A record crowd of over 106,000 watched Pat Day and Secret Status win the Kentucky Oaks.

It's much like the Hudson River that keeps Manhattan and New Jersey apart or those patches of no-man's land in Connecticut where the difference between being a Yankee fan or a member of Red Sox Nation could depend on what side of the street you live on.

Walking around the paddock area, which is beautifully arranged under a massive video screen and scoreboard in the shadow of the famed Twin Spires, one will spot several pieces of eye candy.

In the Infield, you can buy cotton candy.

Around the paddock, there are $2,000 suits on men, and just as expensive hats on sundress-clad women.

In the Infield, every male in sight is shirtless. And most every female's attire resembles that of Britney "Ain't my belly button cute?" Spears.

Around the paddock, it reeks of excess and is flooded with b-rate celebs and hanger-ons.

In the Infield, there's a stench of very cheap beer and oozes with teenage locals.

Around the paddock, everyone is drinking Mint Juleps.

In the Infield, the closest thing to a Mint Julep is the guy on the blanket downing a fifth of bourbon after eating a few Altoids.

"That's a tourist drink," says Melissa Schroder, who made the trip back to her hometown for her seventh Derby from Washington, D.C. "Most people around here don't drink them -- even at the Derby -- and pretty much think they taste awful."

You get the straight jibe in the Infield, the enormous parcel of land that the track encompasses and home of the one of the greatest single-day parties in the country.

	“	This is our town's time to shine, so we love it and embrace all the visitors to the area. This city is fairly small and we seem to treat all tourists the same. ”
		— Louisville resident Beth Hancock

There are two different experiences to be had in the Infield: The one on Oaks Day, and the one on Derby Day.

"Oaks Day is a whole different story than it is on Saturday," says Gary Meeks, 26, who has lived in Louisville his whole life. "It's more family-oriented and about us -- the locals."

If that's the case, "us locals" must mean teenyboppers. It looks like a Backstreet Boys concert is about to break out, not the seventh race with colts that no casual fan has ever heard of. School is canceled on Oaks Day in the greater Louisville area.

"We got off early on Thursdays on Derby Week, too," says Lizzie Ferreri. "That's why it seems like we're [high schoolers] everywhere around here. It's like a big reunion for everyone in Louisville whether you're in high school, coming home from college or you're with your family."

"It's our day," says Marianne Sharp. "Tomorrow is for tourists and people who want to say they've 'Been to the Derby.'"

High school theme or not, there's still a hint of Animal House in the air. Walk to the Infield and you'll find college heaven, complete with passed out carcasses on lawn chairs, Mardi Gras-style bead swapping, women being strongly urged to lift their shirts and more "Totally '80s" tracks being played than one would ever care to subject themselves too.

Two years ago, this same Infield crowd led the way in hundreds of mud wrestling matches on a rain-soaked Oaks Day.

"Just wait until tomorrow," says Meeks. "It'll be pure craziness. We [locals] know better than to go too hard on Friday. If you do, it'll be a long Saturday."

All it takes is a $20 ticket to enter the Infield. The families start setting up camp at dawn, while the high school and college-aged crowd ambles in around 11 or 12. No alcohol is allowed to be carried onto the premises, which allows dozens of beer and Hurricane stands to make four or five bucks a pop on watered-down cups of foam and ice. Oaks-dwellars go to great lengths to carry their poison past enemy lines.

The fessed-up parties claim they smuggled in alcohol in some of the more-creative ways ever known to man: