The first words I hear when I deplane in Lexington are: “The bourbon store is open if you’re thirsty.” It’s 11:28 a.m., and indeed, the airport liquor shop is open. I’m then greeted by several statues of horses stately planted in the grass outside the baggage claim. As a Southerner — New Orleans-born with stints living throughout the South — I’m particularly sensitive to the ways our towns are often stereotyped. But as more than one person, in varying dialects, points out to me, if you do something well, celebrate it. By the Kentucky locals’ estimation, no one does bourbon and horse racing better than Lexington …