Alexandra O'Donovan

Globetrotter

Stood in the middle of the stalls, Michael internalised his surroundings: the stampede of hooves, the jeers of winners and losers, the smell of beer and stale cigarettes wafting from one side of the viewing platform, the smell of perfume and wealth emanating from behind the red velvet rope at the other. Turning towards that red velvet rope, a look of contempt creeping upon his face, he thought it funny how he could be looking beyond it with the same judgemental eyes that were likely watching him from within. The disdain felt between those at different levels of the social hierarchy was no stronger felt than at the horse racing - a pageantry of the classes where one specimen may view the other; a human zoo of sorts. Those at the lower end of the spectrum complained of the haughty, entitled demeanour of those at the upper end, who in turn looked upon them as uncivilised and crass.