This past weekend, my sister Kristen and I went to Wellington Florida which is the home of the Winter Equestrian Festival (WEF). We also joined my friend Suzannah Evans from the riding team at UVA. While Suzannah stayed with her family, Kristen and I stayed with our former coach, Kim Prince. Kim is a total rock star and a great Grand Prix rider. Here is her daughter, Lydia Frey.
So, since horse showing and polo playing go all weekend, the big night to party in these circles is Sunday night, because Monday is really the "weekend". After a relatively mild Saturday night at The Breakers (where we saw Liza Minelli), Kristen, Suzannah and I decided to throw down at the Player's Club. We accidentally skipped dinner, and had drinks with Kim and former The Barracks alum, (the one, the only...) Polly Cooley before going out. I was pretty much wasted after a glass of chardonnay. I was also dried up like a raisin from a day of stalking Bruce Springsteen, whose daughter Jessica rides and wins!
I feel compelled to add that, over the weekend, my sister was incessantly remarking that Palm Beach county has a very high percentage of strippers. To her credit, it seemed to make sense. I'm just saying... But they are required to have licenses.
So Kristen, Suzannah and I make it over to the Players Club, quite drunk already and proceed to bounce around, scoping out the scene, which was fascinating to say the least. Polo players and horse show socialites always bring about great viewing pleasure. After hanging out for a while, Kristen and Suzannah go to leave when none other than Val Renihan and Johnny Barker (who are renowned Professional riders in their 50's) literally fell down outside the door as they were kicked out of the bar.
While walking to through the parking lot to the car (in the rain with no sidewalks), some dude, who totally reinvents the word "asshole", tries to RUN US OVER in his 200K Mercedes. I could not believe it. Worth noting, there is a very blonde girl in the car with him who looks 1. like a slut, but 2. like she is mortified. The three of us whip around and start screaming at him which from me included "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" He responds by accelerating at us again. He gets out of the car and yells "ARE YOU THE DUMBEST CUNTS IN THE WORLD?" Which prompts me to respond with my fave: "You're a real fucking gentleman, a real class act!" That line never fails, I'm telling you.
He immediately gets back in the car. I am a mostly nice person and yell to his female passenger, "Girlfriend, you need someone new!", but my vicious sister goes right for the jugular with, "TAKE YOUR STRIPPER AND GO HOME!". As the asshole peals out right next to me, I jump at the Stripper's, I mean girl's, window like I'm about to jump on the car. I also stomped my foot like you do when you're trying to make a horse explode a little on the lunge line. For the next 5 minutes, we laugh hysterically at the whole event. It was truly magical. But sadly, not nearly so funny in writing.
In retrospect, I should have just sat down in the street so he would have had to back up to get out. That would have been genius.
Fast forward to the next morning where I wake up at 5 AM still drunk to go home. Really drunk. And continue to be drunk throughout the plane ride home, where I'm trying not to yakk. Drive to work. I go home after work and can't even stay awake through 24.
Thank you Florida. Pictures coming soon.