Somewhere in the reclaimed swampland of the Everglades, that glorious river of grass (although it’s actually sedge, not grass, and it’s technically a marsh, not a swamp), a columnist is forced, in only her second brief, to issue a retraction: the middle-aged man described in my first post as having insisted on Richard Vogel being cute—Richard Vogel, World #9 and winner of this week’s 3-star Grand Prix—does not have 2 kids, but 3, or maybe only 1, and is not from the continent of Europe.
(“But I didn’t say you were from Europe, I didn’t even mention—.”)
Also, he is short and very muscular.
All of this to shield his identity, as it is an author’s duty, in sensitive matters such as these, to obscure names and identifying characteristics of anonymous informants.
He is, however, sticking to the facts as he sees them: Richard Vogel *is* cute.
Now that that’s settled, let’s move on to Week 2 of WEF.
This week the FEI jumping was on the grass, at the Global Dressage Festival grounds. It’s that patch of land that will one day soon be the epi-center of a newly-constructed “downtown Wellington.” The patch of land that has been the source of a protracted battle over “the future of Wellington.”
On Friday, I went over for the Qualifier in order to do some sneaky reportage. During the coursewalk, I heard one rider describe the course as “ridiculously overbuilt.”
Indeed, I felt the course was something akin to a Himalayan mountain range, and at $32K in prize money, many wondered what was the point. But what else is to be done with a roster of riders that includes no less than four of the top ten in the world?
We are awash with European imports this season.
“What are these guys doing here? I wish they’d all go home,” said one rider, but laughing.
The truth is that North America is absolutely plagued by insecurity so that were anyone to put up a 5-star (which many do), if that 5-star is unattended by the usual roster of Euro riders, everyone starts screaming about needing a 6-star.
After this, a 7-star and an 8-star will be invented so that star ratings will become quite inflationary and whoever ends up manufacturing these stars will become very rich.
In the VIP, I see the World Number One.
World Number One wears an armband so everyone knows he’s World Number One. I have maintained a fascination with the armband for years and have so many questions.
Like, does he have more than one armband in case one gets dirty? When you lose your spot, must you surrender the armband or can you keep it in a glass case in your house to remember your former glory? But what I really want to know is if World Number One ever goes to bed wearing only the armband, nothing else but, because honestly that’s the scenario that immediately occurs to me.
Another thing that is happening this week is everyone is very sick.
One acquaintance describes excessive vomiting in a long, explicit paragraph at the end of which she affixes “TMI, I know.” Someone else has pneumonia and is on an advanced course of antibiotics.
The jetset crowd flies in, bringing viruses from around the world. We must kiss when we meet and I must submerge my face in a pot of boiling water afterward, or alternatively, pour a bottle of vodka over my head.
I, myself, spent two days hardly being able to move out of the bed. But as I have few other symptoms, I am not sure if it is illness or just life.
I read a book called The Swamp: The Everglades, Florida, and the Politics of Paradise in order to become a more informed and erudite columnist. (Although we know technically, ’cause I read it in this book, that what I’m reading about is a marsh.)
In it, Florida is described as a “big toe” which is “dangling into the water of the subtropics.” I consider writing a letter-to-the-editor, because none of us see a big toe when we look at Florida. That’s the not appendage we see.
More ‘What the WEF?!’ from Erica Hatfield:
- What the WEF?! So it Begins