...play it cool, Stace. Play it cool.
I mean, it was ok.
Yeah, we got to meet some big shot trainers.
Chatted with the owner of West Point Thoroughbreds.
Said hello to itsy bitsy jockeys.
No big whoop.
Thanks to Corey's reporter friend, Claire, we came within inches of at least half a million horses.
Slight exaggeration, I apologize.
On the million part.
Because we were within mere inches.
I was able to resist petting each one (although barely) thanks to a grumpy rider who scolded Corey for swatting at a bee. I figured if the horsies are startled by "BEE!!" dancing they certainly aren't going to like a hand darting out in front of their faces with a crazy person attached to it.
So instead I picked at my lip.