Usually, it takes me a day or so to recover from the annual orgy that is the Preakness, but this year it took two extra days because I got sick in the process. Not sick as in too much julep, too much rich food, yak in the bushes sick, but sick as in sore throat and imploding sinuses sick. I spent most of Sunday a complete zombie, sickness combined with hangover, and somehow staggered into school on Monday.

I took Tuesday off.

While this year's Preakness party was not one of the larger for which I've had the delight to act as host, it had some interesting combinations.

There were a lot of old friends present; most of whom had attended all of my previous Preakness Day parties. There was, however, one old friend who'd just moved back to the country and hadn't been my guest for nearly fifteen years. John and his beautiful bride Saori were the hit of the evening (what did you expect from a Sig Ep?).

Of course quite a few newer friends were in attendance as well. I've encountered a whole new group of extremely interesting people since I changed careers, and they were well-represented on Saturday.

I had a few people who had never before encountered a mint julep and were intrigued with the idea, and particularly the ritual involved in the making thereof. They were all taken somewhat aback when they found themselves rather drunk after three of them.

The "auslander" were all surprised to learn that Baltimore is quite as obsessed with our Preakness as Louisville is with her Derby.

Since I don't impose a dress code for the party, it was all over the place. Some ladies wore pretty summer dresses; I forsook fashion for my standard-issue shorts.

I also realized, after an inordinate number of juleps and other things (a few beers before the party started and bourbon-and-cokes afterwards) that this was the tenth anniversary of this party. My first Preakness party was in 1996. I remember this because it coincided with the fifth anniversary of my graduation day. I wish now that I'd remembered that before the party, so that I could have reminded a few people of the significance, but...oh, well, there are better things to do with my time.

We seem, however, to have established a new tradition. Last year, after the party, a select few of us trooped up to the roof. This year, quite a few made it up there (after my small meltdown when it was discovered that one of the cats had gone missing--I believed that he'd escaped when some people went up to the roof, but as it turns out, he wormed into the basement when I went down to grab a couple of extra bottles of wine). This, clearly, is the new tradition of Preakness Day: those who are still able to get to the roof at midnight must do so!

As for "Barbaro" and his rather tragic race: I do feel rather bad for the horse, but--assuming a recovery--he may never race again, but he can look forward to a long life of being put out to stud. There are worse fates than spending the rest of your life doing nothing but getting laid.