I went to the Kentucky Derby for the first time. Here’s my experience.

The white rubber soles of my gray Vans carefully navigate patches of mud and puddles of water in the infield of Churchill Downs.

And through the ground, all I can feel is bass.

Rhythms and vibrations of electronic music move through my body just hours before the start of the 148th Kentucky Derby, a sentence that borders on sounding surreal.

I’ve watched the Kentucky Derby for more than a decade on TV, but what’s never been transmitted to me is the sensory stimulation that smacks you aside the head after you enter horse racing’s hallowed ground.

This includes an electronic music DJ set up on a makeshift stage in the infield near turn three, complete with strobe lights, remixed songs and grown men wearing obscure college basketball jerseys (shoutout Doug Edert).

I’m from North Texas originally, Dallas born and Plano raised, before going to Indiana for college, back to the Texas capital, Austin, for my first job and now to Kentucky as a sports reporter for the Herald-Leader.

That’s how I got to Churchill Downs on the first Saturday in May, a seminal sporting moment for so many.

Within minutes of entering the racetrack, it’s clear to me this is going to be a full body experience.

My first visit to the Kentucky Derby is auditory and ocular overload. I was told this would happen.

Sensory overload at the Kentucky Derby

Frankly, I don’t know which sense I should react to first.

Free alcohol of your choosing is offered immediately upon entering Churchill Downs. Beer or Whiteclaw? Perhaps a mint julep in the spirit of the day, although I’ve been dissuaded from getting one.

“Why on Earth does anybody drink mint juleps when Old Fashioneds exist?” a friend texted me Saturday morning.

He is correct. Mint juleps are abhorrent.

The Old Fashioned that followed was immaculate, an ideal combination of bitters and bourbon. The Oaks Lily I guzzled down after that was also smooth.

Perhaps consuming these three drinks in such close succession, and all before 1 p.m., was a bad idea.

Maybe it was the best idea. After all, my first bet did hit.

During this process it becomes clear to me that music will play a big role in the day’s events.

This isn’t mundane racetrack bugling. This is arena music: Lady Gaga, The Killers, Guns N’ Roses, The White Stripes, Bon Jovi, all cranked up loud above the din of an announced crowd of 147,294 people.

It’s a carnival atmosphere, complete with endless lines sprouting up for food and drinks and photos, and seemingly nothing at all.

Something is being filmed in every direction you turn, whether as a live shot broadcast to millions on TV and online, or as social content soon to appear on your feed.

Evidently, one of these was a music video featuring Drake and Louisville native Jack Harlow.

Stop and stare at these distractions at your own peril.

The slightest of hesitations — during the internal debate over whether to be an onlooker or participant — means you either clog up space or you’re asked to take someone’s photo.

I did both.

People watching at the Derby

To the Kentucky Derby I wore my finest attire: A white dress shirt with a skinny dark blue tie, a gray suit jacket, gray dress pants and a beat-to-hell pair of gray Vans that have a hole in the insole below the right heel.

I am a dignified man, who for better and worse has never been to a funeral and only two weddings.

Everybody else goes with something a bit snappier for their Derby attire.

Every flora and fauna and color imaginable is found on clothing, with dresses, hats and suits planned months in advance.

A noticeable addition to the color wheel this year came with camouflage, and the letters FBI emblazoned across the front, a noticeable security presence likely related to the attendance of former President Donald Trump (Trump was shown on the Churchill Downs jumbotron just prior to the Derby, leading to mass cheers and a U-S-A chant).

People watching at the Derby — whether to observe their clothing or their reaction to former political leaders — is probably your best use of time.

Who cares about losing your Pick 4 after just one race (I’m not mad about it, I swear!) when you can stare at a hat with rotating horses on it.

The enjoyment of human observation increases as the day wears on, as the vibes go from jovial and energetic, to labored and lethargic.

At some point, breathing becomes an act worthy of reward.

The legend of the Kentucky Derby infield

The Kentucky Derby infield I encountered was not the one written about so vividly — and often so crudely and inappropriately — by Hunter S. Thompson 52 years ago.

Some elements still ring true.

There are big lines at the outdoor betting windows, and people largely watch the races on the jumbotron, in spirit with Thompson calling that viewing experience a “giant bingo game.”

But it was not, as Thompson typed, a culture shock that took time to adjust to.

The infield is full of people drinking, dancing, huddling in circles shouting above music and leaning against walls on their phones trying to locate friends.

This is not a new experience for me, a 24-year-old man, or probably anyone else.

It may have once been a “huge outdoor loony bin,” as Thompson put it, but it’s at least a loony bin now fit for modern times.

With a swooping glance of the infield from the main grandstand press area, you can see the ethereal glow of strobe lights from the live music stage, branded spaces for Red Bull and Whiteclaw and a sea of humanity lined up to pay $17 for a mint julep (a special kind of Derby Day deal given that most drinks and food came free of charge in the grandstand with a ticket purchase).

Not a normal Kentucky Derby

The sun came out at Churchill Downs after the Derby ended.

It arrived after the shockwaves from Rich Strike’s surreal romp to the roses had settled — mostly — and before the last remnants of the Churchill clientele belted out “Sweet Caroline” as two claiming races closed out the card.

This is where I planned to write that the race itself was secondary, that it took a backseat to the pageantry and prestige that precede and proceed it.

That the sunlight reflected off Churchill Downs in such a way to make it mystical.

I would phrase my words in the image of those spoken by Anthony Bourdain — a lifelong inspiration of mine — so that they washed over the soul like a spring rain shower.

But this wasn’t a normal Derby, and the race day rain that so often falls in Louisville held off this year.

Rich Strike won the Kentucky Derby at staggering odds of 80-1, the second-longest odds for a Derby winner in history.

This year the race mattered, more than anything that came before or after.

So I stared with giddy abandon as Rich Strike paraded in front of the grandstand after his shock win, my losing tickets allowing me the privilege to join fellow spectators stunned into oblivion.

Misery loves company.

The feeling persisted as the final claiming races came and went, and a sun-splashed evening turned to night.

The infield cleared. Track workers began an arduous cleanup project. The march toward metal security gates and a fleet of school buses that serve as transportation to the parking area began.

This process will be repeated next year and the one after, and 150,000 more people will have their senses stimulated beyond the point of exhaustion.

This story was originally published May 8, 2022 at 8:13 AM.

Cameron Drummond

Lexington Herald-Leader

859-242-5257

Cameron Drummond works as a sports reporter for the Lexington Herald-Leader with a focus on Kentucky men’s basketball recruiting and the UK men’s basketball team, horse racing, soccer and other sports in Central Kentucky. Drummond is a second-generation American who was born and raised in Texas, before graduating from Indiana University. He is a fluent Spanish speaker who previously worked as a community news reporter in Austin, Texas. Support my work with a digital subscription