My press pass allows me access to almost anywhere, which must somehow be a mistake. I'm not a VIP, or even that knowledgable about horses, but nonetheless here I am, with my badge decreeing access to Millionaires' Row, the winners circle, most of the floors where the high rollers wine and dine. No one stops me, waving me through as I tap the badge at every port. In my costume perhaps I look the part -- a Yankee trying to fit in at the border state's most infamous and attended festivus.
May 10, 2016