Wednesday, August 09, 2006

 

1 day!!!!!!!!!!!

This will be the last blog entry prior to race weekend and,..what can I tell ya. We’ve been semi-giddy since day 10. Maybe longer.
Now reality is really kicking in. It’s here! And we’re excited!

I know a lot of people typically don’t go to the track until Sunday morning but wow; you’re really missing the whole experience when you do that.
Any fan will tell you that you have to go for the entire event. That includes qualifying and practice. Why? Because you need to be out and among the people. It’s not just about the race itself; it’s all about the sights, sounds, smells and general socialization.

Granted, we don’t camp. Personally…it’s just not something I enjoy. I don’t need to stay at the Tajmahal but I’m not a fan of sleeping on the ground, using a community shower or a bathroom the size of a phone booth. (although I have used one that size the last two years!)

Tomorrow will consist of what we call the pace lap; hitting some wineries on the way down, checking into our new sleeping and showering quarters; of which I’m SURE we’ll have some stories to tell about when we get back, and a trip into the “office”. (see post below)

We also have a satellite “office” at Bleachers Sports Bar & Grill. It’s become our second home mostly because of the personalities of the workers AND because it’s where my cohort can get her yearly order of Buffalo Chicken Wings. You can’t get that good shit down in Chattanooga, TN.

If you ever visit Watkins Glen make sure you stop and order a chicken sandwich at Mr. Chicken. We even caught Mike Helton and John Darby there last year so it obviously comes highly recommended by the NASCAR brass.

So that’s it for now! We can’t wait to get there and get our first whiff of the track and hear the roar of the revving engines.

If we’re not back by Monday night, send out a search party!

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

 

2 days...

It's a very exciting time for us right now.
Both myself and my co-hort down in Tennessee have a bad case of VB (vacation brain) or, better yet, RWB (race weekend brain). It's been hard to concentrate on work. Our brains are already down in Watkins Glen, they're just waiting for our bodies to show up!

Speaking of which, in this post I pay tribute to our home office. Without it the weekend would not NEARLY be as enjoyable.

When: The Glen race weekends 2001-
Where: The Seneca Lodge

I first discovered our home-away-from-home back in 2001. A insider media guide said that the Lodge was the place where teams and anyone who knew anything about racing met up for beers and laughs. Sounded good to me. So off we went...up the mountain, hard right and there it was.

Rustic would fit the area around the race track and there is no better example of rustic than the Lodge. It's like walking into the cottage your grandparents owned at a small lake right down to the screen door.

After walking through the dining hall and around the salad bar you're greated by the sounds of a good old American pub. Complete with a mish-mosh of racing banners, what seems like thousands of arrows in the wall and instead of the moosehead, a huge bee hive hanging from the ceiling.

The Lodge is all about family. Family owned, family run and it seems as if everyone knows everyone. Not only are there race fans in the crowd but teams, locals and folks who look like they haven't left the place since last hunting season.

The Lodge is run by the Brubaker family and we're especially close with their son Sam.
Sam is the opitomy of bartenders. A good looking kid who knows how to pour a drink, when to give one on-the-house and, his best quality, he knows how to throw a good verbal zinger. There's nothing we like more than a little (or alot) of verbal volleyball. And also be ready to go home with a wallet full of two dollar bills and dollar coins. Some people think that change is odd but I think it's all about what gives this place it's charm and originality.

So we'll be there to punch the clock Thursday night.
Let's just hope they haven't graduated to a life-sized stand-up of Boris in the bar. We'll see enough of that squirrel all weekend!

Monday, August 07, 2006

 

3 days...

Is it fate or just God having a sense of humor that makes people who you don't want to see become a piece of gum on your shoe?

When: August 2004 AND 2005
Where: Watkins Glen raceway NASCAR Nextel Cup Garage

My friend seems to attract the people she loathes. They hover around her like a piece of meat to the point of hilarity.

In 2004 Boris Said seemed to be her shadow. Any where we turned there was that stick figure with the white-boy afro on top. And those teeth. Yikes!

Okay, I have to evade this subject for a bit and talk about NASCAR teeth. What is it with multi-millionaires having such bad bits? Dale Jarrett looks like he supported the last series sponsor so much that his teeth are a lovely yellow tint. Matt Borland,..as much as we love him..how can he face those nasty chompers in the mirror every morning?
But Boris' seem to be the worst of the lot. Granted, he'll never win any beauty contests with or without good teeth but you would think there's a dentist in the neighborhood who would help him so he could set a good example to his son.

I digress...
In 2005 while Boris was STILL circling my buddy like a vulture she suddenly had more attention. Her beloved Kevin Harvick. Yeah, she hates him too. We both do actually. Wait, hate is too powerful an emotion. Loathe, that's more suitable.
Anyways, any where we turned..there was that freakin 29 driver. We couldn't find Jamie or Jimmie but Kevin was on us like the plague. It was like he was waiting for us to ask for an autograph. I was practically inclined to ask him "WTF do you WANT?!?!" but I was afraid of what his stupid-ass response might be.

So be careful who you evade...they MAY begin to orbit you like a planet!

Sunday, August 06, 2006

 

4 days...

The List tradition continues…..

When: August 2005
Where: Dinosaur BBQ

Before we got too drunk on Harley’s kick ass coconut rum and RC’s…we started two lists. One was people who we wanted to track down, the other were people we wanted to RUN down. Or hex actually.

Harley, by the way, is the best bartender at The Dinosaur Barbeque. The Dino is, hands down, the coolest place to hang in Rochester, NY. Great music, great food, a VERY extensively stocked bar and the best servers you’ll ever meet in western New York.

Anyway, back to the lists. Here’s what I can remember that we had written down; you’ll have to excuse my TERRIBLE memory.

The Must Meet list:

David Stremme and his crew chief Randy Cox (Randy seemed to be wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak…we didn’t spot him once)
Bootie Barker (the story about him is yet to be told)
Jamie McMurray (another phantom of the garage)
Jimmie Johnson (he must’ve been hanging/hiding w/Jamie)
Scott Riggs (he was pretty easy to track down…we just followed the gleam coming from his teeth)
Kasey Kahne (we love shy boys)
Carl Edwards (his PR person pulled him away before we could get a picture)
Tony Stewart (this was around the time my co-hort started liking him)
Tommy Baldwin (many glimpses of him and that wonderfully form-fitting Dodge uniform. ah yes,…those were the days!)
Ryan Newman (whose hair looks much thicker in person)
Jeff Gordon (just because he was so damn nice in 2004)

The Must Hex list:

Kurt Busch (for, among MANY reasons, running over Scott Riggs at Indy)
Kevin Harvick (just for being himself)
Elliott Sadler (so we could pop his ballooned head and let some of the ego ooze out)
Rusty Wallace (although my hex from 2001 seemed to be hanging on at the time)
Brat Kenseth (for being such a dick to us in 2004)
Travis Kvapil (although it wasn’t HIS fault that he took over our buddy Brendan Gaughan’s ride, we just couldn’t hex Penske and take the chance at hurting Ryan)


Unfortunately the master lists got lost or covered in booze over the weekend so they cease to exist.
We’re working on a new one this year because it seems as if our hex list gets longer and longer every year. What can I say, the garage over-runneth with assholes!

Saturday, August 05, 2006

 

5 days...

There was a time when I hated Tony Stewart with the fire of a thousand suns. When I say hate, I literally got disgusted whenever he was on TV or whenever I saw him in the garage because of how arrogant he was and that he treated everyone like crap. After the spring Talladega race in 2005, I literally ran into him and stared him down with the dirtiest look I could muster. The funny part was that his eyes got rather big and he looked surprised that I wasn't kissing the ground he walked on.

I've made my peace with Smoke and I gotta say, I love the guy. I think perhaps he was just misunderstood and didn't want to deal with the peripheral bullshit of this sport. By all accounts, he's a much nicer person now that he's living back in Indiana. But I'm keeping my "Tony Please Don't Hit Me" shirt, just in case.

The history between Smoke and I goes back to the Glen, and I have to wonder if he remembers what I did to him.

When: August 2004
Where: Nextel Cup Garage, Watkins Glen NY

We're a superstitious bunch here at the home office. Frankly I'm convinced that my co-hort has some kind of super power to hex drivers and make them wreck their cars (but that's a story for another time!). Given my aforementioned hatred of this man, I decided it was time to try and hex him myself. After we made the rounds and I wished my drivers good luck, I came across the #20 Home Depot Chevy in line for inspection. It was now or never... I laid my hands on the back deck and said, right out loud, in front of the crew (who looked totally mystified) "I CURSE YOU TONY STEWART! I CURSE YOU TO DNF!" Surely, this would cause a flat or something. As long as he was out of the top 10 I was OK with it.

The green dropped and they were off. During the race, we heard through the grapevine that Tony wasn't feeling well, and had Boris Said (who failed to qualify after following us around all weekend... yes, yet ANOTHER story) standing by to take his place should his condition deteriorate. Although I was pleased that Tony's tummy was upset, I found that every driver I said good luck to had wrecked. Every freakin' one. And Smoke was in the lead. Smoke must feed on hatred, and I had plenty to spare.

The checkers flew and wouldn't you know it, the 20 was across the line first. We were bummed because our buddy was working with Ron Fellows and the 1 team from DEI, which came in second, and it would have been a hell of a thing to see him in victory lane. But alas, it was not to be. Smoke was there... or was he?

Turns out, he decided to go back to his motorcoach before coming back to celebrate. When I saw that son of a bitch coming back on the golf cart I yelled at him "thanks a lot for ruining my weekend, asshole!" to which I just got a look like "WTF?" then he headed on down to the celebration.

I found out later that apparently my weekend wasn't totally ruined. Smoke HAD to go back to his motorcoach to change. Apparently he had an "accident" in his firesuit.

And that was the time I scared the shit out of Tony Stewart.

Friday, August 04, 2006

 

6 days....

There is one phenomenon that always strikes me as incredibly hilarious:

When: Any track during any race weekend
Where: around the garage

The subject today my friends is Waffle Bellies.
WB’s are the folks who spend the weekend w/their noses and guts pressed against the fence surrounding the garage. The pressure of their intense fixation causes indents on their beer filled guts or whatever body part is closest to the fence; hence the nickname Waffle Belly.

WB’s can be male or female and their unfortunate children also suffer through their obsession; standing there without taking time to eat, drink, get some relief at the port-o-john’s or see the track. God forbid they give up their “spot”.

One year the people who run The Glen track had this strange idea to cover the fences that surrounded the garage with black tarps. I’m not sure what the motivation was behind that move but it didn’t stop the bellies. If anything it just helped them, now they had a shade!

The WB’s near the garage pass gate have to be the most amusing. That’s where you see the most females. Their angle; trying to talk their way past the guard or talk to anyone going in or out with a team shirt to see if there’s ANYTHING they can do to get their hands on a pass.

Race weekend 2004 our friend met us at the gate to give us our hot stickers and when they were spotted by one particular female, she spoke up and said “Hey, I'll pay you for that!"
I believe our friends response was something like "They're not for sale" or "I don't think so",
leaving said waffle broad to find another "angle".

All I wanted to do was hand her some syrup...

Thursday, August 03, 2006

 

7 days...

Everyone knows that when you go to a race, you're going to pay out your ass and every other orifice for a hotel room. Therefore, it isn't always reasonable to stay in the presidential suite at the five star hotel. With this in mind, we booked our deluxe accommodations...

When: August 2004 and 2005
Where: Glen Way Motel, Watkins Glen NY

The Glen Way Motel is one of the swankiest motor court motels in the greater Watkins Glen area. It's nestled behind a huge white house right off the main drag in the village, with a U shaped arrangement of approximately 15 rooms. The parking lot is small enough as it is, and with the race bringing in the big old pickup truck drivin' rednecks, it is fairly challenging to maneuver. To add to the excitement of parking, the proprietor of the establishment has added an obstacle course in the form of an orange construction cone surrounded by police tape, right in the center of the lot. The cone is supposed to demark a raised drain, but in the two years we've been staying there, the cone hasn't moved, nor has the drain been repaired.

Upon entering the house door marked "Office", we met the aforementioned proprietor of the Glen Way Motel, an ancient Asian man, whom we have nicknamed "Long Duk Dong", or "Dong" for short. Dong is actually a very friendly guy who appears to be at least 75 years old. My cohort and I have a rule... when one of us sees something that horrifies us, whether that be stupid behavior or a complete lack of judgment in fashion choices or something utterly disgusting, we point it out to the other. When we checked in last year, I noticed that Dong had a hair sticking out of his nostril. When I say hair, I may as well have said tentacle because this sucker had to be at least an inch long. Jesus Christ, don't you have a mirror? Cut that thing off! So of course, I pointed it out to my cohort. Then the comments started about whether or not he should braid it or make it into one giant dreadlock... needless to say I needed at least 4 Labbatts to get that out of my head.

When you step into the office, you feel like you've gone back in time to 1962. There isn't a piece of electronic equipment in the joint, unless you want to count the coffee maker (which, incidently, looks like it's also from 1962.) Even the telephone is a rotary dial. Speaking of the coffee, you should see this stuff. First of all, when you walk in the door of the office, this wall of burnt coffee stank smacks you right across the face. The source of the stank is this piece of crap Mr. Coffee that is so old, the carafe looks like frosted glass from all of the mineral deposits over the years. Just when you think it can't get any better, you spy a cardboard sign on the wall upon which is scrawled "Free Coffee". Now I'm a serious coffee drinker, but dude, there ain't enough Cremora in the world to make this 10W-30 appealing.

There is a flashback theme at the Glen Way, evident by the decor in the deluxe rooms! Our room was in one of the corners of the motorcourt, and we obviously had the presidential suite, because outside our door we had, count em, two plastic chairs AND a table! Once you get the door open, the room is about as big as a toll booth on the Thruway, and it smells like your great aunt's wig. The decor consists of two full beds, garage sale paintings, and some ratty shag carpet. We had two televisions... however, one didn't work and the other was mounted up on the wall, but didn't have a remote. We had one alarm clock, which became supremely unreliable because we had to unplug it to get to the outlet. Yes, we had two electrical outlets in the room. Oh that's helpful when you have two high maintenence chicks who absolutely must have their curling and flat irons!

The bathroom was at the front of the room, and you practically had to be a contortionist to get into it. The only ventilation was a flip down window that offered pretty much any passer by a good glimpse of your nekkid ass. The shower was a death trap. It was a 3 x 3 stall that looks as though it should have been encased in a wall. But in order to make sure that the parking lot was not the only exciting place at the Glen Way, Dong just left the enclosure free standing in the bathroom. God forbid you slip because the entire thing will come crashing down around you. Let us also not forget to mention the padded toilet seat cover, which is covered in yellow flowers and looks like something my grandmother had in her house when I was a kid. But there is an outlet in there, so it ain't all that bad!

I suppose we shouldn't knock the Glen Way too much. It's cheap, within stumbling distance to all of the bars on the strip in the evening, and you can stumble across the street in the morning to get some coffee at Burger King. Hell, you can even stumble to Mr. Chicken in a reasonable amount of time. We did have fun smoking Black and Mild's with our media buddies Jamie and Max from the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle (well, I smoked, my cohort just laughed at me). And let us not forget, this is the place that shall forever be marked as the location where my cohort put Mr. Connection in his place.

Alas, this race weekend we're staying at another motel, mainly because Dong screwed us out of our room. But we will always remember the Dong Motel with fondness... who knows... maybe we'll be back in 2007! I bet the same freakin' pot of coffee will still be there.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

 

8 days... Drunk in pub-LICK!"

They say you shouldn't drink while on the job... that is, unless your office is at the Seneca Lodge Bar.

When: August 2005
Where: Seneca Lodge Bar

My partner in crime and I made our annual pilgrimage to the office to see the world's greatest bartender, Sam, and to see Boris Said for the 50th time.

It was the final year of Crusty the Clown's ride in the #2 Miller Lite Dodge, thus the bar was littered with several RustyWallace/Miller Lite advertisements with his ugly mug all over them. My partner in crime HATES Crusty with a passion, so much so that when he wrecked his car in Dega in 2005, I made sure I took a picture of him cussing at his crumpled up car, just for her.

Upon seeing the waste of good cardboard all over the bar, she turned each one of them away from her. Sam caught her and proceeded to turn all of them facing her, just to piss her off. She yelled at Sam to knock it off, and he said "But it's his last call!!!" She shot back "THANK GOD!" I almost snarfed my Labatt's Blue right out of my nose.

Sam must have been in a rare mood because he proceeded to use me as a science experiment and try out every drink he knew how to make on me. Never one not to be a team player, I obliged him... Irish Car Bombs a plenty! Sam and I had several liabations, much to our friends' amusement.

The rest of the evening is rather hazy... I think when we got back to the Dong Motel, I went inside and passed out on the deluxe full sized bed circa 1952. But I'm a gamer... we were up at 5:30am the next morning, at the track by 7:00am, ready to go.

My liver has been in training... BRING IT ON, SAM!

P.S. This one is for you, pahtnah!


Tuesday, August 01, 2006

 

9 Days....

Our next story is one that most of you with minimal patience for ignorance will enjoy.

When: August 2004
Where: Frontier Baseball Field, Rochester NY

Brendan Gaughan at the time was piloting the #77 Kodak Dodge for Penske Racing. Being that I was a contractor for said sponsor I had heard that Brendan and his team would be near headquarters performing live pit stops for all the employees. So myself and my cohort headed downtown to see the action.

There was the pit set up in the back parking lot and bleachers full of people there even before we arrived. We had made it in time to catch the end of the first “show” where Brendan smoked the tires, laid down some rubber and barreled into the pit while the boys in their pit uni’s did the voo-doo-that-they-did so well. (you can watch it all you want on TV but until you actually see a pitstop live and up close you have NO idea how quick and intense it is) Afterwards a cop on horseback pulled Brendan over and gave him a ticket for speeding in the parking lot. It was classic; rehearsed but none the less hilarious.

So after the first show broke up we stuck around for the second one. Got a good seat right down front and just people watched for the next half hour or so. Which by the way…is our FAVORITE past time.

The second show was to begin around lunch time and the field is right next door to Kodak’s corporate office so all the workers start pouring into the parking lot. By show time it was standing room only. There were even security people there keeping walk areas clear; or at least trying to. So here we were in our front row seats, so proud of ourselves for sticking around so we could get a great look at the team and, more importantly, our buddy Brendan.

Now let’s face it…most people are selfish, self-absorbed idiots. They have tunnel vision for everything else but what THEY’RE doing and not even caring HOW what they’re doing is affecting others.
I say this because people kept stopping to stand right in front of us. They just stood there when they were obviously blocking our view. They saw what they were doing but..they didn’t care. They wanted to see…screw anyone else. Security was telling most of them to move along but they were about as tough as mall cops.

So then this Dad comes down in front of us with two kids. One kid’s just kind of standing there and the other is attached to his hip. Okay, I can tolerate kids and I don’t mind if THEY come down front but by then my last inch of patience was gone. This guy was kneeling down right in front of me. RIGHT there. He saw me, I saw him and as usual, he just didn’t care. That was it, I had enough. My Yankee-ness and LEO tendencies just couldn’t take anymore.
“SIR, I CAN’T SEE THROUGH YOUR DAUGHTER!”

My partner-in-crime STILL quotes that line two years later.
What can I tell ya; If you want a good seat, get there early. Otherwise get the flock out of the way!

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