Aside from the foot pain, the day was a blast. It seemed like not many people were actually there for the horses; most people just stood around, drank champagne and watched each other. And the people watching was excellent. I learned that just because there is a dress code doesn't mean that everyone will interpret said code in the spirit in which it was meant. For example: ladies were advised to wear hats or fascinators and "should dress as for a smart occasion." After viewing some major fashion disasters, my conclusion is that it might be prudent to be a bit more specific in the future. Something along the lines of:
Ladies should wear cocktail dresses, or dresses suitable for an afternoon tea or wedding or other smart occasion. Please note that skin-tight dresses more appropriate for a nightclub are not advised. Neither are neon colors of any sort. We would especially like to discourage any outfit which could be viewed by others as a joke - yes, we are talking to you, woman who wore the 70s-style burnt-orange jumpsuit, without a hint of irony or embarrassment. Also, we strongly advise that ladies wear clothing appropriate for one's actual size, not the size which one hopes to be.
Moving on from the fashion, I tried an experiment in socialization. Having lived in England for 4 years prior to my stint here in Germany, I can safely say I'm quite attuned to the social mores and the general behavior of the English. That doesn't stop me pushing boundaries for my own amusement. So I sat there on a bench and waved my champagne glass at passing gentlemen, with a polite (but a bit loud) "Hello!" Most refused to make eye contact, or paused, blushed and then hurried away looking confused. The few who did stop to answer tended to look extremely pained. Out of about 30 people who walked by, only one man stopped to have a chat with me and the friend sat next to me on the bench. And even that was a bit strange and stilted. The English just do not do small talk, and they do not do overt displays from strangers. I can say with 100% certainty that had I performed the same experiment at an American race track (or any sporting event, really), I would have found myself with more people to talk to than I could handle.
The train ride back was jam packed with people, most of whom were inebriated and soaking wet from the rain. I managed to get a seat but not before being pushed nearly to the floor of the train by a stampede of people behind me. I had to throw a few 'bows to prevent being trampled. For some reason the train decided to proceed at a snail's pace (seriously, even I with my abused feet could have run faster at some points), which led to a group in front of me deciding to play "I, Spy" to pass the time. I'll start with saying that they didn't know how to properly play the game. Instead of saying "I spy something that starts with the letter K" (for example), they were doing weird things like "I spy something that starts with M T S" or some such. I wasn't really following along too closely until one of the group decided that the best (and only) answer for every query was to yell, "PENIS!" We had nearly 35 minutes of "PENIS" before we got back to Richmond station. Gotta love the English - won't say a word to you when sober, but can be guaranteed to be fifty shades of inappropriate when drunk.
We fortified ourselves with a nice dinner and took the bus from dinner back to E's house, where we were staying. That's when the fun began. After hobbling to the bus stop, we made the acquaintance of a very strange Indian man who was also waiting for the bus. His first words were "I don't usually get along with upper class women". I think he was referring to our dresses and hats. What he failed to realize was that if we truly were super posh, we most likely would not have been waiting in our bare feet for a bus. He then asked what we did for a living - a few of us were teachers - and this set him off on a monologue about how there was a conspiracy against teachers and how he had proof. We tried to ignore him, but then he got started on how it was all Kate Middleton's fault because she was a socialist and was planning to destroy the country and he used to work for the KGB and the FSB and he had proof - and at this point he pulls out a CD-ROM from the pocket of his jacket (and I mean seriously, who rolls around with a CD-ROM in 2015?!) and waves it around, and starts muttering about socialism and conspiracies and shock treatment.
When we were finally on the bus (he didn't join us, thank goodness), we had a discussion which was along the lines of what if he was right, and it was like the movies where everyone assumes the guy is crazy, but he really is the only one who has uncovered the truth of something nefarious. So maybe Kate Middleton is a socialist hell bent on destroying England. Who knows. What I do know is that he was definitely doing his part to take down the realm with the breath he was sporting. Could have killed whole villages if released in quantity.
I love visiting England - it always feels like my second home. Adding to the excitement was that a friend and I apparently walked right by Josh Hartnett in Soho (she saw him, I didn't) and I nearly ran into Michael Cera on his way out of Heathrow Terminal 2. He looks exactly like he does on TV/in the movies, although he's thinner and shorter than I expected.
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