Culture Immersion...I speak fluent redneck

I'll eventually get to the blog where I talk about being a single parent again.  Sorry, ya'll are gonna have to wait for it because something WAY more monumental happened last weekend.  We did a full cultural immersion into Southern living.  We spoke the language, we wore the clothes, we heard the live country music, but avoided the beer (sorry, some things I won't do)...ladies and gentlemen, we camped on the infield of Talladega superspeedway for the Talladega 500 NASCAR event!!  We figured, as long as we are living in Alabama and experiencing the South that we may as well attend the Holy Grail of redneck sporting events (no, not closeline highjump, old tire toss, or name that gun), it's not just NASCAR, it's Talladega! And for the record, Ricky Bobby is not a real race car driver, however Dick Trickle is :)

So, a little background to this situtation.  My Dad loves NASCAR.  He and friends used to camp out at Watkins Glen (a NY NASCAR track) frequently.  So when we moved to Alabama I immediately knew that my Christmas present to my Dad would be a Talladega weekend.  I conspired with my Grandma to arrange the logistics and it all worked out.  "Lonnie", my Dad, the kids, and trailer all left for the race on Thursday in order to get to our infield campsite during an afternoon track downtime.  Basically, you have to drive over the race track to get big rigs into the infield, and rather than trying to do all that with kids at night, they left early.  I joined them on Friday after my classes. I arrived in still in my uniform.  This is apparently a license to be hit on and harrassed about having guns in the same conversation.  Thank you track security, camoflage does not automatically equate to being heavily armed.  Oh wait, I'm in Alabama...I withdrawal my objection.  When I got to our site, literally 50 yards from Turn 2 (yes, that's close), there was a race going on and the boys were in their kid-headphones enthrawed with the cars; Ayla was passed out in the trailer with her headphones still on beccause she refused to take them off.

NASCAR itself is pretty simple...all the cars go left in a circle really fast.  Many people don't even watch the actual race. They sit outside their campers and watch it on TV!  We got to know the "neighbors" who were all enthralled with the kids and thought we were the best parents ever by bringing our kids to a race (we were called "A true NASCAR family" more than once, not sure if I should be proud).  I'm a bit scared that was the standard I needed to exceed here.  I went walking with Kai and Ayla during Orion's nap so that I could get a lay of the land.  We walked down the party street made up of young people and trailers tricked out with stereo systems, stripper poles-not kidding, and lots of alcohol.  It was only 6pm-still daylight-so I didn't imagine I'd be exposing the kids to frat life so early.  They fit right in by crashing a party when Ayla started dancing and slapping her butt to some music while Kai tried to steal a watermelon.  We were invited to stay and offered the watermelon, which I politely refused.  Kai also managed to scrouge food from almost every trailer we passed.

Saturday it rained. And rained. And rained.  I felt really bad for the people in tents...and those who passed out outside.  You can't race when it rains because, like everyone in the state of Colorado, NASCAR doesn't know how to drive in the rain.  We were camped on a grass site, meaning that there was standing water and no chance to avoid mud.  After a few hours, I was stir crazy with all the kids couped up, so we went for a drive to make them sleep.  The rain amazingly stopped and with special jet engine dryer trucks, they were able to dry the track enough to race.  There was a good crash right in front of us (best part of the race) and the final laps were sublime at sunset.  I know, NASCAR and sublime in the same sentance...didn't think it was possible. 

 

After the kids were in bed, "Lonnie" and I walked down to the 'lude and decivious' area for a live Chris Young concert.  We saw the stripper poles being used (not by strippers, just by drunk 40-somethings in cowboy boots), specially crafted beer/music wagons with lights!, and a lot of drunks dancing in the mud.  I will take this opportunity to note that NASCAR fans can seriously constuct some of the most amazing structures out of plywood and 2x4s.  Simply add a couch and voila, perfect track-side viewing. 

 

The morning after inspired me to consider that NASCAR is what you get when you have the people of Walmart/state fair/flea market as one unique species all mixed with alcohol.  It was Animal House with more mud, minus teeth and college educations.  And Danica Patrick's pinup (shes' the girl driver).  Because I always make sure that when I go somewhere in my RV that I pack the tiki bar, disco ball, and mechanical bull.  Oh, and the flag of my favorite college football team (which would have to be Alabama if I didn't want my trailer set on fire by a rival).

 

 

Now, I won't go into the moments when we were able to sign our names on the racetrack finish line, watched all the drivers do the catwalk, or got a tour of pit row before the race.  Nor will I go into how Kai and I snuck back into the pits for the "Drivers, start your engines" part.  What I really want to impart on everyone is that, despite all that cool stuff, my kids were more interested in throwing rocks into the leftover puddles than in watching cars go 200mph. That and getting beads from anyone offering them.  I have to say, they understand this whole immersion things better than the rest of us.  We'll have to work on curing them of the accents!