How-to survive a trip to the Indy 500

This Memorial Day, I embarked on a trip to a place that thousands go every year… Indianapolis. I didn’t realize the redneck mecca this place was. I’ve never seen such a mass of people of such varying walks of life. Upon first stop in Indy, I came across a man wearing a vest with nothing underneath but his sun drenched beer belly. It was adorned with some sort of American flag pin (accessories make the man), and his scraggle beard was gathered in a black hair tie. There were celebrities at the race as well; Jack Nicholson, The Judds, Marky Mark, Jewel, Florence Henderson, plus every walk of life in between.

My first night in Indianapolis was celebrated with a few cocktails and a trip to a dance club, that I never got the name of. It was packed, the hip-hop jams were on point, and the dj was a fellow chicagoan. Many dances and drinks later my friend and I left to get back to our hotel. A minivan cab arrived steered by a friendly Jamaican, Shakizulu (he goes by Shaki for short). We exchanged small talk on our love for reggae while my friend suffered an intense bit of vertigo, projecting her body onto the floor. Shaki was kind enough to peel her body off of the floor and safely out of the van so we could retire.
Three and a half hours later…
Its race time fans! We were hungover and on our way for a McDonalds breakfast and a day at the races. On the walk into the race we passed numerous people hocking various wares. There was food, water bottles, race flags, ear plugs, chili dogs, barbeque, necklaces to hold your ticket and display your seat, spray bottles, American swag, everything you could want or imagine. We decided to park a ways out, so that we would be able to leave earlier. I would recommend this, because it is a big headache saver for the end of your day. The thought of booze, brought about intense dry heaves, so we just aimed to replenish our electrolytes for the day. Gatorade and water along with shade breaks, nachos with jalepenos, and a much needed soft serve cone were the sustenance for us during the race.

I’m not a big car person, but the rumble and hum of the cars is the most intense feeling around. It puts those massage chairs to shame, and injects you with such adrenaline, the only correct response is a holler. Yes a holler; not a yell or scream or shout; a holler. Slather on sunscreen and if you want to fit in, be in support of the shirtless men or wear something with stars and stripes.

We left Indy after only spending 36 hours and just 3 were for sleep. In summary, drink hard one night, drink water another, and holler like a summabitch.

Published in: on June 8, 2010 at 9:57 pm  Leave a Comment  

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