses and their jockeys came flying down the beach amidst cheers and encouragements from the crowd.  The announcer kept us up on the leads, and once they all crossed the finish line, winners were cheering and losers were strategizing for the next race. 

The cycle repeated itself six times over the course of a few hours.  I was happily bouncing around, energetic and loving life.  The champagne was helping.  After the third race I left the group in search of new people to talk to.  Alie kept a close eye on me as I wandered about.  First, I honed in on a pair of guys wearing interesting hats.  I went up and asked what the deal was with the hats, and they were happy to give me the breakdown.  Apparently one was wearing a summer hat and the other a winter hat.  The guy wearing the summer hat was also wearing a suit jacket, and since it was warm outside, I inquired as to why.  "Sweetie, a gentleman always wears a jacket."  Was the reply.  I tilted my head, batted my eyes, smiled and said "If you says so Darlin."  They were great fun, or "a good crack" as we would say in Ireland.

After a bit I moved on to a group of guys who were hanging about by the bookie stations.  One of them had a bandaged hand and was holding two beers.  Perfect.  I went up and asked if the two-at-once strategy was for good luck.  He took a decent swig and with a smile said, "Of course!"  That led to a long conversation about the races, where everyone was from, the hand injury, and so on.  They were just as lost when it came to picking their bets as I was.  I told them the one bet I was sure to make was the last race, a horse named "USA" who had a female jockey.  They gave me a good amount of grief for that choice, at which point I started losing interest in them and gaining interest in the smell of freshly cooked onion rings coming from a nearby stand.  I wished them luck, excused myself, and went out in search of tasty foods to bring back to the group. 

Upon my return to the beach, Alie, who had been watching, was shaking her head and smiling.  I passed a carton of chips around and everyone was happy for a bite.  After the second-to-last race Greg took me back up to the bookie area and helped me to place my bet.  10 euro on USA to win!  We went down and waited for the race to start.  As soon as the horses took off, I tried to make USA out from the others, but they were packed in a bunch and it was nearly impossible to see until they were right in front of us.  A couple second later they crossed the finish line.  "And the winner is USA!"  WOOOHOOOOO.  I went back up, collected my money, and displayed a very proud grin all the way home.