Meanwhile, Laurel Park, you ran a "beer special" Thanksgiving Friday, but each bar we hit at the track it was only like two kinds of beer being poured, and the rest of the taps were, well, tapped out, you know? Would it kill you to change some kegs? In terms of bar service, I got in right before Post Time for a race and I thought I would grab myself a beer before I hit the betting window, but the bar I stopped at featured a Bartender deeply involved with her Cellular Telephone, oblivious to the Outside World, featuring: Customers. So I skipped the beer and made my bet, then I went to a different bar where I was informed as to the whole tapped-out situation, and I had to drink pumpkin beer. Laurel Park, you made me drink pumpkin fucking beer against my will, and if I was gonna be able to walk out and convene with my pals on the rail (Hierarchy of Needs Category: Love and Belonging) and make myself a Leftover-Turkey Sandwich, I would be Philosophical about your Beer Failure, but you don't want me to be Self-Actualized, you want me to buy the food you sell at the track, but guess what? Nobody goes to the fucking track to have a Meal, man, the only food you eat at the track is of the Incidental and Traditional variety, like a slice of Pizza, for example, on the Day After Thanksgiving, see? Anybody bringing in Leftover Turkey is not going to be deterred from grabbing that Palate-Cleansing slice of Pizza, see? A Turkey Sandwich is never gonna stand between me and a slice of Pizza, fools! I'm getting one no matter what! It's is on my Hierarchy of Needs!