Less than three weeks to post

A Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman film from a few years back put the phrase 'bucket list' permanently into the American lexicon.
I'm sure many of you have thought since then, or perhaps prior, what sorts of things you might put on that list yourselves.
Skydiving?
That would be on mine for sure.
Traveling to a far-flung place like Africa, New Zealand, or India?
Yep, that would be cool.
Doing a half ironman?
Gonna check that one off in a few months.
How about the Kentucky Derby?
I'll pass, thanks.
My dad took me for a horse ride years ago at Camp Henry in Newaygo, Michigan. Apparently he had forgotten that possibly my worst allergy was to horses - so when we arrived back at camp, I could barely see the shock and horror on my mother's face through my swollen eyelids. I wore a pair of 70's mirrored ski sunglasses the rest of the weekend to hide the grotesque sight of what the ride had done to me. To this day I don't hold it against my dad, never really have. I mean, I'm just as likely to do something like that to my daughters, being the forgetful guy that I am. In fact, I think I already have come to think of it. When Addie was only about a year or two, I accidentally gave her a full-on helping of pureed peas while on a road trip to Michigan. It was getting to be dark out, and I couldn't see her face in the backseat as she began to cry. When we flipped the interior car lights on, I realized her face had become swollen after eating all the peas, which caused a full on freakout from Ann, and a quick stop at a tollway oasis to administer some benadryl. Thankfully she was fine before we even reached Grand Rapids. But I digress.
I don't like horses.
Would I love the chance to spend a weekend imbibing with some of our best friends, without kids? Absolutely. And for that I'm stoked.
But it turns out, the price of admission to this Louisville Fun Fest is much higher than you can possibly imagine. I'll spare you the details of just how much it's going to cost us to witness this legendary horse race. Suffice it to say that I have probably paid less for ALL of the tickets to U2 shows I've ever purchased. And that's just to get a comfy metal chair to sit on for 6 hours. We're off to a good start.
Turns out, no ordinary wardrobe is allowed at this old-timey people watching extravaganza.
I've watched Ann spend countless hours not only choosing a dress and devising ways to turn her already nice Derby hat into a spectacle of spring. I've even been treated to tales of Derbys past, where infield revelers buried kegs in the infield a month before the race, sneaking in with some Boy Scouts to camp for the night and stash their precious beer cargo, only to dig it up on race day. Or the one about women pulling their bra inserts from the push-up bras, and replacing them with baggies of vodka to stay hydrated during the day of racing. Wow. Now THAT I would like to see.
But it turns out, even guys have to live up to a dress code standard - so the usual all-day-drinking attire of shorts and comfortable sandals will be getting replaced by khaki pants, socks and sucks-to-wear-them-all-day dress shoes. And a fruity-looking purple shirt and new tie, just to make sure I match the ensemble being worn by my lovely bride. Awesome.
Did I mention how hot and humid it usually is in early May in Kentucky?
Now the appeal factor is going through the roof. I mean, who wouldn't lay down some serious coin to take part in something like that? I can only imagine that the price of a beer at Churchill Downs will make Wrigley prices look like the last day of a garage sale.
My buddy Jim, one of the friends we'll be with that weekend, replied this way to a recent email of mine about the insane expenditures happening in advance of this momentous SweatAPalooza...
"Just roll with it."
OK, I'm game I guess.
At least I won't have anyone under the age of 10 trying to wake me up on Sunday morning.
Then again, I'll need to rise and shine so I can put another check mark on that list..