Dragin at Mile High

The Slushy Gutter Crew ventured out this weekend to take in the Mile High Nationals at Bandimere Speedway here in CO. Some highlights:

-A strange detour as the night begins as we stop at a smoke shop. I figure someone needs some cigars. But no, the purchase? Snuff. JBiz** calls it "anal snuff" and juvenile humor ensues.

-The second stop is at a C-Store for tall cans. A sign on the door offers an "upgrade" from an old soda glass to a new one. Parting with my 1994 Jurassic Park cup will be bitter but in the end well worth it.

-The tall cans are a frosty reward for a hot day, however TDub*** cannot open his. According to him the pop top is "broken." According to the rest of us, he is the broken one.

-We are listening to Special Ed and talking dirt track racing. The conversations fuse together and somehow Special Ed owns and operates a dirt race track.

-What crowd do I expect at the races? Strictly the redneck white-bred sect. However, I am wrong. There are black rednecks, Hispanic rednecks, Goth rednecks, gangster rednecks, hippie rednecks, etc. Drag racing: the great unifier.

-Pickles* jokingly says "they don't serve beer here." TDub looks at him and says "I'll kill you."

-One dude is wearing a Motley Crue tshirt, another an Iron Maiden shirt. These aren't the ones you can buy at Target, these are straight from 1986. Somewhere, the 80s Commish* is rocking his jean jacket but countering the headbangers with his Public Enemy shirt.

-Anti tobacco crusaders wouldn't like this venue. Smokers galore. Dudes with a half a can of chew in their grills. And of course, our resident snuff user. JBiz still chuckles when he calls it "anal snuff"

-I hate Bud Light Lime. To me it tastes like stale Bud mixed with lime Kool Aid. I hate it even more now because they are selling 24 ounce cans of it for $11.

-Motorcyles are racing now. They are like some futuristic Tron like bikes.

-After the bikes are done, every pit guy comes out and combs the track. It reminds me of the giant comb from Spaceballs. I chuckle to myself, but no one else is amused.

-Decepticon Sean's brother has six Bud Light bottles with him. Not six empties, but six full bottles. That's $36 worth of hooch for one guy. In college I could buy a keg of beer for that.

-Some very helpful necks break down most of the proceedings for us during the funny car runs. The drivers don't necessarily like the high altitude racing in Colorado. Somewhere Mike Hampton agrees.

-Each run (about 7 seconds) costs about $15,000. Obama's stimulus has apparently trickled down to drag racing.

-Ashley Force is the superstar of the proceedings. Her shirts are everywhere and her paddock is mobbed by fans. Unlike some of her hot female counterparts in other racing disciplines, she is actually one of the top drivers. Still, the main comments from fans are about her tits.

-The noise, vibration, and flash of the car shakes everything from my eyelids to my ball sack. Next time, I'm wearing a jock strap.

-My earplugs could supply enough wax for a candle. Someone send the Commish some damn Q-tips.

-Jeez Steve** and some other patrons have gotten themselves into a near Battle Royale near the starting line. Think Sharks versus Jets standoff in wife beaters and multi colored racing hats.

-It starts to rain and lightning heavily during the top alcohol fuel dragsters. We're going to need a big damn squeegee.

-The snuffer in the group has become Tyrone Biggums with the damn stuff.

-During the rain delay we venture to the beer tent in the paddock area. It smells like piss.

-I take a tour of the Skoal tent. I have to fill out more paperwork to get into said tent than when I registered to vote. After I fil out the needed paperwork, a buxom blonde in a skimpy Skoal outfit asks "What brand do you smoke?" to which I reply that I dont smoke. She asks a follow up of "what brand do you chew?" And my answer is the same. The look on her face is somewhat saying "then why the hell are you in here?" The look on my face is 1- it's raining outside and 2- you and ten other girls are wearing slutty outfits.

-The rain and lightning aren't letting up, but the beer is still flowing. Someone buys some fries with a gallon of ketchup and they are gone in 7.23 seconds. They timed us on the big board, it is the best time of the day.

-With the weather, we venture to the Rock Rest Saloon in Golden for a burger and cold pitchers. There's a guy there dancing with his pool cue like he's Patrick Swayze and it's Jennifer Grey.

-Word comes from the track (Jeez Steve has stayed behind) that racing will resume. The masses scatter like roaches to catch the festivities. The Commish take a pass and suddenly he is solo with a full pitcher.

-I grab a pool stick. I'm gonna freak that damn pool cue like no other. No one puts pool stick in the corner.

(NOTE: number of * denotes number of Slushy Gutter titles)