Formula 1
I saw a woman holding four corndogs with her right hand, a Charles Leclerc mask with her left emerald ringed hand and a Ferrari clad baby strapped to her back. I saw a circle of men guarding their sleeping friend on a patch of shade near the beer trolley. Men wore their wive’s bandanas under their hats and covered their faces with Porsche t-shirts, the lost desert explorers that couldn’t hear their own thoughts. Vroom, vroom and shouted insults, frustrated claps and the occasional cheer in Japanese and Spanish. Timid fans waving flags under the late summer sun. Flamboyant camping patches reserved hours before the crowds arrived with their gawking breathing. Hungry ghosts. No water fountains. Children fighting the anxious clasping of their parents.
During the 1982 Monaco Grand Prix race leader Alain Prost crashed, then Riccardo Patrese spun, Didier Pironi ran out of fuel, and Andrea de Cesaris stalled. Patrese ended up winning by accident after getting his car restarted and realizing no one else was left. In 1982, Nelson Piquet crashed with Eliseo Salazar, he got out of his car and started throwing punches and kicks at Salazar. At the 2009 Malaysian Grand Prix, there was a torrential downpour that red-flagged the race. While most drivers stayed in their cars, Kimi Räikkönen headed to the paddock to grab an ice cream and a Coke.
“The blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it.”
Gaudy recollections of sun poisoning hallucinations. There was a horse drinking melted ice from an unattended water vendor station and a live ice sculptor with a chainsaw covered in McLaren stickers, he had a thick paste of suncream lotion dripping down his face, like melted ice cream. 24 hours at Formula 1 gave me a sun burn and a stomach ache from too much pizza, french fries and chocolate power bars. I rode on a livestock wagon from the parking lot to the race tracks at 7am. They drove us like enthusiastic cattle, telling us jokes and loose facts through the scratchy speakers covered in dust and grease. The rising sun dusting the top of the rollercoaster with copper sun-rays. The stranger next to me became a friend, we bonded over the chiropractic interventions of the wagon’s failing suspension bounces. He offered a bite of his roast beef and mustard greens sandwich. I offered him a banana and a chocolate power bar. I learned more trivia facts: Each driver must hold a valid Super License. The first major technological development in the sport was Bugatti's introduction of mid-engined cars. Mercedes drivers withdrew from all motorsport competitions due to the 1955 Le Mans disaster. Drivers can burn around 1,000 calories per hour and loose 2 to 4 kg (4 to 9 lb) of weight per race. The temperature in the cockpit of a car can be as high as 140 °F (60 °C).
“The funny thing about people, whether they’re men or women, is that they’re all trying to be something they can’t be.”
During the 2008 Singapore Grand Prix, Ferrari accidentally released Felipe Massa from a pit stop, he drove away with the fuel hose still attached to his car. The pit crew had to chase after him. In the 2015 Brazilian Grand Prix, after his McLaren broke down during qualifying, Fernando Alonso decided to sunbathe on a folding chair beside the track. In 1998, at the Argentine Grand Prix, David Coulthard swapped helmets with Juan Pablo Montoya. Montoya’s head was much bigger than Coulthard’s, making it nearly impossible for Coulthard to remove the helmet after putting it on. It took several mechanics to free him.
“Onde você vai, com tanta pressa? Com tanta pressa? Com tanta pressa?
Onde você vai, com tanta luta? Com tanta luta? Com tanta luta?
Eu vou, eu não sei onde eu vou. Mas eu não sei onde eu vou meu senhor.
Eu vou, eu não sei onde eu vou. Mas eu não sei onde eu vou meu senhor”
Drivers do 56 laps around the Circuit of the Americas. During this time a person can cheer to their heart’s content, leave for a bathroom break, take blurry pictures of passing cars or get a snack. Unaware of the traffic congestions that awaits their departure, fans tour every memorabilia stall like vacationing aristocrats. But after every race is completed, amorphous waves of people flood the race track’s exit. The sudden realization of the hour they’ll have to sit in inching traffic fills the air with desperation. Drunken wanderers summon every filament of fine motor skills trying to assemble a life size Formula 1 car with lego pieces. Eminem yells on stage, this year’s guest musician. The rising spirit of ancient rap spirits shake tired concert goers out of stupor. Car dealership inflatable tube dancers. I hope your team won.
