Derby Days, or The Demon Daybreak Goes to Kentuckiana

Had you asked me two months ago (around the time of my last post… shhhhh) where I would be on May 3, 2007, I might have said Chicago. I might have said New York. I might have even said Tushka, OK.

I would not have placed myself in a 36’ RV called the Demon Daybreak gunning down I-65 toward scenic Clarksville, IN with a handful of unidentified Irishmen and a fridge full of raw meat.

And yet that is where I found myself just a few short days ago. For those of you who are questioning my life choices right now, let me clarify a few things:

1. The RV was not actually named the Demon Daybreak. It was the Daybreak model by the highly respectable Damon Motor Coach Company. The demons came along later in the trip.
2. One does not necessarily “gun” an RV. We kept it at a civilized 60-65 mph, slowing down for curves and while attempting to retrieve bottled beverages from the fridge.
3. Clarksville, IN was not our final destination. Our final destination was the KOA trailer park just up the road.
4. We cooked the meat before we ate it. (Mostly.)
5. While I may not have known the Irishmen’s names for portions of the trip, neither did they.

The ultimate destination, before you get really concerned, was the Churchill Downs and the 133rd Kentucky Derby. And, we reasoned, if one is checking this epic event off the life To Do list, one had best do it in proper style and with the necessary vehicular bling. Methinks Xzibit would be the first to agree.

My goal today, however, is not to give you all the details of the weekend (for that, please see "Chamillionaire & Krayzie Bone") but rather to address a few myths and stereotypes that you may have (and I certainly did) regarding the Derby itself, the nature of RV travel, and the entire nation of Ireland. Let’s begin.

MYTH: Proper Derby attire is similar to what you might find at a debutante ball.
VERDICT: True.
This I discovered a bit late in the game. As in, upon my arrival at the Churchill Downs clad in a Guinness t-shirt, the pants I had slept in the night before, Reefs, and a trucker hat with my name written on it that I purchased on the streets of New York for $10. Now, let me disclaim that it was raining outside and threatening to continue for the entire day. Let me also note that we weren’t sitting in the grandstands but rather standing in the infield, which would presumably turn into a muddy pit by the end of the day due to the precipitation. This did not seem to concern the coiffed and feathered J Crew models on steroids surrounding us. Nor, presumably, did it concern the Queen of England, who was also in attendance and who I’m betting was not carting around a roll of toilet paper “in case the Port-o-Johns run low.”

MYTH: The Kentucky Derby is a horse race.
VERDICT: Unclear.
I am guessing that this one is true but could not confirm it because from no spot on the infield is a live horse actually visible. We peasants had to sneak into the paddock area, and from there we had a view of the large screen TVs that were broadcasting the races. I’m guessing that those who dished out the $3000 for grandstand seats got HD. Queen Elizabeth may have had plasma.

MYTH: The Mint Julep is a Derby delight and the drink of choice for all race goers.
VERDICT: False.
The Mint Julep is whisky on the rocks with a sprig of mint floating on top. Even the infamous Woodford Reserve $1000 Mint Julep, made with ice from the Arctic Circle, fresh mint flown in from Morocco, and sugar imported from Mauritius, served in a gold-plated cup with sterling silver straw, is no Derby delight. And the drink of choice for this race goer was (clearly) Miller Lite. Although, in a pinch, Smirnoff + Sunny D = crazy delicious.

MYTH: RVs are a means to an end, the perfect ride for anyone who doesn’t like stopping every time they need a bathroom.
VERDICT: False.
While it is true that motor coaches offer the comfort of ensuite facilities for the efficient traveler, the Daybreak by Damon is so much more than a mode of transportation. Picture an exceptionally roomy living area with inviting home-style décor and elegant furniture selections, an efficient kitchen with rich cabinetry and lots of useable storage space, and a master bedroom designed for comfort and charm. The Daybreak made the KOA motor park, and the interstate, feel like home – thanks Damon! (In a sidenote, should you feel inclined to refund the fees assessed for damages to the convertible table-bed and spot cleaning of the carpet, I do have a PayPal account for your convenience.)

MYTH: It is impossible to get bad barbecue in the South.
VERDICT: False.
I have actually disproved this theory multiple times in the past two weeks, which is perhaps why I have been experiencing some symptoms of depression. Both on this trip to Kentucky and on a trip to Nashville the weekend prior (yes, yes that does mean I drove the same stretch of I-65 four times in a ten day span) I was a victim of bad barbecue. It started in Nashville. I had signed up for the Country Music ½ marathon purely on the pretext that I would be able to consume massive amounts of pulled pork after crossing the finish line. Had I known that the payoff was going to be slightly raw pork on a soggy bun with a dollop of what appeared to be watered down marinara sauce with oregano sprinkled on top, I might have chosen differently. Especially when I discovered this to be the condiment of choice in Kentucky as well, and that it was not limited to pork. Needless to say, we stuck with burgers for the rest of the weekend and formulated plans to report several local restaurants to the Better Business Bureau. And ship them a crate of Sweet Baby Ray’s.

MYTH: The Irish drink more than any other people on the planet.
VERDICT: True.
Names have been changed to protect immigration status, but let’s just say that observing “Martin” and “Francis” and “Bart” over the course of the weekend prompted one member of our party to declare: “It makes my liver want to jump out my mouth and run away.”

Or maybe that was the bad barbecue.