LOUISVILLE, Ky. — Millionaires circled the sky in private jets and helicopters in the hours preceding the 130th Kentucky Derby. Women wore elaborately decorated hats that were so big they could have nested an entire family of bald eagles, and old men resembling Col. Sanders in pinstriped suits smoked massive cigars.

Celebrities graced the grandstand and owners and trainers of the day’s entrants sat in anticipation watching the eager crowd roll in through the gates as the afternoon pressed forward.

For those who were not fortunate enough to watch the ponies from cushioned seats on Millionaire’s Row at Churchill Downs, there was another option. Ladies and gentleman, I give you the infield.

The infield is the grassy area which lies inside the track itself. It offers its inhabitants the worst view money can buy for the big race, but don’t tell the people there. From what I could tell, they thought the millionaires were the ones missing out.

Walking onto the area where grass used to grow just one day earlier is something everyone should do before dying — regardless of understanding of horse racing — because quite frankly, the race was the last thing on most infielders’ minds.

The scene was complete chaos. An absolute orgy of alcohol had descended upon the crowd since the gates opened at 8 a.m., and by noon, the crowd was thirstier than ever. Women wrestled in the mud, men shook the portable toilets occupied by their friends, and every 40 or so minutes, the horses would run by.

The Kentucky Derby would be the 10th race of the afternoon, and it was scheduled to run at 6:04 p.m. — not exactly just around the corner if you arrived at the gates around 10 a.m., which most infielders did.

As the hour approached, the weight of the afternoon and the length of the day could be seen by looking across the sea of ticket holders, most of whom were covered in mud, thanks to the persistent rain. The rain subsided, and the horses prepared, as did millions of television viewers and gambling junkies across the country, for the Run for the Roses.

Drunken renditions of “My Sweet Kentucky Home” could be heard coming from every corner of the infield as the horses took their positions in the starting gate. The doors of the gate sprung open, and the 3-year olds leaped from the line. And they’re off.

The horses ran. The crowd cheered. The sound of hooves striking the wet track was like gunfire as the horses thundered by. And before most fans even knew the race was under way, it was over. In less than two minutes, 150,000 or so people were satisfied with their afternoon. Some left happy, some disappointed, and some didn’t bet at all, but one thing was certain: The Derby had been run exactly the way it has been run every year since 1875.

After the main event, a few dedicated fans stuck around for the later races, but most of the infield began to clear out just as quickly as it had filled. Kentucky Derby day was over, and the tired, muddy, not-quite-sober crowd of people stepped back onto the streets of Louisville and headed home. As long as the infield remains open to the public, the public will be there. The infield is just as much a part of the Derby as the grandstand — after all, you can buy a Mint Julep in either. So, for those interested in getting in on the action for the 131st Kentucky Derby, consider yourself warned — this isn’t your grandfather’s horse race.

Benjamin E. Nelson is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Minneapolis.