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You know those places you return to again and again, where each time is just like the first and still better than the last? Saratoga is one of those places for me, and particularly the racetrack, where money and booze, thoroughbreds and jockeys, silk and leather, cigars and fancy hats rub shoulders and exchange nods like members of a secret society. The horses are sexy and strong. The women are perfumed and their rainbow colored hair meticulously coifed. Men look snappy and elegant if they're owners or regulars, and tired and intensely focused if they're handlers. Teller lines are long but fast moving and all faces are furtively fixed on video boards and CC TVs. Trackside, the atmosphere is electric and bright as thoroughbreds thunder by, sweating, gasping, veins and muscles bulging and covered in mud. Yeah. I like it. I hope I get to go back.