Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Welcome to the Hotel Red Roof Inn
Many of you know (two of you) that I had planned on sleeping in my car (Mrs. Carryover's car) for Derby week. I'd be like a turtle carrying my home on my back. But last night I sat in the parking lot of Kroger near Churchill Downs, the rain pounded, my heart pounded from the stress of writing these stories that I feel nobody is reading, stressed that I won't find the interesting people, stressed that my stories will be flaccid, stressed that my editors will wonder why the hell they even hired me, stressed that I had to drop my entire stipend to afford the hotel, stressed that I'll be in the hole unless I hit the Derby big, stressed that I'll be this colossal disappointment, well, you get it. My stomach's churning and I didn't even get a chance to snap a picture of the sign "Big Bone Lick." Terrible, I know.
Just this other form of stress:
Well, here we go. I haven't felt this kind of pressure in a while. Tonight I'll be reporting from the Kentucky Derby Trainers Dinner. $150 a plate.
I'll be standing in back.