These Are the Days

The 1^st weekend in August is the annual Schwa family bang your sister marathon. We all roll down to the NASCAR race in Indianapolis &, to fit in, I say I bang my sister. Nothing actually happens, (Unfortunately?) but the NASCAR crowd is judgmental & it is a prerequisite to any sort of social relationship with the crowd. Unfortunately my sister wasn’t present this year as only my pops, bro, & I decided to roll down for the race. They attended the Packer game Saturday night so we left around 2 am for the great state of Indiana.

I decided to let my bro drive his new PT Cruiser down there. I know I have an aggressive rep with my rig, however my brother is 5 times as bad as I am & this was before I toned down the raged driver act. I have known a lot of bad drivers, everyone does. My girlfriend is admittedly a terrible driver. My sister almost knocked down our garage she hit it so hard. My brother eclipses all.

1^st of all, I drive fast, but no more than 10 over. My bro drives 15 to 20 over at all times. I’d say, “Dude, cops are always in this section of Milwaukee. I have been through here a 100 times.” He would then proceed to speed up & rip by a cop exactly where they always sit. I have no idea how we didn’t get hit.

He also struggles to pass people. If you have ever been out of Wisconsin, you know there is a thing called an interstate. These very often feature 4 or 5 lanes of traffic each way. It was about 5 in the morning by the time we hit Chicago so other cars were few & far between. Instead of jumping in another lane to pass another car, he would race up to them at about 80. He then would jam the brakes, down shift, & tailgate them until they got out of the way. I thought turn signal & the gas petal worked better, what do I know? I found myself actually praying, literally praying whenever I saw another car.

When he did go by someone in another lane, it was a whole different level of scary. For instance, we passed a car winding around a turn. He swerved at least half way into the other car’s lane. I could have reached out & unlocked dude’s door. When asked WTF he was doing, he stated, “You have to lean on people to pass.” Ummmmm….no you don’t. What is this, fucking Days of Thunder?

The worst part of the ride wasn’t the actual driving, it was his music selection. He decided to play some crappy R&B/rap/that crap that is ruining America. He said it kept him awake. No shit it did, how could anyone sleep with this BS playing. I do not know what kept me from ejecting the CD, breaking it in half, & cutting my wrists. I was close.

We finally got to Indy, picked up our tickets, & started rolling around. The NASCAR crowd is truly unique. I know stereotypes aren’t always accurate, but there is always a bit of truth to them. You can find just about every possible NASCAR stereotype in the flesh at a race.

Body hair is disgusting in general, these people wear it as a badge of honor. You could sheer half the crowd like sheep. It looks like the Munsters modeling Abercrombie sweaters. Tank tops (Stylish on men already.) literally disappear like Robin Hood into Sherwood Forest, absolutely disgusting. I was waiting for a miniature band of merry men to pop out of a guy’s back at anytime & rob me of schillings.

Apparently methamphetamine is a much bigger problem in the south than I ever knew because a NASCAR crowd’s teeth fall out like horses from a trailer with the gate unlocked (It happens, trust me.). Nearly half the crowd had summer teeth. Some were here, some were there, & most weren’t there at all. Maybe they are just hard up for cash & don’t understand that the tooth fairy stops coming after the age of 6 or whenever you lose that only set of teeth you are supposed to lose.

Races are really living brochures on why it is a bad idea to pick up a date at a family reunion. :cough: MIAH :cough: Honestly, it is like going to a renaissance fair to figure out why we don’t live in squalor anymore. Or like when your high school stages that car wreck & have the emergency helicopter come in to show everyone why drinking & driving is a bad idea. There are those of us that think it’s a bad idea to sleep with a family member & then there are those that know all to well why it is a bad idea. NASCAR fans know all to well. My only question…Miah…Who is your driver & why didn’t I see you at the race?

NASCAR fans are testaments to the fact it may not be that bad of an idea to let your kids play in the middle of busy streets. Throwing your radio plugged into the wall to your kids in the tub wouldn’t hurt. Hell putting your kids to bed face down in that tub with a few inches of water in it isn’t that bad of an idea. Possibly playing hide & seek with the kids with a running wood chipper in the back yard marked “Hide here!” is acceptable. I may just be a bad person.

After sight seeing & mixing with the culture, we made our way to our seats. As Kelly Rowland sang a beautiful rendition national anthem, my nightmare bulled her way into our row. 2 enormous women plus their enormous significant others slammed into each person they passed as they attempted to reach their seats. It would be way too common. At Indianapolis, you are allowed to bring coolers into the stands. Considering it was supposed to be in the high 90’s & beer costs about $10 a shot…It is a hell of a good idea to bring your own refreshments. It is an even better idea if your party averages the same weight as the Packer’s O-line & you are going to sweat gallons of fluid. These gems didn’t get the memo.

In the 1^st 50 laps of the race…they got up 6 times for beer…annoying enough. Every time, every time, both got up. 4 out of the six times she kicked over my soda. Once over, it began to pour on her foot, she kicked it up splashing Coke all over the lady next to me, looked at me, & kept going without an apology. Really, it was like going bowling with a Mack truck, we were going down regardless of the circumstances. Had I been carrying a box cutter, she would have looked like a wind sock when I was done (A very big one at that.).

The guys in front of us weren’t any better. If you need a definition of typical NASCAR fan, read the above a 2^nd time. They were typical NASCAR fans. Their eyes were quite close together & their teeth were few & far between. What little space existed between the eyes of the kid directly in front of me was covered by a hedge-like uni-brow. He had this high pitched squeal to his voice that was almost incomprehensible &, without the fence surrounding the track, was sure to call in a pack of wild dogs. I at moments thought he was retarded…however the lack of prevalent drool made a diagnosis (& thus me feeling bad now for making fun of him.) virtually impossible.

My issue with him started here. I am 6’2”, when I sat in my seat, my knees touched the back rest of the seat in from of me. When I would sit down, the kid would put his damn elbows on the back of the seat & jack me. I understand once, or twice, but not 18 god damn times. He would then turn around & give me a dirty look. It was one of those uncomfortable situations like when you have sex with your girlfriend a day or 2 before she is supposed to go on the rag & you come up looking like you used her pelvis as a sacrificial alter for Dracula. You just don’t know where to start conversation from there. I have never come so close to standing on my seat & giving someone a flying elbow drop. Had there been folding chairs readily available, Vince McMahon would have been charging $39.99 for the show.

As much as I talk about the goofy crap that goes on, it was seriously a great time. After Running 35^th the whole race, Jr. took the lead with 10 laps to go & ended up 6^th. Clint Bowyer ended up 4^th, & after looking like he was going to win, Kevin Harvick finished 3^rd. Overall it was a great day at the races & I can’t wait for next May & the 500.

I am gearing up for school so there are going to be an increasing amount of blogs to get me into writing shape…Also, an FYI… There are snakes on the MF plane!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Currently Playing…
“Want To”
By Sugarland

(I've packed a cooler & a change of clothes / Let's jump and see how far it goes / You got my heart & your daddy's boat / We got all night to make it float / We could sit on the shore, we could just be friends / Or we could jump in.)

Posted by D. Schwa on Friday, August 25, 2006 at 6:37 PM | Permalink