The rapid approach of the Kentucky Derby and all that is associated with it, namely hats, Thoroughbreds and mint julep chug-offs in the infield, reminds us that Baltimore's jewel in the Triple Crown, The Preakness Stakes, is rapidly approaching. The Preakness, over the past two decades, has been the race that horses winning the Kentucky Derby and losing the Belmont Stakes have romped to victory at, in front of 100,000 Baltimoreans and visitors.
However, as any true Preakness fan (not horse racing fan, Preakness fan) will tell you, horses have almost nothing to do with having a good time at what I formerly referred to as, with respect to the Gators and Dawgs, "The World's Largest Outdoor Light Beer Drinking Party." Simply put, the Preakness is not a horse-racing event, but a drinking event for nearly all of the 60,000 drunks who cram themselves into apocalyptic Hobbesian state-of-nature conditions within the chain-link fenced infield at Pimlico. For the life of the Preakness, the infield has been famous for being a place where you can bring as much beer or wine in as you want and leave your cooler, yard chair and dignity in the mud next to someone's kiddy pool full of light beers at the conclusion of the day's racing activities. One Preakness veteran says of last year, "I think I saw one horse all day." The upside of this, of course, is that Preakness is one of the most fun things a college student, or really anyone, could ever do.
That is, until this year. In their rather finite wisdom, the powers that be have ended the practice of allowing fans to bring in their own alcohol, instead opting to sell all beer inside the infield on tap. This is probably the worst news ever. The amount of fun that will be lost as a result of this decision is impossible to overstate. If fun at Preakness is a car, this is sugar in the gas tank followed by blowing up the car and crushing it with a monster truck, melting down the parts and selling them in China. The essence of Preakness infield was drinking with your closest 10 or 11 friends and 59,990 other associates who are available to you, should your conversation lull. At the very least, this will make it difficult for underage Preakness fans to acquire alcohol, which will have a strong deterrent effect on amount of fun had.
This overlooks one of the most important aspects of Preakness: defending your turf. Upwards of 60,000 people are apt to migrate at the whims of Miller Lite, often resulting in encroachment on other people's areas. In fact, if at the end of the day, you can find the lawn chairs you brought in, your day was a success. It takes several large people to anchor an area while friends migrate to the restroom/betting booth/first-aid station as the case may have called for. A typical setup involves a cooler or kiddie pool in the center of a circle of individuals, forming a protective phalanx around the beer and the land. Excursions away from the home turf once required careful planning. Navigating through 60,000 people, of course, is not an easy task, and I state with great certainty that beer will not survive the trip from the tap to home base, because it will be either spilled or drunk. Add in probable 90 degree temperatures, and your Coors Light will be the warmest beer in America, if it is lucky enough to survive.
The decision to go to cups of beer sold inside will also eliminate two separate traditions famous to the Preakness. First, one that has been under fire for a year now: The Running of the Gauntlet. One drunk individual, in so running, climbs aboard a row of portapotties and attempts to run to the other side while being pelted with beer cans and the occasional yard chair (search "Running of the Urinals" on http://www.youtube.com for further information.) Obvious danger aside, this is probably one of the most entertaining things in the world, and now it's gone forever. The other tradition has a less formal name, but could accurately be described as "Throwing Open Cans of Light Beer as High and Far as You Can, Knowing That You Will Never Get In Trouble for It." Reasons for this range from failing to expose oneself to strangers and mob mentality, but alas, it will be no more as well.
The Preakness Infield Crowd is famous for a blue-collar beer-drinking mentality, unlike the elitists funneling old-fashioneds at Churchill Downs. This feeling of goodwill towards one's light beer-drinking neighbor, even if he's drinking Natty Light, has been eviscerated by this decision. With Pimlico up for sale and powerful interests trying to move the Preakness out of Baltimore, it's a sad day for all Preakness fans when they will have to buy their own beer inside the Infield.
