Moving on up to the grandstands Updated 3:35 p.m. | The two twenty-something friends stood by the rail overlooking the track, one sipping her Black Eyed Susan and adjusting her fancy hat.
Ursula Villar, 28, and Keisha Campbell, 29, had just dined on crab cakes and steak in the CBS corporate tent. It was the first Preakness for both. After this, the infield just won't be an option.
"We now expect VIP treatment," said Villar, who works in marketing for Goodwill Industries of the Chesapeake.
"Where's the red carpet?" joked Campbell, who works in admissions at the University of Baltimore.
Villar said she planned to place some bets on a later race.
"I like the long shots and any horse with a funny name," she said. But even better than the chance to win, there's the chance to dress up.
"You have an excuse to wear a fancy hat that I'll never wear again," she said.
-- Lorraine Mirabella
O'Malley is partial to O'Prado Updated 3:10 p.m. | Hours before the Preakness Stakes, Tom Chuckas, president of the Maryland Jockey Club, gave Gov. Martin O'Malley a tour of the stables. The duo strolled toward the Stakes barn, which O'Malley later described as "chapel-like calm."
"We're trying to give the horses their space," O'Malley said. They peered inside the long green barn and saw the stables of First Dude and Paddy O'Prado. The latter horse is an O'Malley family favorite, given their Irish Heritage. O'Malley's 14-year-old niece, a horse rider herself, Theresa Schempp, 14, accompanied the group. "Irish all the way," she said when asked why she favors Paddy O'Prado. But O'Malley said "part of me wants Super Saver" to win, because of the possibility of the Triple Crown.
Todd Pletcher, who trained Derby winner Super Saver, shook hands with the governor, who congratulated the New York-based trainer. "Are you feeling good?" O'Malley asked him. "Yes, sir, very good," Pletcher replied.
-- Julie Bykowicz
Hold on to your hat; It's a little windy Updated 2:50 p.m. | Sunny skies, warm but not-too-warm temperatures and a light breeze had many Preakness attendees commenting on the perfect weather. But the breeze proved a bit too strong at times for women in hats, particularly the broad-brimmed variety worn in the fancy, corporate area of the infield.
Geri Welch, 49, of Hampstead, had to keep one hand on her wide black hat with black feathers to keep it atop her head.
A real hat lady -- her mother and grandmother would have qualified -- would know how to take care of that problem. But Welch, who works at a lawn-care company and sports baseball caps the other 364 days of the year, didn't dare resort to the hat pins they used.
"I'm not brave enough to stick hat pins in," she said. "I'd end up poking myself."
-- Laura Vozzella
For Preakness bugler, practice makes perfect Updated 2:43 p.m. | How'd Preakness bugler Sam Grossman get to old Hilltop?
Practice.
"I wish I could tell you I wandered into a pawn shop after a few martinis, picked up this shiny thing, called my mom and said, 'I think I'm the bugler at the racetrack,'" Grossman, 44, of Long Island.
The guy who will play the call to the post 13 times Saturday on a herald trumpet festooned with a Preakness flag has undergraduate and master's degrees in music. He was teaching music at a Catholic school in New York before he tried out 17 years ago to be a race bugler -- a job that came open up there when the incumbent hit the Big Six.
He's been playing at three New York tracks ever since, and for the past three years, has come down to Maryland to be Preakness bugler, a job he does in traditional English fox-hunting costume of white britches, red blazer and tie.
"A 12-year-old could play that one tune," he said. "But the thing I told them is, 'I'll show up every day.'"
-- Laura Vozzella
Surreal scenes from the infield Updated 2:18 p.m. | In the infield, three blondes sat with green cloths draped around their necks, as if they were about to get haircuts or a touch-up on their roots.
Their images were projected onto a screen and, through the magic of "green-screen technology, their heads appeared atop three shimmying bodies dancing to the Black-Eyed Peas' "Boom Boom Pow."
They left with free DVD copies of their performance.
Meanwhile, young people bellied up to an oxygen bar and willingly strapped on the sort of plastic facial tubing that looks so sad in a nursing home but passed for hip in the Preakness infield.
They breathed in and got what was supposed to be an energizing breath of fruity, fresh oxygen.
"Lavender was OK. Spearmint burns your nose," declared Mark Rettig, 31, an arborist from Baltimore County,. "I think it's a farce but you've got to try everything once."
Mike Schifano, 23, a Penn State college student who lives near Scranton, took a breath of the allegedly almond-scented oxygen. It was billed as an appetite suppressant.
"That's a good thing. I'll save money," he said.
But he didn't pick up on the scent, much less it's reputed hunger-curbing qualities. So he tried wintergreen.
"It was, like, chewing gum," he said. "I looked incredibly goofy doing it. I guess it's all part of the experience."
-- Laura Vozzella
Top Chefs hit the Preakness Updated 2 p.m. | High-society patrons took a time out from the horse racing to watch a cooking demonstration by reality television stars the Voltaggio brothers. The duo is making soft-shell crab sandwiches throughout the day.
Bryan Voltaggio also prepared mayonnaise to serve with the crab, blending it with help from an aerating gadget that could had from a hardware store. The gadget eliminated the need to do a lot of whisking, said Michael Voltaggio, who provided play-by-play as his brother made the mayo.
"You can save your energy for something else," Michael Voltaggio said. "Guys -- you know what I'm talking about."
He quickly added: "Helping your wife around the house."
-- Laura Vozzella and Julie Bykowicz
From Mug Club to Bucket Club? Updated 12:30 p.m. | After waiting in line at the Mug Club garden for 40 minutes, Keith Carrier and his three friends decided to take matters into their own hands. "We were not happy with the way it was going," he said.
Carrier stole a metal bucket from the Mug Club and took it to another beer stand. He sweet talked the bartender into filling the bucket with beer for $10, and spent the next few minutes strolling around the infield, taking swigs from the bucket.
"It's the greatest investment I've ever made at the Preakness," said Carrier, a 22 year old who lives in Harrisburg, Pa. "I want us all recognized for this feat."
-- Sam Sessa
Infield is lively but under control, police say Updated 12:15 p.m. | By noon the infield was a sea of booze, music and bikini contests. But the large party, complete with beech volley ball and organized beer pong tournaments, was a party in control.
"Good turnout, a couple intoxicated but no incidents of note," Baltimore police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi wrote in a text message.
Police were posted around the infield but at noon most were people watching, drinking water and munching on sandwiches.
Police Commissioner Frederick H. Bealefeld III plans to tour the infield around 2:30 this afternoon. But a former top cop beat him there. Edward T. Norris, dressed in a half tux and dark shades, was on stage with scantily dressed young women. He was judging the bikini contest.
Thirsty for more, but stuck in line Updated 12:01 p.m. | The new Mug Club deal is drawing mixed reviews from patrons. At 11:30 a.m., dozens of infield partiers with empty mugs waited in line outside the Mug Club garden near the Jagermeister stage.
"I've been waiting in line half the time," said Mike Fine, a 27 year old who lives in Towson. Fine, who arrived at the infield at 9:30, had his mug refilled three times in two hours.
The line moved sporadically, with security guards letting spurts of people through every few minutes. Inside the beer garden, people camped out with chairs and blankets, drinking beer from their red plastic mugs.
The reason for the delays? The fire marshall was monitoring the beer garden's capacity, according to event supervisor Michael Johnson.
"It was too packed in here," he said.
The waits seem to be preventing binge drinking, though some enterprising youths have found a solution. They're chugging their beer as soon as they get it and quickly demanding another.
"Morale is not what it should be," said Brian Polis, 21, also a College Park student
A city paramedic said he hasn't treated anyone all day. "This is nothing like it was when you could bring kegs and coolers in here."
-- Sam Sessa and Peter Hermann
Finding love at the Preakness Updated 11:39 a.m. | They had their first date at Pimlico in 1988.
When Margaret Lake picked six winners, Stewart Levine said, "That's the girl for me."
The retired couple and avid horse racing fans from Hood, Va., returned to their usual spot at turfside and were hoping Lookin at Lucky would get lucky.
"He taught me how to handicap," said Lake, arm in arm with her husband and decked out in a purple and white dress and white hat made by a hat maker for the occasion, more elegant than the baseball cap and poncho she ended up wearing for a rainy Kentucky Derby. "This was supposed to be my Derby outfit."
Levine, a retired UPS driver, met his wife after taking out a classified ad seeking someone "to horse around with."
The approach worked.
"He was into racing, and I was into riding," Lake said.
The couple, who own a stake in a racehorse, still love the sport and never miss a Preakness.
"The Preakness is a tradition," said Levine, who said he graduated years ago from the infield to the grandstand. "It's just a lark."
-- Lorraine Mirabella
Neighbors near Pimlico ready for more infield fans Updated 11:26 a.m. | Pimlico's neighbors were up bright and early on Preakness Day, taking part in the neighborhood ritual of loaning out their yards and driveways as parking spaces.
"It's going to be a good day, I can feel it," said Terry Davis, whose been selling parking spaces at his home on Hayward Avenue for 15 years. "The sun is out, couldn't ask for a better day."
But, it's not good weather that Davis was praying for this year.
He wanted to make more than the measly $150 that he made from sales at last year's Preakness, when attendance plummeted due to a ban on attendees bringing alcohol. In years past, Davis said he made at least $600 selling the spaces at $20 and $30 a piece.
"Last year was horrible," Davis said, upon returning from parking his fourth car at around 10:30 a.m.
"It's a hard economy, and I just didn't make nothing. It was bad."
But it's not only the money brings Davis out to court the first of the Preakness crowds.
"This is a ritual for me," he said, before running off to flag a car.
"It's our neighborhood tradition. I wouldn't miss it."
-- Erica Green
BYOB lives ... just in the parking lot Updated 11:09 a.m. | Infield revelers might not be able to bring their own outside beverages anymore, but that didn't stop them from pre-gaming in Pimlico's parking lots. At 10 a.m., Nick Zemil, a 22-year-old senior at the University of Maryland College Park, stood in a grassy lot and sipped a can of Natural Light with two of his friends.
"We found this lot and figured, 'Let's set up camp,'" he said.
Zemil attended two Preaknesses, but skipped last year when the Maryland Jockey Club banned outside beverages from the infield. This year's bottomless mug deal -- all you can drink for $20 -- lured him back, he said. His two companions had never been to Preakness before.
"They're loosening up the rules a little bit, and I thought I'd enjoy it," he said. "I'm here with a bunch of Preakness virgins. We're trying to bring it back."
Ainsley Ashton, a junior at the University of Pittsburgh, drove to Pimlico from the Wilmington area with seven of her friends to see the rock band O.A.R. None of them had been to Preakness before, and only two bought Mug Club tickets. They stood in a parking lot outside the race course, drinking Bloody Marys. Though Ashton had never been to Pimlico before, she usually watches on TV, she said, and has some idea of what the infield is going to be like later today.
"I feel like it's going to be a good college scene, with all of the socialites up in the stands," she said.
-- Sam Sessa
People watching trumps horse racing Updated 11:03 a.m. | Even in the infield the race still matters. But maybe not to the folks running Pimlico.
In one spot where you could actually see the horses and people actually cared about a winner, the JumboTron showed people in the stands instead of one of the 12 early races before the Preakness.
"I bet, and I can't see nothing," said Randy Tipton of Middle River, attending his 28th Preakness. "They got a big TV, and all they're showing are peoples heads."
Dozens yelled profanities as they strained to see across the track to the boards displaying the winning horses. "Who won?" one man shouted.
"Who knows?" Tipton said. "I sent my father to find out."
Super Saver profile leads off Preakness TV on NBC Updated 10:19 a.m. | NBC's coverage of the Preakness Stakes starts at 4:30 p.m. today, and it leads off with an outstanding look at the Kentucky-Derby-winning horse, Super Saver, and the team that surrounds him.
Even if you are only slightly interested in horse racing (I am no fan), I predict you will be impressed and caught up in this production from Emmy-Award-winners Rob Hyland and Jack Felling. The feature they did last year on Derby winner Mine That Bird won the Eclipse Award for best television feature. Read more on the Z on TV blog
-- David Zurawik
The beer starts flowing and it's not even 10 a.m. Updated 9:45 a.m. | Even before 10 in the morning the line at one beer tent stretched out into the infield. Several hundred people all with $20 bills in hand were waiting for their bottomless cups of beer.
One 23 year old had his first promptly at 8:30 a.m. and was on number five by 9:45 a.m.
"First out the gate," he said.
Added his friend, "We'll lose count soon enough."
The bikini contest was still more than an hour away.
-- Peter Hermann
Crowd light as gates open Updated 9:40 a.m. | John Kilpatric and others from the Frederick American Legion had boarded two school buses at 6:45 Saturday to head to Pimlico to be volunteer ushers and get a chance to watch the race up close.
Kilpatric squinted in the sun as he surveyed the track from the Grandstand apron, just steps from the track. Most of the rows of folding chairs were still empty. But two couples, including one woman in a dress and heels, settled in and began organizing the food they'd brought in.
"I've never been to a Preakness in my life," said Kilpatric, an unemployed cook who said he used to clean out horse stalls while growing up in exchange for riding lessons. "I used to bet the ponies like crazy, but I quit in the '90s. I come to watch the horses. I love horses."
He said he jumped at the chance to come to the Preakness for free.
"For Maryland, this is like getting the Super Bowl," he said. "This is the Super Bowl for Maryland."
Fellow usher Mike Long led a group of the volunteers, dressed in green shirts, along the rows of folding chairs in the section, in front of the grandstand and said, "This is the place to be." When he was first asked to volunteer he said, "A horse race? Are you kidding me," he said. That was 14 years ago and he's been back as a volunteer usher every year.
He said the folks who sit in the seats in front of the grandstand, seemingly in reaching distance to the track, pay $175 a ticket and know how to have a good time. By race time, he said, the neat rows are haphazardly arranged and "the party starts."
When the gates opened at 8 a.m., the first of the spectators filed in through security checks, along with ushers and food service workers. Inside, vendors had "Get your Preak On" t-shirts arranged on tables and bartenders set up their stands with $8 Black Eyed Susans, and Orange Crushes, the drink specials of the day.
-- Lorraine Mirabella
Come early, leave early Updated 9:30 a.m. | The gates to Pimlico have barely opened and where do you find your city councilman?
Sitting at a table, of course, in the race track concourse, poring over a racing form and counting out money for bets.
That's what Robert W. Curran has been doing for years. He wakes up, drives to Pimlico, parks in his secret spot in the neighborhood and beats the race track crush. "The only Preakness I've missed was Secretariat," he said, wearing a Domino Sugar baseball cap and a yellow racing shirt.
His fondest Preakness moment was 1980 when he won an exacta with Codex beating out the Kentucky Derby winner Winning Colors. There was a challenge, and Curran had to sweat it out in the hot infield for 20 minutes before the ruling came back in his favor. He collected more than a $1,000 on his bet.
Of course, that was in his younger years, when the infield was better known for beer and fun than beer and debauchery. After 20 years of that, he retired to the grandstand. Now, he doesn't even stay for the races.
"I'll be out of here by 10," he said, smiling.
Is that 10 p.m.?
The councilman meant 10 a.m.
He comes, he handicaps, he bets on all the races and he leaves. At home, he's got friends, food and the Preakness on TV.
His pick in today's feature race? First Dude.
First Dude is not named after Maryland's First Dude, Gov. Martin O'Malley, a Democrat, whose wife is Curan's niece. Rather, this First Dude is named for Todd Palin, the husband of Sarah Palin, definitely not a Democrat.
-- Peter Hermann