My trip to Churchill Downs

Back during my nascent wanderlust in college, I convinced a couple of friends to head down to Louisville with me, just because it was close and I was a senior who had yet to cross the Ohio into the adjacent state to our south.
So we went, me and my roommate Shawn and our friend Joel. It was only about a 2 hour drive, I think, from West Lafayette to Louisville, so we were able to spend the better part of a day in Kentucky's largest city. The city of Louisville, but the way, is rather majestic coming in from the north. During the day, we saw everything that one would expect in Louisville. We saw the Louisville slugger museum, downtown and the University of Louisville, all leaving us with a pretty good impression of the city. The last stop was Churchill Downs (mostly because I thought it was in Lexington, and didn't try to find it until the last minute), but we got there around 530, after the track had closed for the day. We were going to be content taking out picture out front and head back to school.
As we were resigning ourselves to the fact that our time in Louisville was nearly at an end, we sought one a security guard to take a group picture for us. She did more than that. "Hey, do you guys want to see the track?" she asked. We sure did! She led us through the facility and eventually down into the bleachers and right next to the dirt that is being raced upon today.
The impression I got was that everyone there loves the Derby, loves the track and mostly loves the tradition. Going into the race, most Kentuckians don't really care who wins the race, but are just proud to host it. Afterwards, at the track anyways, the hosts will cheer for whichever steed won the race. My brief time there, and the courteousness of the guard as well as the evident pride have left me with a soft spot for the race from that point forward. I probably won't get a chance to catch it, but I hope everyone has fun.

A story from Wednesday's game

So, as I mentioned, I went to the Twins game on Wednesday, and I had an amazing time, as always. After the game, I took the bus back to the Mall of America, the express route, which is an awesome secret that I'm glad not many people know about, because the lines are short and it takes just about as long to get back to the park and rides.
Anyways, just before I got on the bus, a driving rain picked up, and the sky was bleak. By the time I got to the buses, they were pretty much at the end of their day (we took a while getting out of the stadium) so not only did I get to sit, I got a window seat and was in a row to myself. I listened to music (old school Wu Tang, if you must know) and stared at the desolate urban landscape. I felt like I was in a Spike Lee movie.
Eventually, the skies cleared and we were approaching the 28th Street Station, and an intoxicated Iowan (he said he was from Iowa, I'm not just being prejudiced) started heckling the bus driver. It was a pretty quiet bus ride, and he was the only one making any noise. I could hear him over the music (which had rolled over to U2) and, annoyed, I muttered under my breath, "Shut up!"
Drunk Iowan whirls around from his spot about 4 rows up, "Did I just hear someone someone tell me to shut up?"
Oh God....
Thankfully, I wasn't the only one with that opinion, and a man of about 60 had also expressed the same  sentiment. Drunk Iowan then expressed his drunk Iowan opinion about how said 60 year old was an a-hole, and 60 Year Old said "I just think that sometimes loud mouths should.... just be quiet." Well said, 60 Year Old.
It went on for the rest of the trip. Every time there was a lull, Drunk Iowan would again express his opinion on the man being an A-hole. I really thought it was going to spill out to the bus stop. I made sure to walk slowly enough after I got off the bus to make sure things didn't escalate. I'm not a fighter, if you can believe that, but I am over 6'2 and if you don't know me, I'm sure I could be intimidating if I wanted to be. At least distracting enough that a frail 60 Year Old might have time to get away to avoid a beating for saying the same thing I was thinking.
Fortunately for me, 60 Year Old was light on his feet and got the hell out there as soon as he got off the bus, and my intended heroism was not to be. Probably for the best. I would have got my ass kicked.