In England we have The Grand National. In America they have The Kentucky Derby. Once a year everyone suddenly becomes interested in Horse Racing back in Blighty, and in America it’s no different.
The Kentucky Derby is a huge deal, so huge in fact that we have been planning special events for it at work for weeks now. Last week a man from Makers Mark came in to tell us about the promotions the restaurant would be running, needless to say he was a stone cold dickwad. He sat down and the first thing he said was ‘Man I’m tired, I’ve been riding my bike all day and then I ran like fifteen miles.’ I immediately turned to him and asked ‘Did you then bench double your body weight? You must be exhausted.’ He didn’t appreciate my comment. He continued to teach us about Makers Mark whilst simultaneously hitting on all the girls at work. He told us that if he came back into the restaurant and asked someone if they knew how makers Mark was made he would take them out to dinner, I turned to him once again and said ‘Even me? Because I warn you, I like to be treated like a Lady.’ Once again, not amused. The celebration of the Makers Mark Man continued for about half an hour more and he signed off by saying ‘If any of you are having a party give me a call, I’ll hook you up with free whiskey.’ I took his card, I’m considering a Dexter style party where I invite him round and kill him before drinking some limited edition Makers over his dead body. Dickhead.
The promotion for the day of the race was $6 Mint Julep’s and a free glass. I thought nothing of it at the time but on Saturday as the build up to the race began all people were interested in at work was the free glass. It was like crack to them. The free glass was basically a plastic tumbler with a list of former Kentucky Derby winners dipped in red wax.... hmmmmm.
The slow trickle of people entering the restaurant suddenly became a wave and every seat in the house was taken up. Of course they all wanted a piece of the Mint Julep and free glass. So i rang about 15 of them into the computer and walked over to the bar to collect my drinks. As I arrived the bartender Sean looked like he wanted to commit suicide. In about ten minuted he was expected to make Julep’s for the whole restaurant (250 people). He started to lose his shit. The ice from the Julep’s was rubbing the ink off of the tickets so he didn’t know what to make and the new manager who is training at our restaurant was getting in the way. The thing is the new manager is giant, around 6 foot 5 so he was really in the way.
Eventually I gave up and decided to speak to my tables. On one table I had 4 crazy Russian ladies who had backed about 5 horses each. The only thing that excited them more than winning money was obtaining a free commemorative glass. Another table was 3 good looking young ladies all dressed up in hats for the occasion and having a liquid dinner, I liked them. My last table were two couples, before I tell you about them you need to know that on saturday I almost won $400 dollars. We had a sweepstake going at work, $20 each to pick a name out of a hat, winner takes all. Twenty horses were running so there was a lot of money up for grabs. Earlier in the day I had pulled my horse out the hat (a cowboy hat for those interested) his name.... American Lion. His number.... number 7. I thought of all the great number 7’s over the years, Beckham, Best, Ronaldo, Pires, Raul, Matthew Rose, I was destined to win. All my tables were aware that if American Lion roared through to the finish I was going to be giving them great service, so understandably they wanted him to win. As my final table, the two couples sat down, I told them that we wanted American Lion to win and that I had $400 on it. They looked at me like I was the scum of the earth. I offered them some alcohol to drink. They continued to look at me like I molest puppies.
The Lion was 21/1.... O.K not the best but you never know. The Fastest Two Minutes in sport was drawing closer. All my tables were excited except the two couples, I couldn’t work out why. Their food came just before the race started, I sauntered over to see if they were O.K and as I did their stand offishness became clear. Their heads were bowed and their hands together.... they were saying a prayer. Oh fuck, I had just told a table of devout Christians about my gambling exploits and tried to get them to drink with the promise of a free glass.
The race was about to begin. I was two minutes away from becoming richer than wildest dreams. I was relying on a Lion, not just any Lion, but American Lion.
Bang!!!! The race started. Number 12 raced into the lead as I scanned the field for 7. He was nowhere to be seen, the pack was too tight and the rain had meant the horses were covered in dirt thus obscuring most of their numbers. The atmosphere was electric as the lead changed hands several times.... then at the last corner I saw him streaking down the outside.... AMERICAN LION!!!!!
They switched the camera angle and suddenly I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on. It was tense as everyone waited to see the final standings and the winner was........
................. Number 4, Super Saver. Oh well, hopefully American Lion will have finished inside the top 3 at least for some dignity. They flashed the results up on the screen, American Lion finished 11th.... fucker.
Two minutes after the race Ashley came leaping over to the bar. ‘How did number 4 do?’ she asked?. Bitch hadn’t even watched the race and she made $400.
Let’s just say I know what brand of glue I am going to buying next year.
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