Kentucky

Kentucky

“Mussolini made the trains run on time.”

Caroline thought of this quote often. In fact, she thought of it every day as she rode the light rail train in Dallas to and from work. And every time she thought of the quote, it provoked an irk within her soul. The line was factually incorrect and glorified a dictator. It was illogical that this quote was still in existence. Illogicality chipped away at Caroline’s thoughts. Precision, truth and determination were the ambitious canons that Caroline endeavored to achieve. Without firm goals, and dreams that provided clear benchmarks, Caroline’s disciplined mind quickly short wired into frantic disorientation. Caroline was painfully aware that her devout tenacity had cost her more than what she had gained in life. A sense of passion, creativity and hope were a slowly dimming bulb in Caroline’s repertoire.

For the past 10 years, immediately upon graduating from college, Caroline had been gainfully employed as a tax analyst at one of the Big Four accounting firms. The craft of accounting made perfect sense. There were rules, regulations and clear paths to follow. Nothing was muddled and any interpretation lied neatly within her realm of knowledge.

Caroline’s train ride to and from work took 27 minutes. A quick walk to her building, greetings with the doorman, an elevator ride to the 32nd floor, and she was ready to start her day. Caroline thrived in the challenging environment. Always prepared, perpetually professional and perfectly cordial made it easy for her clients to embark on an amicable partnership of trust and loyalty.

It was this trust and loyalty that had led Caroline to deviate from her usual schedule this Monday morning. Caroline was headed to the New York City branch of her office to sway and convince a hesitant potential client. As she looked around her apartment one last time, she was confident that her journey was ready to commence. Caroline relied on the train more heavily than she would like to admit. Although she had a car, and you certainly needed one in Dallas, Caroline enjoyed the train. It was a guilty pleasure: to engage in daydreaming or reading while her transportation was tended. Her flight to New York departed at 1:29 so she had plenty of time as she boarded the train at 10:32. After the short, 20 minute ride, Caroline joined the crowd exiting the train and entering Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. Caroline was confident in her routine. She had never missed a flight.

Although antiquated, Caroline preferred to check in at the airport. The line was short and barely gave her enough time to pull out her ticket and identification. She had done this many times and was a bit perplexed when the airport agent glanced once, twice and then three times between the screen and her ticket.

“Ma’am, your flight has already departed.”

Caroline was stunned.

“The flight left at 11:21.”

Somehow, to Caroline’s disbelief, she had misread her plane ticket. She was positive that the flight departed at 1:29. This had never happened. To most, this would be a minor hiccup, a moment of embarrassed giggling or a simple shrug of the shoulders. But, for Caroline, this was unfathomable. She was not embarrassed, inconvenienced or indifferent but flabbergasted with her error. When the agent passed her ticket back to her, Caroline swore the ticket was mocking her.

“Don’t worry, we can get you to New York. Let me look and see what I can do.”

Caroline felt her tension ease a bit.

“It looks like there’s availability for a flight leaving at 1:39…,” as the agent’s voice trailed off, and for a brief moment, the tension resurfaced. “This isn’t a direct flight. It goes through Louisville. But, you won’t have to get off the plane. It’ll arrive in New York about two hours later than your original flight.”

Caroline was issued a new boarding pass and found herself gliding through lines. Caroline was a skilled, proficient traveler. Her only items were her carry on bag and purse. She didn’t need to worry herself with a checked bag. Too much chance for error with checked luggage. All it takes is one mistake and the entire trip is ruined. She grabbed a Clif bar and a bottle of water from the airport concession shop and found her way to the gateA18. Caroline winced. Terminal A was reserved for regional jets. She wasn’t picky, necessarily, she just knew that regional jets were more likely to be involved with a crash so she felt her bias was justified. She had barely sat down when boarding began. Caroline was in seat 4D. Easy enough. And a window seat. She made herself comfortable and before she knew it, the plane was taxiing to ascent.

With one quick turn after take off, the plane was pointed in the direction of Louisville’s Mohammad Ali International Airport. Once the seatbelt sign was disabled, Caroline quickly reached into her bag. She pulled out a stick of spearmint gum and the latest Anthony Horowitz mystery. Time became ethereal and the next time Caroline looked up, the plane was approaching Louisville. Flying north, the plane seemed to miss the city entirely. Just as this thought entered Caroline’s mind, the plan commenced a U-turn. Once the plane was going due south, towards Louisville, the pilot spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look out the right side of the plane, you’ll see the iconic Churchill Downs, a racetrack intertwined with the city of Louisville. If you have a chance, try to visit. You won’t regret it.”

Caroline looked. There it was. She could see the Twin Spires glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. The track was a perfect oval. The emerald grass in the center of the oval sparkled like an Irish countryside. Caroline knew nothing about horses or horse racing. She struggled to remember the last time she had watched the Kentucky Derby, or honestly, if she’d ever watched it at all. Something stirred within her, a restless feeling. She sat back as the plane continued to descend.

The landing jolted Caroline forward. Between her glimpse of Churchill Downs and touching down on the tarmac, Caroline’s stomach had felt more than a bit queasy. She gave herself a few moments to collect herself.

Those that were ending their journey in Louisville began to disembark. The feeling of desire, almost nostalgic, to remain in Louisville was so strong, so magnetic, that the only logical option was to exit the plane. Feeling a bit disoriented, she glanced around. She was in her seat, on the very plane that was going to carry her to her final destination. With every person that exited, a panic grew within her. Caroline had an urge she had never experienced before: the feeling of the universe inexplicably pulling at her soul.

Then she was up. Quickly grabbing her carry on, she swiftly moved towards the front of the plane. She avoided eye contact with the flight attendants as if they were law enforcement and she was a criminal. Within seconds, Caroline found herself in Terminal B of the Louisville airport. Now what?

Caroline felt dazed. What had she been thinking? Caroline found a seat and sat down in the terminal to gather her thoughts. She realized how spontaneous her actions were, and yet, intuitively felt like the correct, safe and rational choice.

Reality hit Caroline.

Caroline called her colleague in New York. “I’m so sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it.” Although the colleague was disappointed, as no one was as skilled as bringing in new clients, she understood. She also was not in a position to question Caroline. Then came the harder call, to her direct boss.

“Sarah, I’m not going to make it.”

“What?!”

“I had something personal come up, I’m so sorry. I never ask for personal days but I need two weeks.” Even as she was speaking, Caroline surprised herself. She felt as though someone else was dictating. She wasn’t even sure why she needed two weeks. It was the instinctual time to suggest.

“Look, Caroline, I don’t know what’s going on. And you don’t have to tell me. You’ve never asked for time off like this so I can’t imagine what’s happened. If you want to reduce using your personal time, you could work from home.” That’s when Caroline realized that Sarah didn’t know that she was in Kentucky. She believed that she had missed her flight entirely. Simultaneously, that’s when Caroline also realized that she was monotonous. How sad, she realized, for an adult to never have had experienced a few luxurious personal days.

“Let me think about working from home. I really appreciate it, Sarah.”

Within 15 minutes, Caroline was in a rental car headed towards the Hilton Garden Inn. The clock read 5:15 as she entered the room. After organizing her luggage and thoughts, Caroline realized she hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day. Heading down to the front desk resulted in a quick suggestion for dinner, Rafferty’s.

30 minutes and one club sandwich later, Caroline was sitting at the bar of a casual restaurant wondering what in the world had compelled her to get off the plane. It felt like an intoxicating feeling of power and adventure, two things that Caroline did not have experience in handling.

“Mind if I sit here?” The petite lady waited for Caroline to shake her head before proceeding to jump, hop and land on the bar stool.

“That’s impressive.” Caroline rarely spoke to strangers but couldn’t help herself. It was quite the maneuver.

“I’m an exercise rider, this bar stool is much better behaved than the horses.” The lady began talking as if she had known Caroline for years. She told Caroline about how she had started riding as a jockey, one of the very first girls in a male dominated industry. She worked her way up, trainer after trainer, until she was finally with, arguably, the best Thoroughbred racehorse trainer in the country. “My name is Violet, by the way. I probably should have started off with that before I told you my life story.”

Suddenly, Caroline realized what had spurred her off the plane: Churchill Downs. Caroline recounted the last three hours of her life.

Caroline didn’t realize the pulling of the universe, the strings of destiny, had spun its web and entangled her with Churchill Downs.

“I don’t know a lot about horses, I’d love to see a racehorse in person. I’m in town for two weeks, is there any way I could see one?”

“Sure. Here’s my number. Text me and I’ll send you the directions to the track.”

As Caroline climbed into bed that night, after setting her alarm for 4:30 in the morning to be at Churchill Downs by 5, she had already decided that she wasn’t going home.