RaceDay 2.0

It's the day after race day and I feel fine. Sorry Steve. I am maturing rapidly and learning not to cross the fun line into the land of stupidity. I came pretty damn close though.
I'm going to make one more attempt at describing the experience, then I'll leave you alone.
It is a mega-event. There's no other way to describe it. Here's how the day unfolds.
Up at 5:30 A.M. with no complaints, attend to your toiletries, then get to work filling coolers, packing just the right clothes to suit the anticipated weather conditions, dragging folding chairs down to The Peace mobile. Money, tickets, kiss the cats and we're gone. Dunkin Donuts, coffee, a plain donut, hit the highway.
Bleary eyed, we meet up with the Maine contingent at a convenience store on 106. They are bleary eyed too. There is the core, the hardcore core who attend every race. Warm greetings. There are usually other fans and acquaintances joining in; introductions, hand shakes, bathroom break, a Mounds bar, and off to the track, which is right down the road. Traffic is relatively light and we cruise into the parking lot. That's why we start so early. We are brilliant tacticians.
We park, set up the tables, break out the grills, lay out breakfast and settle in. We're usually set up four to five hours before the start of the race.
Sarge and I engage in an illegal activity (a tradition), I pour a little whiskey and my ass hits the chair. A city pops up right before your eyes. 100,000 race fans congregating in the parking lot. Cars streaming in, parking, setting up. Groups of people, couples, young folk, old farts, grizzled long hairs and pretty boys. You can feel the excitement building, slowly, but definitely building. You are surrounded by humans with a common passion; tossing bean bags and horseshoes (later they might be tossing their cookies), throwing footballs, music blaring in some locations, radios tuned to racing news. Colors, sights, sounds, aromas, happy people digging something they love. 100,000 people. I bet you can't even imagine this reality; how many of you have been in the company of that many people ever in your lives? Do you even have the guts?
Everybody wearing their drivers T-shirts, flying flags, pulling beverages out of racing coolers. Race fans are loyal and bold about it. There is a lot of ball busting going on but it is done jokingly. Never any fights, rarely any anger.
Alcohol is everywhere. Part of the experience. But you never see people attacking other people, physically or verbally. This has always impressed me about race fans. It says a lot about the character of the people who are into this sport. It says a lot about the people who ridicule this sport as well. Thirty years ago when I first got into this scene it was comprised mostly of toothless rednecks. Today that is not even close to being the truth. And yet people persist in using this stereotype as part of their arsenal for ridicule. And the "how can you watch cars drive around in circles for three hours" comment. Ignorant.
Some people find golf thrilling, or bowling or curling. They understand the sport and appreciate the subtle nuances. Everybody has their thing. And there are always mindless fools out there willing to poke fun at someone else's passion. They must be put to death immediately.
As if on cue, everyone is putting food away, re-organizing coolers, shutting up cars and heading towards the track. There is now a supreme buzz in the air. Thousands of people en masse walking towards the impending spectacle in glorious anticipation. What a sight. Again the colors, the conversation and laughter, the good natured ribbing. This is a temporary but huge community come together for the purpose of enjoying racing and having a damn good time.
 Make your way to your seat, endure the pre-race festivities, four words and BOOM the track rumbles to the sound of forty three cars roaring to life. Blows your mind. Gets even louder when they leave pit road, hit the track and drive slowly by you on the warm up laps. Blows your mind a little more. Forty three powerful engines, bunched together, make a lot of noise. Goosebumps, baby.
Gets even louder when they start the race. They are flying now and the engines are cranked. Your brain has just exited through the top of your skull.
Sometimes the race gets boring, but I have seen boring football games too. There is always something to keep your attention, and if it is a good race and if your driver is in contention, it is a blast.
The race is over and you are feeling pretty good thanks to the competition, the chemicals and the booze. Trek back to the parking lot, the coolers are much lighter now, and tailgate some more, wait out the traffic. People are spent, hot ,tired, some drunk and still having a blast. Chow down, laugh some more, say your goodbyes and head home.
You are home the day after the race because you were smart enough to take it off in advance. Gotta recuperate. The silence and slow pace is such a contrast to race day.
You feel good. You have just experienced something most people never will. It was intense, it was hectic, it was fun, sometimes slow moving and boring, but overall it was memorable and worth all the sacrifice. Your senses were assaulted and so was your liver, your emotions were all over the place, you talked, you laughed, you thrilled.
Beats the shit out of working.