A Trip to the Circus

I had a case of High Life's, a pitcher of extra spicy Bloody Mary's, 2 bottles of water, sunscreen, the dusty box I stashed my balls in when I started staying home with my daughter, and an apple pie. I was ready, but I was going to be late. It was already 4:26am and I was still making my way up 275 to the rendezvous point. The goal is to get on the road by 4:30, so we can get into Indy by 6:30 and thus are in the infield by 7:30. If we missed the infield by a handful of cars, I was dead.

We were in line for the infield when things started to sour. First the Bloody Mary's ran out. Mental note - 1 full gallon next year. Then, the most devastating blow of all. We were denied the infield. It was full, and had been for almost an hour. Which is good, because that means it wasn't my fault. Its bad, because we're still shut out, and next year we'll need to leave even earlier.

The infield is a massive lawn party. A 2.5 mile oval chocked full of grilled meat, cold drinks and people....lots of people. This is my favorite part of Indy. Want to see what the college kids are up to these days? Come to Indy, but I'll give you a hint, it's not the responsible consumption of alcohol. Want to see scantily clad jail bait? Come to Indy, and while you're at it see 1998's jail bait trying to reclaim their former glory after 10 hard years of partying. See the subtle mating rituals of 19 year old studs in baseball hats and flip flops" "Hey....Hey You in the blue....Show Us Your Tits!!!" See 50 year old's try the same tactics. (Many of whom have bigger tits than the jail bait they are engaging.) Share food and drink with total strangers, make an ass of yourself or just watch everyone else. The infield is a teeming circus and in turn we are all spectators and performers.

But not this year. Denied and desperate to even get a spot, we sweet talked our way into Suite Parking. It sounded good because it was free and it was across the street from the track. But it was on the wrong side, so we were 2 miles away from our seats. Worse, Suite People don't tailgate, grill out or play games. To blend in neither could we. It was like taking a kid to Ringling Brothers and then sitting in the parking lot full of locked cars, but no people, hiding from the rentacops. It was less than ideal. It was...not so Sweet. We would have to find other ways to amuse ourselves. It was so bad we left for the seats early.

The long walk afforded us some time to play. We developed a game I call Big Dick. We go into the bathrooms separately. With the high levels of beer consumption, the restrooms are always full. They have these big long troughs that are 20 ft long, in multiple rows, so there's no real privacy. I walk up the trough and a co-conspirator slides in next me on either side. We then proceeded to violate every man-rule about urinal etiquette. They came progressively closer, until their shoes are touching mine, one looks to me, makes eye contact and says, "Hey....Nice Dick!" The other says, " Yeah, I couldn't help but notice the size of it myself." We have a conversation in high volume about my "massive" member, watching the response of people. Some got the hell out of Dodge, some pissed on themselves because they were laughing so hard, some craned their necks to try and get a peek (...disturbing). We must have done it 5 times on the way in, and it was funny every time.

We tried to talk our way into VIP tents, with no luck. When that didn't work we tried to get free stuff and badgered every poor track employee from here to our seats. When they wouldn't give it us anything, or were nasty about it, we told people ahead of us that they were giving out free hats. It didn't matter we didn't even have a hat. You should have seen the crowds converging on them. In the new car show area, we tested out the new model year Chevy's by piling in, arguing loudly as to whether or not there was room to have sex in the back seat, checking the trunk size by climbing into it, pretending to drive, and asking the cute sales girls ridiculous questions about PVC valves and Di-Forcal Modulators . We were 30+ year old punks. Like kids let loose in the Mall again. I'll see you out front at 9:00pm Mom....of course I'll be good.

We did eventually get to our seats, we sit right off Turn 4. We have a good view of the turn and the straight away. The cars are so fast, you barely see them as they come through the turn, and then they fly by multicolored blurs. Its very hard tell what's going on. The engines have such a distinctive, high pitched sound and are so loud. Once the pack spreads out, its a constant din of screaming engines. My ears rang for 24 hours after the race. You rely on the scoreboard to tell you how your drivers are doing, and in a word, mine did crappy as they always do. The race is the climax to the day, and while I have learned to enjoy it, thanks to various and sundry gambling games, it's really an excuse to come to the show, the Circus. Sometimes I leave halfway through and wander the infield mingling with the masses -many of whom have no interest in the race at all. They just come to perform.

By 4:30-5:00pm, when the race was over we headed back to the cars. We grilled out for the second time, started to rehydrate and sober up. By then after 12 plus hours, I was tired of the circus and ready for home, but I am already looking forward to next year. It's a great day, I'm not sure I could or would want to do it more than once a year. But once a year, its a great day.