NASCAR Weekend
My Saturday at Richmond Motor Speedway actually started on Friday night. Two Slurry Beta favorites, The National and Arcade Fire, were playing a double bill at Constitution Hall and by some divine force, I acquired four tickets before the show sold out in three minutes. It was an absolutely fantastic show and we were all pretty fired up afterwards so we decided wet our whistles at a nearby saloon. The basement was empty so there was convenient access to the bar, which is a DC rarity on weekends. Things spiraled out of control quickly as I attempted numerous times to leave by ordering more drinks (Slurry B is not known for his advanced skills of logic after mixing alcohols). We closed out the bar and I was incredibly hungover Saturday's trip to Richmond, VA to watch cars drive in a circle. I prepared poorly.
So Saturday afternoon eight of us (some people I knew, some I didn't) met up in Arlington to board the Booze Bus, which was actually more of a Booze Limousine Bus. Leather seats, wet bar, tinted windows, track lighting, TVs, a driver named Dave and tons of light beer. Pulling up to a sea of Winnebagos, tents adorned with confederate flags, and old trucks converted to tailgating stations, we stuck out like a sore thumb. We parked next to a group of Bobs, Ricks and Bills (maybe a Skeeter?) standing and drinking outside an RV next to a flashy Corvette, which was there for purely ornamental purposes. One of the gentlemen was wearing a Viagra racing jacket without irony---a common NASCAR occurance. I think it's only a matter of time before some racing team signs a major deal with Tampax and it becomes perfectly acceptable for southern men to wear Tampax merchandise.*
The three attractive women of the group stepped out first and one of the guys immediately popped his head into the bus and said, "Is this thing full of broads?" They were disappointed to see the rest of us were dudes. Handsome, yes, but not the correct gender. We hung out for a bit while our new friends took pictures of the girls next to their ornamental Corvette.
Our parking spot was about 1.5 miles from the racetrack so we headed down to the tram loading area to see if we couldn't grab a ride on one of the shuttles. The shuttles looked like roller coaster carts on wheels and were pulled by pick-up trucks. They didn't appear to be the safest form of transportation and, sure enough, they weren't. As soon as we got in line, an ambulance rolled by to tend to an unfortunate female spectator who had fallen out of one of the shuttle cars. According to an eyewitness, Yogi, the woman yelled, "I'm going to be a millionaire!" as she was placed into the ambulance. She had no previous legal training, to my knowledge. She did, however, manage to bring the entire shuttling operation to a screeching halt. We decided to walk.
The beauty of NASCAR - and I think everyone can appreciate this - is that you are allowed to bring one cooler per person into the stands, provided they are in a soft container of a reasonable size. We filled everything we could possibly fill with cans of beer: pockets, backpacks, mini-coolers, etc. Dragging that stuff for a mile and a half was a pain in the ass but being able to cradle a can of my own nice, cool Coors Light (Montana's official beer) made it all worthwhile. And, yes, I realize that it's Republican beer but my sense of nostalgia trumps my liberal tendencies on special occasions. Plus, the cans are ergonomically designed and have this really sweet can liner that locks in the rocky mountain freshness.
The tickets we had received were from one of the girls' father and were technically for a client company of his, Warren Oil, an outfit in Dunn, NC that manufactures motor oil, lubricants, and other petroleum products. We were told that if anyone asked, we were part of the marketing department. So naturally, we needed a Warren Oil slogan to randomly shout at each other in obnoxious, drunken fashion. I believe the prevailing slogan was "Great lube at an honest price." I tried valiantly to have my "If it exists, we can lube it" slogan catch on but it ultimately fell flat. Only time will tell which slogan was better. Or it won't.
So Saturday afternoon eight of us (some people I knew, some I didn't) met up in Arlington to board the Booze Bus, which was actually more of a Booze Limousine Bus. Leather seats, wet bar, tinted windows, track lighting, TVs, a driver named Dave and tons of light beer. Pulling up to a sea of Winnebagos, tents adorned with confederate flags, and old trucks converted to tailgating stations, we stuck out like a sore thumb. We parked next to a group of Bobs, Ricks and Bills (maybe a Skeeter?) standing and drinking outside an RV next to a flashy Corvette, which was there for purely ornamental purposes. One of the gentlemen was wearing a Viagra racing jacket without irony---a common NASCAR occurance. I think it's only a matter of time before some racing team signs a major deal with Tampax and it becomes perfectly acceptable for southern men to wear Tampax merchandise.*
The three attractive women of the group stepped out first and one of the guys immediately popped his head into the bus and said, "Is this thing full of broads?" They were disappointed to see the rest of us were dudes. Handsome, yes, but not the correct gender. We hung out for a bit while our new friends took pictures of the girls next to their ornamental Corvette.
Our parking spot was about 1.5 miles from the racetrack so we headed down to the tram loading area to see if we couldn't grab a ride on one of the shuttles. The shuttles looked like roller coaster carts on wheels and were pulled by pick-up trucks. They didn't appear to be the safest form of transportation and, sure enough, they weren't. As soon as we got in line, an ambulance rolled by to tend to an unfortunate female spectator who had fallen out of one of the shuttle cars. According to an eyewitness, Yogi, the woman yelled, "I'm going to be a millionaire!" as she was placed into the ambulance. She had no previous legal training, to my knowledge. She did, however, manage to bring the entire shuttling operation to a screeching halt. We decided to walk.
The beauty of NASCAR - and I think everyone can appreciate this - is that you are allowed to bring one cooler per person into the stands, provided they are in a soft container of a reasonable size. We filled everything we could possibly fill with cans of beer: pockets, backpacks, mini-coolers, etc. Dragging that stuff for a mile and a half was a pain in the ass but being able to cradle a can of my own nice, cool Coors Light (Montana's official beer) made it all worthwhile. And, yes, I realize that it's Republican beer but my sense of nostalgia trumps my liberal tendencies on special occasions. Plus, the cans are ergonomically designed and have this really sweet can liner that locks in the rocky mountain freshness.
The tickets we had received were from one of the girls' father and were technically for a client company of his, Warren Oil, an outfit in Dunn, NC that manufactures motor oil, lubricants, and other petroleum products. We were told that if anyone asked, we were part of the marketing department. So naturally, we needed a Warren Oil slogan to randomly shout at each other in obnoxious, drunken fashion. I believe the prevailing slogan was "Great lube at an honest price." I tried valiantly to have my "If it exists, we can lube it" slogan catch on but it ultimately fell flat. Only time will tell which slogan was better. Or it won't.
In true anticlimactic fashion, they called the race off after 12 laps under caution because of rain. We drove all that way for about 25 minutes of actual car racing. Luckily, we did so in a bar on wheels, which we happily returned to several a few more hours of good times that I vaguely remember. I would like to extend a special thank you to the person who did not bring hard alcohol on the bus as I would still be in bed.
*I may be the only person in the world who has not seen Talledega Nights so if this joke is already in the movie, I apologize and will take it out. I don't steal other people's jokes, Moroni.
*I may be the only person in the world who has not seen Talledega Nights so if this joke is already in the movie, I apologize and will take it out. I don't steal other people's jokes, Moroni.
posted by Slurry B @ 4:25 PM
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