The press box at Oaklawn Racing Casino Resort was on some sort of lockdown. Everyone assumed it was for a new coronavirus outbreak, which was reasonable. The oddity was that provisions were limited to a hefty supply of coffee, soda pop, and tubes of food nearly identical to the stuff Apollo astronauts were fed in the 1960s. It was chalky and nearly flavorless. As dehydrated as he was, Rock found it particularly—even distressingly—difficult to eat.
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