Note sull'episodio
Of all the stress-inducing events that made Portland so chaotic, the most traumatic experience was having to take a shower in the jockey locker room after the show. Like the unprepared kid at camp, I had forgotten shower shoes, soap dish, and just about everything I would need on the road. Horse racing wasn’t in season, and it looked like everyone had literally abandoned the place after the last race. Betsy kept lookout while I showered, the nozzle, at its highest angle, pointed directly at my chest. I used a dozen towels to lay on the ground, and hopscotched around like in an action movie trying not to make contact with the floor (Fran had to shower in one of the horse stalls, side-stepping manure, which put my own traumatic experience into perspective).