Even if you are not a big fan of horse racing, the 2015 Preakness Stakes in Baltimore was nothing less than thunderous. Imagine, if you will, a mild-mannered scholar, spending a gentle, spring afternoon reading a book. Suddenly, the NOAA Weather Radio goes off with a screech, warning that the world is coming to an end in a few minutes.
On cue, the skies darken, street lamps brighten, winds pick up, and the NOAA Weather Radio goes off again, saying, essentially, “This is not a drill. Run, you idiot! Hide!” Our entirely imaginary mild-mannered scholar wakes up and thinks to himself: “Wait a minute; aren’t they running the Preakness in a few minutes?”
Turning on the TV, things look bleak 15 miles away at the Pimlico Race Course:
One NBC reporter, interviewing the president of the Preakness Stakes race, asked if the race would still be held. The answer went something like: “We are talking to the fire department. We haven’t been able to reach them. I’m not sure of the conditions. Quite frankly, I can’t even see the track.” Both the reporter and the president looked like they’d taken a shower in their suits. Nobody wondered why they are talking to the fire department about weather instead of, say, the National Weather Service. Also, is it significant that they were both at the edge of the racetrack and couldn’t see the track?
Then things got worse, as an order went out to evacuate the infield. Of the 131,000 fans in attendance, roughly 130,000 of them were holding a party in the infield, and with Preakness hats and race programs flying in the sudden gale, there was a frantic rush for shelter. The race president assured a reporter that “everyone would be able to get under cover.”
“Cover,” in this case, meaning huge plastic tents propped up with metal poles in the middle of the flat infield, stout protection from a rapidly approaching thunderstorm. You could hear the thunder over the TV (when you could hear the TV; our mild-mannered scholar had plenty of thunder outside his home).
Remember all those lectures about being outside during a thunderstorm? Imagine the in-tent conversations:
“Don’t lean on the pole; it’s metal.”
“Don’t stand next to him; he’s so tall, he’s a lightning rod.”
“Don’t stand next to her; with all that gold jewelry, you’re bound to get fried.”
“Will my implants cause problems if there is lightning?” (Crowd moves away.)
“I had my teeth repaired in Russia. Do you think the stainless steel fillings will be a problem?” (Crowd moves farther away.)
“Is this tent tornado proof?”
Fortunately, there were no tornadoes, no lightning hit the course, and American Pharaoh swam to a second win in the Triple Crown.
A future foal should be named Sea Horse.
