Horse Blog

Time to head back up to the clubhouse.

Every few seconds some old ginbag would bump into me and I’d check to make sure I still had my wallet. There were TVs everywhere simul-casting horse races from all over the country and a large crowd of the unemployable stood watching them with glassy eyes and rolled up tout sheets. None of them looked well off enough to be betting on anything. I haven’t been to the track in a long time, but I used to enjoy it. Of course, I always sprung for three bucks to go into the clubhouse where you could get a steak and people wore sport coats. I had never been to the hobo level before. It was like a scene in Escape from New York.

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Read more from this blogger: Just like Monte Carlo. If Monte Carlo were full of hobos.