Although yellow rose was the theme for the 148th annual, 2008 Melbourne Cup, red was the colour of the day for me and Yvonne. We couldn't escape this devil hue: Yvonne's outfit highlighted by her heels and handbag, the chafed neck from my shirt collar, and all the sunburned shoulders of racegoers on this surprisingly sunny day. It was also the colour I saw each time I lost my bet and watched my money slide down the drain. It is especially times like this I'm glad I don't have a gambling problem.

Don't want to become destitute after betting on horses? Here's a tip: Cut off access to your own funds. This was an unintentional measure as Yvonne transferred too much cash into our savings, leaving just a few crumbs available. In hindsight, this was a blessing. But it didn't save me a few embarrassing moments as I attempted to withdraw from our account. Not a problem if I was trying this at an ATM. It wasn't an ATM. It was a window with a real, live person manning a debit machine.

I started at $80. Denied. $60. Denied. $40 (please, please)? Denied. I gave her an uneasy laugh. "Umm. He he. My wife didn't transfer our money to this account", I said, trying to reassure her we weren't bums. "Well, I'm sure that's a good thing", she quipped. I fully agreed. I'd imbibed a few drinks at this point, so luckily the sharp jabs at my pride were dulled. I managed to squeeze out $30, enough to keep us fed and make one or two small bets (which, of course, we lost).

The arrival to the event was in itself momentous. We were dropped off about a football field away from the track. We walked among the throng; men in suits and hats and women in colourful frocks with flowers and feathers in their hair. Helicopters hovered in a queue in the airspace above, taking turns at the landing pad and spewing out attendees who obviously didn't hear about the global economic crisis. Limo after Hummer limo pulled into the parking lot, their dapper passengers giving creed to the saying "bigger is better".

A young girl, probably about ten years old, sold yellow rose boutaniers for $10 a pop from the sidewalk. We trusted her mother when she assured us her daughter wasn't being exploited and bought one for my button hole. As we entered the grounds, the convivial buzz hit us like a brick wall. Before long we were drinking bubbly out of plastic champagne flutes.

There were ten races on the day. We arrived in time to lose money from four to eight, the seventh being the big Cup race, and the lengthiest of them all at 3200 meters. The favourites in this one weren't even close. Our pick, Septimus, finished eighteenth out of twenty-four horses. The winner? An underdog named Viewed that netted one of our friends over $600 on a $20 bet.

But it wasn't about winning money, although that would have been a welcome side-effect. It was about the experience and just having a good laugh with our friends. The people watching was top-notch. How often do you get to see "distinguished gentlemen" acting like right fools? Or the Pope ogling cleavage? OK, maybe it wasn't the Pope. But it looked like him.

There is a reason this is touted as Australia's biggest annual event. If you happen to find yourself in Melbourne during Spring Carnival week, don't miss it.

To check out more pics, go here.