rosé and roadblocks: a day at the races

I took a lot of pleasure today in saying I was “off to the races” and “just back from the races.” Ten of us international moms went to the Royal Ascot this morning, on the hottest day of the year. We had let Ben stay home to avoid a field trip amidst all of his seasonal allergies which have gone haywire like mine, so I benefited from his fashion input as I chose jewelry to match my absurd ensemble. Then off I went to the High Road and a right on Turnham Green Terrace to find a handful of dressy and hatted moms awaiting the minibus we had booked.

It was really fun as more of us arrived and we got to admire everyone’s fashion choices. We also noticed that there were other racegoers in the area in all of their finery, including men in three-piece morning suits and top hats. Incredible to see this kind of fashion out in the wild! Eventually nine of the ten of us made it to the pick-up point for the minibus, and then we took off to pick up the missing one who was stranded at a nearby tube station that had just closed. Finally all ten of us were on our way into the countryside, drinking sparkling rosé that Erin had wisely brought along for the ride.

The English countryside is not built to handle car traffic on this scale, so we hit a huge back-up approaching the racetrack that delayed us a lot. It was worst for Erin because she really needed to pee, and kept threatening to scandalize the nation by peeing along the roadside in all of her finery. Fortunately she was able to make it, and when we finally pulled into the parking lot we were greeted by rows of portaloos. I got a photo with a guy in an amazing purple suit. Then we walked to the nearby Windsor Gate to join the throngs of colorfully attired people making their way to the enclosures.

I’m tight on time so I’m going to quickly give snapshots of the day. We wandered a lot looking for places to relax in the shade, which was really tricky since apparently the Ascot really doesn’t have seating?! In the areas by the racetrack it’s just essentially wide stairs that go up and people can stand, and obviously people can sit but they’re sitting on the ground. In fine suits and brand new dresses. What?! And on the other side of the building, where the bandstand and restaurants are, there’s a very small number of tables and chairs specific to each food stall, and that’s it. So at one point we were unfolding napkins and taking pages out of our race booklets so that we could sit on the ground without feeling disgusting.

The pageantry around the races is genuinely fun. The royal procession had all of the pomp and circumstance one could want, with the beautifully dressed King and Queen riding in their carriage and waving to the crowd. We were in the Queen Anne enclosure which is right next to the Royal Enclosure where the most posh people get to be, and it was fun to watch them milling around in their classy way. Meanwhile in our enclosure were all of the desperate wannabes, including crowds of teenagers who were all dressed in prom-like attire with overdone hair, and drinking heavily. One who looked quite nice at first in purple promptly puked directly onto the carpeted floor.

I spent the majority of my day taking photographs of all of the incredible outfits, and trying to surreptitiously capture my favorites without appearing too intrusive. It’s the type of event where everyone is expecting to have their photo taken and most are hoping to earn it, but the culture is to be discreet about it. It’s funny to experience that kind of event so soon after Burning Nest where the culture is the complete opposite: be present, avoid taking tons of photos, and definitely don’t photograph people without their explicit consent. Ascot is the showiest event I’ve ever been to in my life, and the amount of work that people put into their attention-catching outfits is mind-boggling.

I spent £10 on two horses in the first race, who both lost, but I was satisfied to be able to say that I did some betting. Meanwhile others in our group had some wins, with Dina winning £77 on a single race. We drifted around to different areas of the grounds, including to the fence to watch one race up close, which was very fun for the thundering sound of the horses pounding the ground. There was a lot of energy put into trying to stick together or at least keep track of where people were, which grew more difficult as the day wore on and a few people went hard on the drinks (fortunately not to the purple girl level).

And it was just very, very hot. It was impossible to be out in the direct sun for more than a few minutes at a time without feeling like you were roasting, but since there wasn’t anywhere to sit elegantly we would just find ourselves sprawled out in stupid places like on the ground near the food stalls. Erin loved her neck fan and told us so often, especially after she’d worked her way through more of the rosé. But the rest of us mostly felt sweaty and gross, and I was very glad that I knew to approach this event as a test of physical endurance rather than something relaxing to enjoy. Especially because my heels got worse and worse with the new shoes, the little bit of morning wine made me slightly woozy, lines for the loo were always long, and I eventually just felt dirty from so much sitting on the ground.

Unfortunately the day ended with a lot of drama about how to get home. Our driver had gone across London to do another pick-up and drop-off, but hit unusual amounts of traffic coming back, plus the crazy traffic around Ascot itself. After what felt like an eternity of trying to get ten people (some drunk) to understand the situation and make a decision, we finally decided it was best to make our way towards the train station so that we could either have him pick us up there or we could catch trains home. It wasn’t a long walk but all of us had tired feet, though we made the best of it and enjoyed the pretty forested path and a last chance at viewing some great outfits.

Once we got to the train station, three people ended up calculating that it would save them lots of time to just catch the train instead, so they did. The remaining seven kept an eye on our driver’s progress and a few of the inebriated ones decided to pass the time at a “festival” next to the train station, which was just an opportunistic attempt to get departing racegoers to party a little more. It worked well! By the time our driver was close enough that it made sense to walk to meet him, we had to drag the dancing crew along with us, but managed it. I promised our driver a lot of entertaining conversation on the ride back, and I’m pretty sure we fulfilled that.

When we arrived at Turnham Green Station where we had started our day, Erin, Gina, and Kajsa went straight to the George to continue the good times. Meanwhile everyone else headed home and I ran straight into the tube station to catch a train to London Bridge for my last Burning Pub, even though I felt too hot and foot-pained to want to. But once I made it there it was totally worth it – I got to see a lot of familiar faces and give hugs to some people I don’t think I’ll see again before I fly. I even got to meet one of my Panravia campmates’ identical twin, which was an amusing experience because they’re both really similar and I didn’t even hear she had an identical twin until the last day of Nest.

I tried to slip out unnoticed but the one person who caught me is the security guard there who always has the difficult task of trying to get us all to move inside at 10pm when their outdoor permit ends. He and I had a fun conversation in which he begged me not to move back to SF and I promised to return each month to help him drag everyone inside. Then I did slip away, and, though it would have made sense to head straight home, it was Naila’s birthday party in Hammersmith and I couldn’t literally ride past it without going inside to see her one more time too.

I had to switch to a longer bus ride in order to get to her place, and chatted with a couple of people about the Ascot thanks to my outfit. Then I made it to Naila’s where she was in the midst of the most Naila birthday ever: a buffet of unique homemade delicacies from countries all over the world, a music jam session on hand drums, and an interactive art experience with someone writhing under her stuffed serpents. I sat out on the balcony in the fresh air, talking with some of our mutual friends about Nest and how to survive festival camping in general. Opinions were mixed.

Finally I ordered a car and headed home, just in time to video chat with Jess who had gone to my house and was giving me a tour in anticipation of my return. We ended up making a long list of to-do’s that left me a little bit stressed, but she calmed me down with the wise reminders that it will work out more smoothly than it seems right now. There’s just a lot of big feelings all at once: spending a day at a once-in-a-lifetime event with a group of people I’ll soon be leaving, then going to two other events to say goodbyes, and then coming to my London house to virtually see my SF house. And meanwhile Alene is still nearby, there but not visible, making my whole life right now feel like the strangest mix of old and new. I’m going to try to relax with an evening shower after I happily throw this truly disgustingly dirty dress in the wash!