The Great American Disaster
So the Daytona 500 was last weekend and Red Bull was kind enough to invite Staker and I along for their inaugural venture into the world of Nextel Cup racing. Unfortunately, neither of their cars qualified but Red Bull still had a huge sponsor tent with an open bar, food and a great view of the start finish line as well as two tour buses full of Red Bull employees being shuttled from Orlando.
We arrived at the track at 9:30 a.m. on Sunday and soon after ran into Randall Harris, who was taking a break from wakeboarding on Lake Lloyd (in the middle of the track) as some kind of promo deal. Keep in mind that there were about 300,000 people there and we happened to run into him five minutes after we walked in. Now, it gets crazier, because five minutes later we ran into Brian Grubb, Brandon Thomas and Kris Burke standing by the infield beer garden.
From that point on all I can tell you is that Red Bull was awesome to us the race was great, but that it turned into a total debacle. We definitely won the prize for worst pit crew:
– Grubb was taking some antibiotics and didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to mix them with beeer, so he had a rough night that ended up with taking a nap in a McDonald’s.
– Burke got left behind at the track lost his phone, and couldn’t call anybody because he didn't know anyone's number. He took a $200 midnight cab ride back to Orlando.
– I fell asleep on the way home only to wake up four hours later and find out that we still hadn't moved because there was a murder on I-4 and they shut it down. So it took us five hours to get home. I also got another backpack stolen with another passport and my jacket and digi cam ended up in North Carolina. No lie. It’s back though.
– Staker dropped his brand new cell phone in the bus toilet on the way home. Gone.
– Randall forgot to bring a wetsuit and had to ride in 45 degree temps in the morning.
– BT had to play mom for everybody.
– Mark Martin got beaten by .02 seconds right at the very end. You can’t even blink that fast.