Day at the Races
I walked through a concrete archway and found myself on a set of bleachers overlooking a dirt racetrack.
People were quickly filing into the stands, many stopping at the betting station or concession stand before finding their seats. I explored the area for a little while, and eventually went to stand in front of a seat that appeared to be unreserved.
I made small talk with the people on either side of me.
Soon, some indistinguishable announcements echoed over a PA system, a fanfare sounded, and then, with the pop of a starter pistol, a strange sight met my eyes:
A middle-aged man, somewhat tall and fairly skinny, wearing light blue running shorts and a tank top, and looking very obviously panicked and confused, came running out of a doorway onto the track as quickly as he could. Large beads of sweat were already running down his forehead.
Several paces behind the runner there sped a kindly looking older man wearing an aviator's helmet and driving a little black motor-scooter.
In between the two men, a little brown monkey scampered after the jogger across the dirt track, alternately eyeing the man frantically running away from him and the animal trainer driving the scooter behind him.
As the monkey closed in on the jogger, people in the stands cheered loudly. The jogger, however, looked back, saw the monkey rapidly approaching, and lurched forward with all his strength. The monkey faltered, and hopped up onto the front of the motor scooter just before it would have passed him. More noise erupted from the stands.
The loudspeakers barked some more.
Wanting to get in on the action this time, I worked my way down to the betting booth, and placed a $50 bet for the monkey in the next race. By the time I made it back up to my seat, I looked down to see the monkey sitting on top of a new dazed runner's shoulders. The man stood in the middle of the track blankly, as the monkey picked at his hair. The crowd cheered.
At the betting counter, I handed the clerk my ticket, and she responded, "Congratulations, sir. 3:1 odds on that race. Currently your payout is $149, but may increase depending on hwo many people collect. Would you like to cash out now or wait?"
I opted to take the $149 right then, and collect any possible difference another time. Checking a computer terminal only a few minutes later showed that my balance had increased to $170 total.
"May I go ahead and collect the other $21 now?" I asked the clerk. "Sure, sir. Just check with the cashier around the corner."
Thinking she meant the corner of the hallway, I started walking away.
"Where are you headed? Right here," the clerk shouted after me, and pointed to a terminal just behind her.
Walking over to where she pointed, I discovered that the "cashier" was a machine somewhat like an ATM, where I could enter my ticket number and retrieve my remaining cash.
Pocketing the money, I mused to myself, "Man, my friends are going to love this. Monkey races. Too funny. I can't wait to bring them."
People were quickly filing into the stands, many stopping at the betting station or concession stand before finding their seats. I explored the area for a little while, and eventually went to stand in front of a seat that appeared to be unreserved.
I made small talk with the people on either side of me.
Soon, some indistinguishable announcements echoed over a PA system, a fanfare sounded, and then, with the pop of a starter pistol, a strange sight met my eyes:
A middle-aged man, somewhat tall and fairly skinny, wearing light blue running shorts and a tank top, and looking very obviously panicked and confused, came running out of a doorway onto the track as quickly as he could. Large beads of sweat were already running down his forehead.
Several paces behind the runner there sped a kindly looking older man wearing an aviator's helmet and driving a little black motor-scooter.
In between the two men, a little brown monkey scampered after the jogger across the dirt track, alternately eyeing the man frantically running away from him and the animal trainer driving the scooter behind him.
As the monkey closed in on the jogger, people in the stands cheered loudly. The jogger, however, looked back, saw the monkey rapidly approaching, and lurched forward with all his strength. The monkey faltered, and hopped up onto the front of the motor scooter just before it would have passed him. More noise erupted from the stands.
The loudspeakers barked some more.
Wanting to get in on the action this time, I worked my way down to the betting booth, and placed a $50 bet for the monkey in the next race. By the time I made it back up to my seat, I looked down to see the monkey sitting on top of a new dazed runner's shoulders. The man stood in the middle of the track blankly, as the monkey picked at his hair. The crowd cheered.
At the betting counter, I handed the clerk my ticket, and she responded, "Congratulations, sir. 3:1 odds on that race. Currently your payout is $149, but may increase depending on hwo many people collect. Would you like to cash out now or wait?"
I opted to take the $149 right then, and collect any possible difference another time. Checking a computer terminal only a few minutes later showed that my balance had increased to $170 total.
"May I go ahead and collect the other $21 now?" I asked the clerk. "Sure, sir. Just check with the cashier around the corner."
Thinking she meant the corner of the hallway, I started walking away.
"Where are you headed? Right here," the clerk shouted after me, and pointed to a terminal just behind her.
Walking over to where she pointed, I discovered that the "cashier" was a machine somewhat like an ATM, where I could enter my ticket number and retrieve my remaining cash.
Pocketing the money, I mused to myself, "Man, my friends are going to love this. Monkey races. Too funny. I can't wait to bring them."