Yippee! It's Memoir Monday!
What you've not heard of Memoir Monday? It's only the most talked about bloggy prompt EV-ER! It was created by the most famous Oklahoman since Timothy McVeigh, Trav-O at I Like to Fish... If you want to be among the cool and fashionable, you must go check him out!
This is part two of my Talladega Adventure. To read the first edition, check it out here.
After getting my new, totally ridiculous tramp stamp, we headed back to Hazel's to shower before hitting the club. For a little hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere, the place was packed. It seems there was some race thingy going on that weekend. Nascar? Dale Earnhardt? Never heard of 'em.
The night was a blur of beer drinking, tattoo sporting, and honey creeping. Period. Same song, same dance, different city. The night ended the same as many before it with me shacked up (no shagging, though; I do have some dignity) with a stranger in a place I couldn't find again if my life depended on it. HELL-O? Natalee Holloway? Are you nuts, LB? But that's how I rolled back in the day. Luckily, he was a decent enough guy who even asked me to go to the race.
What race? Oh, yea...the NASCAR Talladega 500! I had to feign interest which was quite difficult. My impression of NASCAR was not good up to this point. Having gone to an actual race, it hasn't changed much either. Picture Hillbilly Heaven and you have the Talladega 500.
I knew the day was going to be hilarious and memorable when dude pulled up with about 20 friends, 25 coolers full of beer, and a barbecue grill secured to the bed of his truck. I'm taking you to the infield, girl!
*blink* The infield? *blink*
So the 20 friends all pitched in to pay the 50 gazillion dollars for admission. Apparently, the infield is big time. Who knew? I was totally clueless, and I still had no idea what or where the infield was. I soon learned, though, that the infield is that area inside the race track. It is filled with RVs, tents, pick ups, rebel flags, and some things, frankly, that can only be appreciated in person.
So the 20 friends all pitched in to pay the 50 gazillion dollars for admission. Apparently, the infield is big time. Who knew? I was totally clueless, and I still had no idea what or where the infield was. I soon learned, though, that the infield is that area inside the race track. It is filled with RVs, tents, pick ups, rebel flags, and some things, frankly, that can only be appreciated in person.
Far too many of these guys...
The ever-popular Visqueen swimming pools...
The official beer of Nascar...
It was like Mardi Gras for the inbreeding community! On race day, the churches and the Klan meetings are canceled. Everyone puts on their Dale Earnhardt (the original, not Dale Jr.) paraphernalia and hits the track. Numbered flags are flown high on every front porch leading to the track.
Although we headed out early in the morning, we waited in the infield line for what seemed like hours.We finally got in and found a good spot on Turn 2. Like me fluent Nascar lingo?
It was 185 degrees. At ten in the morning. The redneck swimming pools were everywhere. I know why country boys prefer trucks. Not only can they haul stuff in the back and ride through muddy terrain with the greatest of ease, they can also create an impromptu wading pool with a sheet of visqueen and a water hose. If they weren't relaxing in their Z-71 pools, they were slipping and sliding. That visqueen is pretty versatile stuff, ya know.
I can't just rag on the dudes, though. The girls were just as, well, entertaining. Though I'm pretty sure mall hair went out in the late 80s, the fashion police hadn't quite made it to Talladega, Alabama, yet. I saw more camel toes, muffin tops, back fat, and barms than I ever wanted to see. Cut offs with a bikini top was the standard uniform regardless of the size or amount of coverage. Bottom line? Lots of skanks!
I spent most of the day in dude's truck with the A/C turned on, though. I was too hung over and too tired for such mayhem. The best part of the day? As we were rolled out of the infield after the race, Dude's dad fired up the grill. In the back of the truck. As we sat in traffic. I was wondering why they had that thing secured so tightly. A new twist on the tailgate party, if you will.
All in all, it was probably one of my better first dates.
7 comments:
It was like Mardi Gras for the inbreeding community!
Brilliant. I wouldn't minding going to one (JUST ONE) of these...just for the experience. Or blog fodder.
I second the first comment.
Also, thanks for playing! One of the things I look forward to the most about MM is the use of the words camel toe and barms.
:)
I lived in Alabama for four years, and sadly, never made to Talledega. But thanks to your MM, I don't have to be sad anymore! Thanks!
the back of truck turned tub is hilarious.
I am clearly a moron because I know what camel toes and muffin tops are, but what are barms? do I need to Google it?
This was so hilarious that I read it out loud to my husband. And he actually chuckled. (The man has no sense of humor since he got off the sauce so that's saying something.)
Oh man... one thing I don't miss about the South: Confederate flags EVERYWHERE.
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