Qatar Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe

This man on the left takes social
codes very seriously.

Today at Hippodrome de Longchamp we attended free of charge (due to our hats) the Qatar Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe, one of the biggest horse racing events of the year with a purse of 4 000 000 Euros. There were nine races. The most momentous was supposed to be race 6 but for Thais and I, it was race 5.

 Sara left with Karen for the train station when Thais and I made an unsuccessful endeavor to visit the stables. Nevertheless, I remained optimistic because the four of us had already been escorted into the VIP area by a friendly security guard. My straw hat and Forever XXI dress tottered awkwardly among the designer gowns and costly plumed hats of the strutting women. Eventually we managed to access the stables but after our first failed attempt, Thais and I settled outside crowded stands on the white fence at the beginning of the straightaway to watch race 5. As the eight horses stretched out for the final sprint, Number 6, Dever Dream, stumbled in front of our postion in the gravel parking lot and his yellow clad jockey leaped from his back. The bay horse alternated between sinking to his knees and rearing in pain. As an ambulance, the trainer, and the owner ran across the green to the horse, I saw the horse’s front left hoof swinging, nearly severed, from his foreleg. I watched in immoveable horror until they forced the horse down to inject him. Turning my back to face Thais’s quivering lip and equally wet and reddened eyes, I hardly noticed her fingers pinching my arm in a self-conscious effort to relieve the animal of some of his pain.

Convincing Thais to pet the horse.

David

Later in the afternoon, again in the VIP section and sat despondently near the entrance of the paddock. Physically and emotionally drained, we ignored the man in the suit who plumped down nearby. After our conversations with the security guards and my previous night at Nuit Blanche Paris, Thais and I were convinced that all men here, though appearing helpful, will inevitably ask for your number or more. Ironically, “David” left us happy when guided us into the stables—he wasn’t supposed to be there either—took our pictures, and bid A bientôt without asking for our contact information. It cheered him (he lost a lot of money) to cheer us.