I head to Orlando on Friday - Matt I get in around 5:45 so that could bode for a troublesome evening.
Yes, that had crossed my mind, I must admit. I've been thinking about this and I ask myself, "Why? Why should a race weekend accompanied by friends and loved ones always have to be BLIGHTED by horrendous, irresponsible alcoholic abuse? What law states that as soon as you are scooped up from the airport, you must report directly to a bar and commence liver and brain cell destruction, be assaulted by loud music and cigar smoke until the small hours and then be up before daybreak to head out to the circuit - only to start imbibing again, before breakfast and throughout the coming day?
Why don't we just have a pancake and a soda at IHOP, watch a little TV, make up our packed lunches and have a respectable nights sleep, before heading off to the track? Rather than take that huge drag-along cooler, full of beer, we could just pack a couple of bottles of spring water (which is jolly refreshing, when it's warm out) and have a sober and coherant day out at the motor races.
That said, Fax doesn't get into O'town until 8'ish, so I guess it's the beer'n'stogies run, followed by a couple of slotters in't Sho-Boat before picking him up - then more of same 'til 3.00am - then horror fart-fest drive to Hendricks - then renew acquiantences with soggy CA'ers - then hoist a few suds, then breakfast, then a few late morning beers, then celebrate the start with a couple of beers, then hike out to the hairpin, stop for a beer or two, get terrifyingly sunburned, muse, whimsically why Canada Phil carries that enormous flag wherever he goes, take the piss out of Smokey for his girly beer and Gesatapo moderating tactics, stumble to the Stumble Inn, drink, piss, drink, piss, drink, piss, watch a few cars honking around, have a couple more sherbets, circumnavigate the circuit, stagger back to the pit balcony, sit there drinking black beer, praying for it all to end, stagger back to carpark, miraculously sober-up instantly, drive to Denny's to satisfy beer munchies, leave in disgust when kitchen staff wipes his hands on his trousers having 'dropped the kids off at the pool", and pootle back home, have a Guiness nightcap and so to bed.
Should be a great event and we'd better get organised for Le Mans, for fucks sake.