Yes, it was pure karma the day that 30-something J.Baldazar Orkney, IV, met Miss Hortensia Bay Burke (of the Shenandoah Burkes), under the shade of a party umbrella alongside the final polo match on the Regency Club grounds in Wellington, FL.
By that time, J.B.O. already had a phenomenal J-O-B at his uncle’s hedge-fund-and-derivative-swap firm, pulling down eight figures in a good year, MBA far behind him, and seemingly nothing but a long string of successive wives and imported wines, cars, suits and cigars ahead of him.
Meanwhile, Hortey was pushing forty, but had thinness and richness and pretentiousness and acquisitiveness (all of the extreme variety) working for her. It was a single fateful stick of ‘herb’, shared with one of the wait-staff at the bar tucked away in the English-Oak-paneled 2nd floor lounge of the Regency, that altered their futures irrevocably.
They smoked and mused and toked and laughed for seemingly hours. Baldazar was becoming ‘Baldy’ as his pate poked ever more through his hair, and Hortey was sick of dining on several croutons and six quarts of water a day. He wanted to attend a tractor-pull and a WWF match and a rave; she wondered what it was like to wear flip-flops and a tube-top and cut-offs. They both wanted tattoos and extreme pets and unconventional hair.
Here we send them off to the infield at Talladega, in celebration of their 12th Anniversary (wearing their camo-coordinated bra-top and shorts, and their favorite Anniversary gifts: chain-belt from him to her; pirate-scarf from her to him). Ain’t they the cutest?
Hang out where the truly rich like hang, polo-ground-side!
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