Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 15

I once heard from a wise man (or read it in a fortune cookie) that in order to know where one is going one must understand where they have been. Currently in my day to day life I’m in a little bit of a transition period as I’ve decided to totally switch career paths and venture back to school. Having this opportunity to start over new again I decided to take a mini sabbatical over the past week to reconnect with my past and hopefully set the way for my new future (don’t get too impressed as I have yet to tell you what I did). I had a few options to choose from for my destinations including a trip down south to the beach or a venture out west to the mountains. While both of these destinations would have proved to be great getaways I knew I needed to dig a little deeper in my past in order to get the results I was looking for. A hillbilly road trip was my only true destiny.

As any experienced traveler knows it is more than a good idea to always have at least one other person along with you on your adventures in road trips (always safety in numbers). So to begin my weeklong travels I had one of my good friends, JD (BTW I’m only using his initials to protect his identity and because I don’t have his consent to use his full name), accompany me to our first destination, The Brickyard 400. Yes that is a NASCAR race and I know it’s a perfect way to start a hillbilly road trip. Since I can remember my family has had been involved in racing in some form or another (sponsorships, pit crew, dating, fans, you get the point) now while a majority of these have been in the ARCA series I think the link to NASCAR is close enough. Now our seats were in the penthouse (not as glamorous as it sounds, turns out they’re just on the top of the grandstands) going into turn one across from Johnson’s pit. From our angle we could see all of the front stretch, turn one, into turn two, and a short distance of the back stretch (I know I’m losing most of you so I’ll get to the point) our seats were amazing. Not because you could see so much but because the beer was 10 steps to our left and the bathroom was back and 5 steps to our right, perfect. Now because Carl was running in the middle to back of the pack the majority of the day I needed to find a way to entertain myself, I found it in the bathroom.

There are a few behaviors that occur in a men’s bathroom that I find unusual, odd, and bottom-line hilarious. One of these actions is when a grown man uses the urinal and pulls their pants down to their ankles. Let me tell you being the man right beside the guy pulling this stunt brings about a feeling that is almost indescribable, for some reason you feel embarrassed for them while trying not to laugh at the same time. Now please let it be known that since shirts are more than optional at NASCAR races you can imagine the hilariousness I encountered when I walked into the bathroom to see a fully naked gentleman standing at the urinal doing his business (that’s a lie, but how amazing would that have been). The second behavior is when a guy waits in line but refuses to use the urinal (or three-man trough that Indy’s Speedway has) to wait for a more secure and comfortable stall. As I mentioned Carl wasn’t running good so I had to some time to kill and decided to pull this stunt. I waited in line but gestured as if saying I was waiting for a stall. The trough was at full capacity with three men deep so my trap was set. The man at the far end finished up and with me being next in line I allowed the man behind me to take the empty spot (he of course thinks I’m waiting for the stall, it’s a known behavior in the men’s bathroom). Next the spot closest to the stalls open and the next guy jumps in after observing my interaction with the previous man. Due to the 750 horsepower engines noise bouncing off the metal grandstands it’s near impossible to talk during races, even in the bathroom so everything is communicated through gestures, of course until I get to the trough. The middle spot opens and I jump right to it, start doing my business and try to start having conversations with the two guys I let in before me on my left and right. You want to talk about uncomfortable situations, the look on these guys’ faces as they realized I deliberately waited in line to get in the middle position in the trough (the least desirable spot to them but most desirable to me) and try to talk to them while there was priceless.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I've decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

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