Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not a racing fan. Occasionally, I’ll get caught up in the excitement and hometown pride of the whole affair, but it’s not a “sport” I follow at any other time of the year. And this year, especially—the 135th if you’re counting—I’m just not feeling it. When I was little, Derby week was a blast. The public schools are closed on the day before Derby (the Oaks) and there was always inevitably a jockey-silk-themed art project to look forward to. My mom used to work downtown close to the parade route, and she’d pick me up early from after-school daycare so we could get good seats. It’s not just my ever-growing cynicism that doesn’t enjoy the parade anymore; the Derby Festival seems to have seriously declined in quality. There used to be sweet-ass floats with moving parts, celebrities, candy, the works. Everything a good parade should be. It’s just not the same anymore. Ditto for the boat race. I hear the Delta Queen has been replaced by some giant monstrosity with motors so intense that the Belle gets a couple nautical miles’ worth of a headstart. What’s the point?

Part of my anti-Derby hostility relates, I’m sure, to my growing impatience with this town in general. Residual frustration from the ridiculously cold April we had a couple weeks ago, for one. It’s warmer now, and gorgeous outside, but I’m still not over it. Part of it is also the upswing in shitty driving. Some of it is probably Derbymania and sunshine, but the fact of the matter is, Louisvillains can’t ever really drive worth shit. Red lights are reduced to casual suggestions, and turn-signals are voluntary, if not obsolete. I used to scoff at the hillbillies from east of Lexington that claimed they were afraid of driving in Louisville, but now I’ve warned visitors and issued apologies in advance.

I love this town, I really do, but I think I need another vacation.