June 17, 2004
And not only that, but I have to be honest-I had fun.
I take the train to Ascot, carrying my clothes in a brown paper Habitat bag since we were having lunch at a golf club first, so I could change there. The train was actually headed into London, but judging by the big hats and the men's "morning suits" (kind of a strange combination between a tux and what you expect Prince Charles to wear) and top hats, and I knew I was on the right train.
When we got there, my Habitat bag and I made for a taxi and got to the golf club, passing the Ascot High Street and the Royal Meeting, which looked adorned with shops to the likes of Prada and Gucci. Oh yeah. I am not going to fit in here. Women teetered on wobbly stilletos, their bodies cinched up tightly in brightly colored dresses, their hats battended down on their head and wraps travelling over the length of their arms.
After a long conversation with my Pakistani taxi driver (for some reason, I always get chatty taxi drivers that wind up telling me about their life. I certainly don't mind this, only I was feeling a bit stressed then) I get to the golf course and change clothes. The sun was out, the weather was hot, and I was in love with the heat I felt on my shoulders and back.
And I have to tell you-I felt fabulous in The Dress.
My friends: The Dress. This is me standing in front of the glass enclosure, which held the Royal Family for their view of the races.
And here are two more of me in The Hat.
We got to the Royal Meeting-about 10 Dream Job employees in all (including my manager and his fiancee, and I like both of them very much so that helped) were accompanied by 4 Company X people. The Company X people were nice albeit hungover (they had attended the Royal Meeting the day before, as well) and they were quick to make sure that the champagne glasses were always full.
I did not object.
Walking in was amazing-we were given a little tag for our clothes to allow us into the boxes, and we settled in. There were 6 races in all, and we would get the chance to watch and bet on all of them. I bet on horse's names that I liked-in the first race I bet on a horse called "Psychiatrist" simply because I thought it was meant to be, and in the second race I placed money on an American horse called "Soldera", since that seemed nice and patriotic to me.
Both lost.
My horse in the third race won, which made me happy. I didn't bet big money, only 2 pounds per horse, but it was nice getting money when my boy won. In case you were in the stands, that was me on my feet yelling "OutgoddamnSTANDING!" when the horse placed.
You can take the girl out of the U.S., but you can't take the U.S. out of the girl.
I collected my 9 pounds winning.
Which I promptly lost in the next race.
Peter, the main Company X contact I work with, took me down to the Paddock area, which is the grass green just in front of the race track, between the Queen's viewing area and the track. It was amazing-all the men in morning suits and all the women in hats. It was like I woke up in Pygmalion, I couldn't believe it.
We were walking around, and then a security guard-also dressed in a morning suit-came up to me.
"Excuse me madame, but you cannot drink the champagne here." he said brusquely.
"I'm sorry?" I asked. "I'm right next to the bar."
"Yes madame I know, but Prince Charles is about to exit here, and you cannot drink in front of him."
Well by God! I gulped down the glass, threw it away, and lo and behold out comes Prince Charles 6 feet in front of me, gets into his car, gives us a wave, and leaves.
Blimey.
The (possible) future King of England just drove by me, and apparently I am not allowed to drink in front of him.
Don't believe me? Check out the driver here:
We watched the next race by the race track (with Peter nervously warning me that I would not be popular for yelling obscenities if my horse won or lost, that this was the "polite clapping section" only), and I dutifully politely clapped when my horse came in 12th.
The day ended soon enough-after the last race, we were due to go to dinner but I bunked out of it since I really wanted to go home and share my day with Mr. Y (who was not in the best of moods from work and from me asking too many repetitive questions, and I think I failed to cheer him up). The group was due to go to the grandstand with the rest of the Royal Meeting and sing songs like "Rule Britannia", "Land of Hope and Glory" and "God Save the Queen". Since the tune of "God Save the Queen" is, to me, "My Country Tis of Thee", I didn't really think singing was my kind of thing.
I left and headed back to the trains, feeling a bit drunk and a bit happy. When I changed trains in Reading, people stopped and stared at me as I walked down the platform in The Dress and The Hat, and nodded to each other.
"Ascot." they said to each other,
Ascot indeed. I survived. As to my adventure, I have a beautiful dress to show for it. I proved that this little white American girl who spent most of her early life in Air Force housing and other parts of her life in poverty can clean up pretty and appear to be a complete lady (except when my horse wins). And above all, I have seen something that I never in my wildest dreams thought I would do, so all in all I am very pleased that I went.
And I only lost 20 pounds in betting, so that can't be too bad.
-H.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
08:46 AM
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