I grew up in Louisville, but I have never attended the Kentucky Derby. A Baptist preacher’s kid wasn’t allowed to go to a horse race where everyone gambled and drank alcohol. Above all, a Baptist preacher’s kid wasn’t allowed to go to the infield, where everyone was plastered and rowdy, and women flashed their boobs for beer. We went to private parties with our friends instead, where the beer was free and the flashing was just for fun.
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I almost went the year after I graduated from college. My friend Melissa and I made plans to go. That was the weekend that I learned my monetary value.
I lived in Nashville at the time, and I drove up to Louisville for the weekend. She put in a request for vacation time. When Derby weekend arrived, her boss asked her to work in return for a comp day. She said, “I can’t. My friend Christy is coming up, and we are going to the Derby.”
Her boss offered her time and a half. She said, “I can’t. My friend Christy is coming up, and we are going to the Derby.”
Her boss offered her double pay and a free holiday of her choice. She said, “Christy, I have some good news and some bad news….”