It started because I have a good friend whose job occasionally gets him free tickets to local events. The tickets in question were to a polo match, yes, a bona fide polo match in Pittsburgh! How could I, who was once one of those typically horse-obsessed little girls, pass up the opportunity to see a 2000 year old example of horsemanship? Perhaps not as mind-boggling as certain types of unusual dressage, but I imagined frothing ponies, cursing riders, close calls, and dramatic injuries. Yes, a good time to be had by all. It was to occur at Hartwood Acres, an old estate-cum county park that hosts a number of outdoor events through the year.

So, three of us packed a bag of goodies and set out, hoping for a picturesque afternoon of wine spritzers, cucumber sandwiches, shortbread, and fancy sodas. We couldn’t help but be a little tongue-in-cheek about the whole thing, since the polo was really a somewhat expensive charity event and bound to be full of Pittsburgh’s wealthier set. This was even more clear as we ambled up in my friend’s slightly beat-up, 11-year-old car and found ourselves in a herd of shiny BMWs, Mercedes-Benzes, and vintage Corvettes.

Unlike me, they had dressed properly for the occasion.

Alas, our hopes for an aristocratic picnic in the park were not to be. Saturday arrived with an insistent drizzle of rain that only let up for brief moments. Right good British weather, I suppose…you know, for authenticity’s sake. But the humidity seemed dead-set on attiring us in a gummy layer of sweat and spinning our hair into frizzy halos. Without a tent, we were compelled to have a dashboard picnic.

Although the quarters were a little cramped, we did get to share the cucumber sandwiches, fruit and lentil salads, a fig and olive tapenade, and hazelnut-espresso shortbread.

Later on, the rain quit enough for us to approach the field and see the match up close. It was not quite as dangerous or high-stakes as we’d envisaged (which is probably a good thing, honestly), but there was plenty of interest between the match, the commentator (who was a bit like the one from Best in Show), and of course, people-watching. At halftime, there was even a procession of hunting dogs, to further play at the idea of faux-British aristocracy in this little steel town. We thought it would be funnier if they’d paraded the Wild Hunt for display.

After the match, the commentator suggested that the crowd step down to meet the riders, horses, and, in his words, “maybe even get a few phone numbers”. Well! As tempting as that sounded, more so was the promise of air conditioning in the car on the way out. All in all, though, we had a smashing good time!

Posted by the cookworm on Tuesday, September 11th, 2007 at 10:15 am.