Carolina Cup As Told By Winston Bishop

If you missed Carolina Cup, fear not! Your favorite Southern belle, Winston Bishop, is here to fill you in. 

The tale starts days, possibly weeks, in advance, when some dedicated soul decides that he wants to pay for you to enjoy a day of Southern class, sandwiched between two three-hour-long bus rides, commencing at 5:30am.

Or maybe you went stag because who needs a date to pay for them anyway #yesallwomen

It’s the night before, and you internally debate the pros and cons of selling your ticket as you set your alarm for 4:55 a.m.

But alas, you stick with you purchase, the day has arrived and your journey begins at the crack of dawn. You’ve just managed to doze off when some frat boy decides that 7:54 sounds like a good time to start blaring the speakers on the bus. Looks like sleep time is over.

After the long journey across state lines, you finally arrive in the beautiful Camden, South Carolina.  A strange sensation washes over you as you realize that every other female in a 6 mile radius is wearing the same Lilly Pulitzer dress and hat as you.

But you have more important things to worry about…you’re finally on solid land and the burgers you were promised are the only thing on your mind…

As the Uhaul that accompanied your bus down the highway is unloaded, the party gets started. You smirk to yourself as you realize the juxtaposition of your innocent grandma’s brunch attire paired with the ‘crat mixed drink in your hand at 11 a.m.

Your mimosa kicks in and you’re ready to dance to some country music

Familiar faces of friends who rode on other buses make their way over to your tent to join in on the fun. The more the merrier…and the more photo ops!

After you’ve gotten your fill of pizza bagels, you make an attempt to pull together the crew so you can explore the other tents, and the Lilly-lined racetrack. 

As the day stretches on you can’t help but look around in awe at the utter Southernosity around you. Pastel pant suits, hats you thought were only worn by cast members of ‘The Help,” and a never-ending list of items that you now know can be monogramed. 

You look past the unfamiliar Southern drawls and straw hats because you’re just enjoying this chance to strut from tent-to-tent in your Sunday best.

By 4:30 p.m. you are most likely burnt to a crisp, and the only thing on your mind is getting home before MP, Whole Foods, and every other food-providing location closes for the night.

You are lulled in-and-out of a drunken and exhausted sleep as you head back North to good ole Durham- your memories of the day mixing with half-asleep dreams and the sound of some kid behind you snoring. 

You are jolted awake with a burning realization on your mind; Carolina Cup is a horse race, and not one sole steed was seen all day. You curse the soul who promised you ponies.

But you let this thought vanish from your mind as you think of all the wonderful memories you’ve made today. There was BBQ, country music, and color combinations you’ve never seen before. To say the least, this day was a fantastic adventure into a preppy world where every day looks like Easter and the drinking starts before the sun’s up. Your 20-hour-day comes to an end as you finally feel the soft caress of your pillow against your face, and muster a tiny prayer of thanks that it is not a coach bus seat. 

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