SEPANG MOTOGP 2005
Obscene amount of visual illustrations. Be warned.
Happy Children’s Day, peepz!
The photoshop-idiot could only resize the pictures, and thus, if they look unpleasant to the eyes, I am sorry about that.
Images are a tad pixelated, thus, do click on them for a clearer view on those pimples and enlarged pores.
But heck! The focus is not me!
And strangely, after this trip, seeing the bulging tummy, flabby arms actually make me feel good about myself.
I mean, I used to be pretty anal about my weight issues, and the excessive lard is pretty obvious in all the pictures, yet I see a healthy me, who has *sometimes* come to terms with her new, rounded body.
So, bye-bye arms, double chin, pear-shaped body, eye bags, rashes, so be it!
I just wanna illustrate my trip. Yeay.
And confession time: I have revert back to the SPGism I was in January. Though I had always preferred Asian males to Caucasians, I have decided to reconsider my options, again.
*Bites lower lip suggestively*
***
I still feel not quite up to it to be blogging about the trip.
Yet, I guess I gotta start from somewhere, somehow.
*Takes a deep breath in*
So much, that I don’t even know how to start.
But, one thing for sure, I have been an extremely good girl on the trip. *Grins*
And this has gotta be the best trip ever in my life, not only because of the surprises that were thrown our ways, but the unconditional kindness we had been showered along the trip.
Though some offers would raise a sceptical brow or two, the most important thing of all, and the thing that touched me most of all, was actually people who played supporting roles to the whole event, especially the Tempora boys.
Who are they, you ask.
Read on, I say.
***
It was a sunny Friday morning at 9.40am, when I received a call from my partner in crime, who brought the good news that the green light is on for the trip, and that we would go ahead to meet up at 10.30am, Golden Mile, for the 10.45am coach up to Kuala Lumpur.
Whee.
And you would think we were excited. But no, we lacked zest and enthusiasm in our voices, though it had been something we had been talking about since returning from that frutiful trip in January.
And yes, who could have forgotten about THAT trip I raved about, which induced a mammoth length, 12, 000-words entry from me?
I am not sure if you should expect anything less for this entry, though.
But yeap, the trip didn’t start off on the correct note, with 2 grumpy individuals bugged by issues of the reality.
Work stress, cluttered minds, and such that don’t sound too pleasant at all. It pretty much killed off majority of the eagerness we should be having for the trip.
The best part of all?
Hurhurhur.
You guys won’t believe this.
At 10.30am, I just managed to board a cab, which means that I would definitely be late.
Raf called and she too, would be late.
*Gasp in absolute horror*
We managed to contact the bus company, which told us the bus would only wait for us for 5 minutes, max.
At 10.50am, I was just exiting from Rochor, and when I finally reached Golden Mile, it was already 10.55am.
The bus, *cough* had left.
I tried contacting Raf, but to no avail, only to receive a SMS from her that she was still stuck in the jam, and we might as well let the bus go, and meet up at Bugis instead.
And thus, Bugis, I went.
We were supposed to meet at McDonald’s, but she was held up by the jam till much later.
For another half an hour, I was still unable to get her, until half an hour later, I heaved a sigh of relief when she messaged back to tell me she was actually in the loos, and would meet up with me once she’s done.
As I stood to wait for her, the giddiness and nausea overwhelmed me.
Oh, I guess I didn’t mention that I started the trip with a pad wedged between eh?
Yes, that bloody time of the month.
How timely.
She finally called at 11.40am to meet at the money changer within Seiyu, and she was a picture of fatigue from a sleepless night, coupled with work stress and issues.
We were almost too dejected to go on the trip with the awful start.
But, I was adamant that we should getaway from the reality, to make the best out of the trip. It would be what we make out of it, and it certainly wouldn’t be pleasant if we assumed it would be crap right from the beginning, no?
Thus, I tried hard to put on a strong front despite the nagging slight depression and discomfort.
We made a quick decision to dash down to Golden Mile again, to rush for the 12 noon bus.
11.55am, we reached. Up the coach, we went.
As the bus cruised along the expressway, it was as if it was bringing us further and further away from the emotional baggage we left behind in Bugis.
We, were actually, escaping from our reality, into a fantasy world, that awaits.
It was then, we finally, slowly but surely, grew detached from that awful introduction to the day.
Though, the excitement was peacefully still, it was slowly brewing as we discussed if any of them would still remember us, and talked of the anticipation of meeting the pals we made earlier in the year.
We exhaled, albeit with a tinge of uncertainty.
***
She didn’t have any sleep, whilst I only indulged in 3 hour or so of disturbed rest the night before.
Look into our eyes, and you would see us in a state of trance. Makeupless and totally unglam. Who would still look at us and remember us?
Boohoo.
The same lack of zest, made us reluctant to abuse the trigger much. Thus, throughout the ride, this was the only picture that we took, just for the sake of taking.
The bus ride was almost excruciating. We tried to sleep, but were distracted by the movie, Unleashed, which was aired on the bus.
The 5 hours bus ride took 6, because of the appalling traffic condition in KL. It was off-work peak traffic on a drizzling Friday evening.
We got off at Puduraya, and immediately went to the ticket booth for a pair of return tickets.
People had been nice, and the only silly incident was when this petty woman refused to sell tickets to us cos we had snubbed her when she had tried to get our attention(seriously, we were more of in a daze from the intense touting all around us).
Yet, this very nice Malay uncle, who works for her, kept us away from her view, and went up to her to ask for tickets on our behalf.
Having a Malay teacher with me on the trip, is indeed a wise move. Muahaha.
As we finally greeted the polluted air out in the open, we were clueless for our next step.
Perhaps one thing you have to learn about us, or you already did from our previous trip, is the fact that we go by ‘We shall see‘ rule.
The rule is that, we would do everything one step at a time, and we would only decide our next step when the time comes.
Truth is, neither of us knows KL well. Raf would normally wait for my cue, whilst I would try to work my way out of something I have no knowledge of.
It’s like, if Paolo didn’t offer to book accomodation for us, we would have planned it only when we get there.
We didn’t even bother to get any tickets for MotoGP, though we didn’t have to. But the main thing is, we didn’t even quite bother to ask how Paolo would arrange to get us in, or if we had to get our own tickets.
We had only gotten a pair of coach tickets up to KL as preparation for the entire trip.
We didn’t even plan for the return though we knew we had to return by Sunday night, and had only decided to take coach when we reached Puduraya.
So, as we stood at the cross-road, we had no idea if we could actually take a train or something, cos we weren’t even sure if they have a train station at where we would be staying put at.
Just then, a cab driver came up to us and quoted us 50 ringgits for the ride.
Now, don’t we all know that such a price is exhorbitant and atrociously marked up?
But, for a 30-minutes ride in peak hour traffic with toll charges thrown in, we did some currency conversion, and found it to be a-okay. It was drizzling, we were tired, too.
‘40 can or not?‘ Raf bargained.
‘45 the least,’ the uncle offered.
It was then, my instincts kicked in, and I did something I am not-so-proud of doing.
Apparently, how everyone had commented I have a *cough* sweet, babyish, squeaky, feminine voice had gotten to me a tad too much.
I immediately put on a doe-eyed pitiful look, and darn, that alter-ego of mine possessed me.
‘Uncle… 40 ringgits really cannot? Can laaaaa…‘ with a girlie grin thrown in for the full, high-pitched effect.
He then immediately waved us into the cab. -Gasp-
I got onto the cab, and realised that ammonition of mine(Art of Teyhing) had came instinctively, totally unplanned. I awed, and shocked myself.
I should have bargained for 30 ringgits or something.
The cab ride was yet another long one, with the drizzle slowly brewing into a full-blown storm along the highway.
We were then caught yet in another jam.
We received a call from Paolo but the reception was too bad for us to hear him well with that Italian accent. We quite couldn’t wait to see him. A message came in and he said he would reach back the hotel at 7pm.
The supposed 20 minutes car ride took 45 minutes, draining us even further.
I was more relieved than thrilled when I finally saw Subang Villa in sight.
I got off the cab at 7.10pm, and took a second more to take in the sight of this familiar place.
The place, where the church camp was, last June. (Yes, don’t remind me how slim I was in the past)
I did my little conversation with God as I stood in the lobby, and it was a quaint reminder of the sweet memories He had for me last year.
Checking in was a swift breeze since we had a room booked under Paolo‘s name, at corporate rate. The 2 of us were getting paranoid that we might bump into Paolo at the lobby cos we didn’t want him to see us at our worst, you see.
We paid the deposit in full cash, and was left with little ringgits.
It was then, when the girlish grins and saccharine sweet voice came into play again.
We were told the room was on the 3rd floor, and I requested for higher floors, with a childish pout thrown in.
Unintentionally, I swear!
Mr Iskander over the desk very kindly gave us a room on the 15th floor instead, and even cracked a joke or 2 that reduced us to giggles.
Charming lad, I say.
No Raf darling, I still insist that I didn’t flirt with him. I don’t flirt. Really.
***
We finally checked into our room, all drained and tired, eager for a shower to sober up.
Finally. I can’t say how glad I was to finally settle down for the night.
Raf told of her scary encounter the previous time she slept next to the bathroom, and thus, I took this side instead. We had lamented how it wasn’t a king size bed, or else we could snuggle up close for some mumbo jumbo.
Kidding.
After I took a shower, did a quick cleanse of the face, change into something fresh, the door bell rang as Raf was in the showers.
I greeted the door with a huge grin when I saw Paolo standing right outside, and I couldn’t hide my glee when I lunged myself at him for a huge cuddle and squealed in delight as I was so thrilled to see him.
For the first time on the trip, I felt the excitement kicking in.
Perhaps, the immense elation of seeing a pal after so long, outweighed all.
It was a quick catch up before he excused himself to freshen up since he had just returned from the track. It was 8pm, and I would suppose his job isn’t quite an easy one.
After Raf was done with her shower, we placed a call to his room, and a nice, soothing voice came online.
Some Italian, with a velvetish voice, spewing English fluently.
He passed on the message to Paolo, and we set to meet up at the lobby at half past 8, with the decision-making thrown our way. KL town, or hotel’s restaurant.
Cool, plenty of time for us to doll up to hide those tiredness.
We decided on KL town, since we would probably not have much a chance to go there.
And, it was time for us to take on Kuala Lumpur town.
What a difference eh? But still, the lifeless eyes are evident.
The glam duo sashayed down the lobby, to find Paolo talking to someone, backfacing us, whom we assumed was a lady.
Er… mistake on my part, it was actually Andrea, the darling who answered the call when I called their room earlier.
Andrea, is one of the gems we discovered on this trip. He’s just so darn innocently sweet, like, a, er, hobbit.
We got on a cab for Kuala Lumpur town centre, and the mesmerising, loud lights of the night painted an enticing picture of glamour, accessorized by all its buzz.
It was on the cab, that Andrea learnt how we got to know Paolo, and he didn’t take long to learn, with help from Paolo and Raf, how I am always the bimbotic one who always can’t keep up with the conversations as I tend to drift away swiftly.
He also learnt of how we ended up sleeping on the couch of Pan Pacific in January.
Not an exactly the cool and sleek image I had wanted to portray from the start.
We also learnt that he is 26, birthday’s on 22 March, and is a brilliant singer.
We strutted around town, catching up as we walked, and knowing more about the new friend of ours.
That dearie even guessed I was 22 and Raf, 23. I was beginning to like him already.
Paolo had decided on Chinese cuisine, but the use of lard would mean it wasn’t appropriate for Raf, thus we decided to walk down the stretch of downslope to seek for other restaurants.
I struggled on my heels as we swaggered down it, and Paolo lent an albow to guide me along as he witnessed the hilarious sight. For that, I shall not fault him for laughing at my clumsiness.
Andrea was quick to throw in a jibe on how Raf was managing better on the heels than I do.
We saw a Brazilian restaurant stacked away in a quiet row of eateries, and in, we went.
My first ever Brazilian meal, ever!
Us, after a fulfilling meal of freeflow of grilled meat. I slouched so that Andrea could be seen in the picture. Gee.
Gosh, it was so yummy that I promise myself I would go for yet another Brazilian meal in Singapore soon.
Darn, I didn’t know I would get addicted to Brazilian stuffs so easily, like how I did, for… *cough* the Brazilian wax.
And not to mention, the soccer team. And the man named Roberto Carlos… Not sure if you heard about Brazilian men and their supposed generous *cough* sizes.
Oh, I got too carried away, didn’t I?
The meal was fantabulous.
We even get to see how Paolo looked like when he was younger(with hair too!) and he was, I tell ya, god damn gorgeous, alright.
Though we had insisted on buying them dinner for their kindness in helping us with the arrangements, they were stern when they asked us to put our wallets away.
We left for the hotel straight after dinner, as the girls were looking forward to a good night’s rest for the next day.
It was past midnight when we finally got back, and it was at the lobby, where we met rest of the mafias guys from Tempora.
Tempora is the official freight company for MotoGP, and 8 of their staffs were in KL for this race to make sure all the bikes were unloaded and loaded without any glitches.
We were standing outside the hotel’s club, almost bidding the 2 of them goodnight, when we heard the booming music.
Then, this tall giant walked out, with a menacing look on his face, his greasy hair slickly combed back.
Right beside him, was a man with long, silver hair, with facial features that reminded me of the dwarves in the famous Snow White stories.
The rattled in melodious Italian, and we realised they were actually the colleagues of Paolo and Andrea.
For a moment, the characters from Mario Puzo’s Godfather came vividly to mind, and I started to fit their faces to the characters in the book. They actually looked, scary.
It wasn’t long before this guy with a funny mustache appeared and disppeared into the club again within a blink of the eyes.
How odd these people are, I thought.
We decided to drop in for a short drink, and opted for orange juice and fruit punch as we chilled to the rather trashy music, and enjoyed the company of the guys.
It was then we realised, the guys weren’t so scary at all. They were actually big boys, enjoying their time in KL with the KL agents.
The best part of them was, they were all gentlemen who are goofy and entertaining, but never, ever sleazy.
Paolo, Andrea and us chilled over a drink.
The very comical Massimilano(Max) who doesn’t speak much English, but liven up the mood with his exaggerated talks and gestures.
And the friendly, gentle giant, Marco. All 2 meters of him.
The Malaysian agent, Terence, with the Tempora boys, Marco and Silvio. Suddenly, we were like the mafias’ women.
Muahahaha.
It was then I made a shocking discovery.
And I started to think about the theories about feet-size, fingers’ size and thickness in relations to… well, you know?
If those theories are true, tell me what this means:
My feet Vs Marco‘s feet.
And my hand Vs his hand. -gasp gasp- Look at those fingers.
I bet some Singaporean guys’ would look down at themselves and cower in shame, cos they might not even match up to his fingers.
Now, I wonder if anybody would get turn on just by staring at his fingers or not.
If you are asking me, no, is the answer.
The club was filled with weird uncles and aunties who were pretty entertaining. They danced in such atrocious manner that we could only cringe and snigger to their absurdity.
The Italian boys were even game enough to raise their hands in the air when the band played the classic Cantonese song, Hai Kuo Tian Kong, by Beyond.
They were a bunch of darlings who were a joy to hang out with.
We retreated at around 1 plus as the guys partied on. Hit the showers, dried my tresses, removed the makeup, charged the camera’s batteries before I tucked myself snugly under the duvet to end a tired, but pretty interesting and heart-warming first day in Kuala Lumpur.
The blues from the start of the day, finally faded without a trace left.
***
Saturday – 24th September, Qualifying Day
We dragged our tired bodies out of bed at 8 am, after less than, or around 6 hours of sleep.
We would be heading down for a quick breakfast, would later join Paolo and his guys at the car, and they would drive us down to the track at 8.30am.
I got the horror of my life when I realised it was a bad hair day. Had originally wanted to don a skirt for the day, but decided to stick with jeans, and a tube top for a more even tan.
Yes, I am vain enough to be thinking of that.
It was terribly embarrassing cos we had kept Paolo and guys waiting cos we had yet to have breakfast when it was already 8.30am.
Had contemplated of skipping breakfast but Raf would probably not last through the day without it, and we wolved down the buffet in record-breaking time.
And we had held up the 3 guys(the rest were having a day-off!) by 20 minutes, which till this moment, I still feel awful about.
The anticipation was slowly building up as we travelled on the MPV. It was just peace and quietness on the ride there, because the guys with us were Max and Francesco, who spoke minimal English.
I broke the ice by smiles and hand gestures to make communicating easier.
The magical moment came, when Paolo handed us the key to our highlights of the trip.
The paddock pass, as a guest of theirs.
The 3 of us, at the back of the MPV.
Finally, the Sepang Circuit beckons, and we reached there, fully charged with enthusiasm.
We joined them at their container box, which is their makeshift air-conditioned office.
The layout of the paddock area was such that there were 2 rows of containers.
The row facing the pits, and the row behind, the front row of containers.
The row behind consisted of the hospitality suites, where food and refreshments were cooked for the teams, and the front row of containers were the resting suites for the riders.
And of course, the main pits for the bikes, and the air-conditioned technical rooms attached at the back of the pits, where press releases were given out, and strategies were discussed.
We were at the back row of the containers, which meant we were amongst the hospitality suites for the team.
I couldn’t resist playing with the mini bike as we stepped into the office.
We then headed straight to the ladies to put on our warpaint, since we hadn’t had much time on hands to pile them on at the hotel.
Just as we stepped out of the office, and turned at the corner to the front, we bumped into a friendly face who was all smiles and sunshine.
And there stood, the first MotoGP rider we met on our trip, Colin Edwards, who is Rossi‘s team mate in Yamaha. Right outside the container, where his resting suite was at.
Since his container was stacked away in quite an isolated corner, there was no mob of people and we could have some time to make small talk with him, before he had to prepare for his free practice session that morning.
Tsk tsk. Bare makeup. Ghastly.
The big boys of MotoGP were out there for their free practise(FP), and we stuck around in the office, observing the boys indulging in their work, and being extremely cautious not to interrupt them.
They had a very interesting way chilling their food and beer.
Francesco had to climb up the chair to get the meat and beer from the air-conditioner vent, and he was so sweet to pose for me again when he had actually already got off the chair.
Next time, when you invite guests, be sure to be careful who you are inviting.
Do not invite freaks who would end up doing such to you while you are looking all serious and working:
*Giggles cheekily*
Perhaps, I have yet to let known that, the office, was actually right next door to the Yamaha hospitality suite, where Rossi, Colin Edwards, their team, and the Fortuna Yamaha riders and team had their meals and such.
As we ventured in and out of the office, 2 very friendly faces waved at us, and seeing that the room was empty except for the 2 of them, we boldly stepped into unknown boundaries.
And that, changed our course of the trip, in a snap of fingers.
They very kindly invited us into the hospitality suite, offered us drinks which we accepted, and lunch, which we politely declined.
Meet Nino on the left, and Nicky.
And yes, they were cooking pasta for Rossi!
In fact, Nino was so nice that, he allowed me to play with the food when I had joked that I want learn to cook.
And yes, this is the suite right next door to us.
So, technically speaking, the team had tried my cooking. Sort of, right?
Muahahaha.
It was when we were walking out of the suite, when we decided to take a walk down the paddock to catch the riders, when a guy in HRC team shirt, entered the Yamaha suite, just as we were making a move.
Nino then introduced us to him. Guido, he was. Apparently, Guido had asked Nino if we were his friends, and he would like to talk to us.
Guido then called out to us, just as we were leaving, and came up to us.
And THAT, was supposed to be the turning point of our trip.
***
I have yet to mention how much charm Raf had and the attention we had been getting as we strolled in the glaring morning sun.
She had this guy coming up to her to take pictures with her, though we were just like him, another fan in the paddock.
And then, whilst we were leaning against the wall of the Pit lane access, a weird guy held his camera up to take a picture of himself, with Raf standing in the background.
What he should have done was ask for a picture to be taken with her, and I would gladly be the photographer for him.
When we were having a drinks break at the paddock restaurant, she bumped into the mechanic of Carrera LCR team, whom had asked for her number the previous year.
He recognised the babe, came over, all besotted with her, and asked if she would like to be the grid girl for his team.
Take this, his team has one of the top riders, Casey Stoner, and Roberto Locatelli.
All I had were workers in orange overalls, sneaking their cameras out of their pockets, and took a quick snap before they found me smiling at them, and put away their cameras embarrassingly.
So shy.
As we walked down the stretch of the lane, we saw a girl who has really nice legs, and I was admiring her slim body, commenting that she looked gorgeous from where we were standing.
At that very moment, as we stood there, the Taiwanese girl who was there with her pals, came up to us and asked us for a picture taken.
It was pretty quaint cos we were just discussing if she was gorgeous, and she had to prove that she wasn’t when she walked upclose for us to notice the plain face. And the irony was that, we were admiring her when she had wanted to take pictures with us.
We noticed many cameras were panning in on us, and before long, we were elbowing each other to inform where and which camera was directing at us, so we could both look up and flash a free-of-charge megawatt smile for whoever.
Results? We found our pictures on some sites, and one of such is by Ron, whom I tried to contact, and he replied me almost immediately despite being busy in Qatar, and sent me the original!
As I strolled past the Suzuki pits later, the mechanics who were gathered outside waved and I waved back and chirped a nice ‘hello’ to them as if they were long-lost friends.
The Ducati’s mechanics who were sitting in their resting container, waved to us from inside their suite, as we walked past as if we were faces they see everyday.
It’s interesting how Caucasians could wave and say ‘Ciao’ or ‘Hello’ so warmly, without that hint of sleaze that you would have felt if you are walking past a group of gawking Asians. Those coffeeshop uncles, especially.
It was barely 11am, and our egos were stroke beyond recognition.
It was almost tiring.
***
Just then, it was 11, when the free practice had came to an end.
We saw a familiar figure strutting out of the Repsol Honda Team pits, and it was that of Earl Hayden, Nicky’s dad.
He was so sweet to stop by to chat to us, and passed us some post cards, and an orange wrist band like the one he is wearing.
I then requested to hold Nicky Hayden‘s helmet to pose for a picture, and I am not sure if it was the right move, cos the helmet was all wet and sweaty. I could feel the squish squash as my fingers grasped the inner lining of the helmet.
I had my hands covered with Nicky Hayden‘s wetness. Oooooo.
It wasn’t long we were stopped yet again, this time, by a crew from Piperace, a media company in Malaysia.
They were looking for faces for interviews, so that they could flash it on the mega television on race day to as fillers.
What’s up with the silly expression? I have no idea.
It became really hilarious when he started asking about our past experience with the riders earlier this year.
I joked about getting kisses from them, and kissing them on the cheeks in return.
I was thrown off my path when they asked who is the best kisser among them all.
If my memory didn’t fail me, it was more of me pecking them on the cheeks than anything else, so the question was pretty redundant.
I gave a puzzled look, and gave a cheeky look to imply that it wouldn’t be nice if I were to name names.
They asked for a clue, and Raf, who was by my side, prompted me with, ‘Start with a B!‘ as she sniggered and laughed at the hilarity of it.
If you have read the post dated back then, the only kisses I had gotten from was from certain Mr B and Mr R.
I should have said Mr R. Darn.
Just then, we saw a familiar face, and I got all excited!
I know it’s pretty unconventional, but I saw Giorgio, the chief mechanic I had blogged about from Duke, who had given us a lift back to Pan Pacific the last time round.
To me, he is so drop-dead gorgeous, a Bruce Willis lookalike.
As he strolled past, I aimed my camera at him, he smiled so brightly for me, and even blew a flying kiss at me.
*SMITTEN*
Sorry, I just have a thing for older men. *Grins*
Few seconds later, Raf’s prince charming emerged from the pits, in his sheer lining, all sweaty, no less.
Once again, I had my hand soaked in Nicky Hayden‘s wetness.
Muahahaha.
As usual, he remembered Raf from previous years, and despite being tired and fresh from track, he was pretty nice to ask her how she was doing and stuff like that.
Giorgio then walked past to head back to his team’s pit, when I requested to have a picture taken with him.
Just as we were taking the picture, he suddenly planted a smooch on my cheeks, and took me by surprise.
It’s no wonder I look kinda forced in this picture.
And if you notice the background, the underwear that was hanging outside with the Honda T-shirt, belongs to Max Biaggi.
That very same afternoon, he hung another of his underwear outside his resting suite.
One of Emporio Armani.
I had my sights fixed on it as I was walking past it alone, wondering if anyone would be bold enough to be an underwear thief in such circumstances.
When I walked past it, I turned back to yet steal another glance.
It was then when I turned to my left, did I realise there was camera crew filming me as I was strutting down the stretch, and they must have caught me gawking at Max Biaggi‘s underwear a tad too long.
Sheesh. Die. Now everyone would know mistake me for a potential underwear thief.
***
The midnoon sun was blazing, basically baking us alive at the track.
In the midst of the crowd, we caught a glimpse of yet another rider.
Kenny Roberts Jr.
It was barely a minute after the above picture was taken, when the highlight of day(well, er, one of the highlights anyway) scurried past us in a blink of the eyes.
Two tiny figures, with excellent bod, were striding out from the pits right before us, that of Yamaha Fortuna, and disappeared into the Media Centre Access area.
I thought they resembled 2 hobbits, with the lady beside them, much taller than they are.
It was pretty swiftly before they were out of sight, and I recalled the guy in front with the dark, smouldering good looks, had such a fantastic bod that I muttered a ‘Oh my… Woaahh..‘
Despite his lack of height, his broad shoulders and V-shaped body was absolutely yummy.
I wiped away that stray drop of drool from the corner of my mouth, and decided it would be too rude to intrude at that moment to take a picture with him.
It wouldn’t be possible anyway since we were standing quite a distance from them.
Raf decided she needed the ladies, and from experience, I know how stuffy the ladies could be.
Since there wasn’t any need for me to use the loo, I decided to stay outside to wait for her instead.
It was barely 2 minutes, when I saw one of the hobbits emerging from the males’, and I suddenly realised they were both in the male toilets.
Which means….
Yes, right at the moment my thought grazed the possibility of seeing the hottie, a one hellava sturdy and hot body sashayed out of the washroom, with his hand on a towel wrapped around his waist.
I recognised him immediately. The cutie by the name of Toni Elias Jr.
I held my breath, as he walked towards the direction I was at, my eyes widened, heart smittened.
Right then, he glanced up, and our gazes met, and I felt a tad embarrassed, and looked away.
Oh my freaking God. Those eyes.
He gave a charming smile, as he noticed me surveying him as he walked past me.
With his pretty friendly attitude, I called after him.
He turned and I asked, a tad bashfully, if I could take a picture of him since I couldn’t possibly take one with him as no one was around.
(On hindsight, since no one was around, I should have just grabbed him to a corner and….. Joke, okay, joke.)
He gave an enchanting smile and gave a generous, ‘Sure!‘ as he stopped by to pose for me.
I giggled with a bundle of nerves, feeling totally embarrassed, and he responded by sniggering at my nervousness as I took a picture of him…
… half nude.
HOOOOTTTT OR WHAAAAT?
Breathe, Ting, breathe.
It was hard to let the chance go by just like this -snap fingers-, and I decided to try for a self-taken shot, as I wrapped my arms round his naked waist.
I didn’t expect the effect to be such scandalously delicious.
He was incredibly obliging, and he started a conversation with me, laced heavily with the Spanish accent, which is pretty sexy.
‘Where are you from?‘ Gee, those eyes were sparkling as he spoke.
‘I’m from Singapore.‘ I might have blinked excessively due to the butterflies in my tummy.
‘How did you get here?‘ Darn, he flashed that million-dollar smile, as his eyes squinted.
‘I took a 5 hour bus ride.‘ I stuttered a little, voice mellowed to a gentle tone.
‘What’s your name?‘ he asked.
‘Ting.‘ -Glee Glee Glee-
‘Ting? Ah, hi. When are you going back?‘ he held my gaze.
‘Tomorrow, after the race.’ I tried looking away, but had no idea where to look. I tried convincing myself I wasn’t blushing.
I mean, I could only look down cos he was much shorter than me since I was wearing heels. But, looking down when he was only wearing a piece of towel wasn’t quite a wise move, no?
‘Tomorrow? You staying? Tomorrow we have a party. In KL. You want to come? We have drinks together?‘ He looked at me intently as he asked eagerly.
‘Tomorrow night? But I might not be able to make it. Where will it be?‘ I was almost hyperventilating at this point.
‘Kuba pub. You know where?‘
Giving him a look of cluelessness and uncertainly with furrowed brows, ‘Erm, no.. where is it at?‘
‘Westin Hotel? You know where that is?‘
‘Ah, okay, I have an idea,‘ I nodded.
‘So I see you there? Tomorrow?‘
‘We shall see.‘
Just then, Raf came out of the loo, and I immediately get her to take a picture of the 2 of us.
As he sashayed away and bade us goodbye, Raf zoomed in on the shot of him wrapped in a towel, and… wooo, hot. Sizzling so.
(You gotta zoom in on the original to know what we were talking about. Hurhurhur)
Gee, I gotta say this again. He is just so darn freaking hot. Period.
But he’s younger than me by 2 years. Darn.
But, I happened to see a picture of him, that’s so much hotter.
The come-hither look is such a killer!
As we returned to the office to chill, we bumped into his team mate, Ruben Xaus, who is actually a tall hunk with fabulous bod as well, sun tanning on a chair near the hospitality suite.
We took a bit of courage to approach him cos he looked pretty stern and cool, but is in fact, a very sweet chap.
And you should have seen how his cheeks are flushed and blushed when under the hot sun.
This is no good, I am swaying too much towards the Yamaha riders.
In fact, I thought the picture we took look like a bridal shot. So sweet.
Muahahaha, I wish.
After a break in the office, where we enjoyed the air-condition away from the scorching sun, we stepped out into the horrendous weather for yet another walk around the paddock.
While we passed by the Yamaha hospitality suite, I went in to say hi to Nino and Nicky again, when the Japanese mechanic stopped and asked Nino who I am, right in front of me.
I laughed at the silly moment, and we exchanged a handshake before he nodded at me with a bit of shyness, like the Japanese always do, as he gave me a boyish smile and waved bye to me.
Was walking down the same stretch again, when we saw the pal I had been looking for – Pepe!
Pepe is actually Alex Barros’ personal assistant, whom we had gotten acquainted with since the testings.
We chatted occasionally through emails and MSN, and we had been looking forward to meet each other since the pleasant encounter with them the previous time round.
Alas, they were both very busy on Saturday, and we could hardly catch them at the right time. In fact, it was quite a shame that we didn’t get to see Alex at all that day.
Mick Doohan was hanging around the Camel Honda pits.
He was actually chatting to Shane Byrne, also known as Shakey.
It was time for us to take a break at the Paddock restaurant, where we saw an endless stream of cuties, especially that of BQR team, where a handsome dude captured all of our attention.
It was also there, where a photojournalist, Kamarul, from The Sun Daily took a liking to Raf, and asked for her number.
He helped us to take a few pictures throughout the trip too, but we had yet to contact him for the shots though.
As we headed down to the paddock again, we heard the stuttering from a scooter behind us.
Before we knew it, a herd of people mobbed up to the scooter, and we realised it was yet again, Colin Edwards.
As he stopped to let the crowd take pictures of him, and with him, he was ready to move off from the growing mob when I went up to him to request for a picture.
Out of nowhere, I thickened my skin and asked, while pointing my finger to the seat behind him, a bit sheepishly, ‘Is it possible for me to take a picture with you while sitting behind you on the bike?’
I cringed after splurting out the question, knowing full well that if the rejection comes, it would be in full view of a huge crowd.
His reply was instantaneous.
In his most uplifting tone, and a flash of brilliant smile, he gave a tilt of his head egging me on, and a sleek wave of his arm to beckon, ‘Sure! No problem! Come on up!‘
I could hear the envious gasps as I crossed my leg over the seat of his bike, winding my arms around his waist on the number 5 scooter.
He’s such a sweetie!
I’m in lurrrvveee.
Hey wait, he’s married.
Darn.
Look into the reflection and you would know how many others were taking pictures of him as he rode past and they too, captured me on his bike when he gave in to my request, to their surprise.
Raf then hopped on for her turn.
Next, we saw John Hopkins, and we jokingly asked if his car had mysteriously gone missing again.
He replied not yet, though he didn’t know if it would later end up on the container or not.
We passed by the Repsol Honda Team pits, and saw Mick Doohan chatting to Nicky Hayden, and thus, we stopped by for yet another picture.
The cool and aloof look.
And then, there was Tamada.
Time seemed to pass pretty swiftly, and evening drew near.
And, Jerry Burgess, who was so keen to be taking pictures with us that he joked, ‘This is why I love my job.’
I hope you meant it, darling.
As he walked away, we turned to see a hunky dude with a pair of shades on his high, pretty nose.
The shades made him look almost intimidating, and we hesitated if we should approach him, as I looked on to him with that uncertainty written all over my face, checking to see his reaction.
He has a look of strength, almost look unapproachable.
Yet, when he saw us looking on, unsure if we should go up to him, I gave him a ‘can we…?’ look, and he immediately gave a jerk of his head, and waved us over with a smile.
His greeting was that of ultra-friendliness and sweetness as he enquired where we were from, and that pretty much put us to ease.
Carlos Checa. A very charming man, I might add.
And his smile was filled with utmost confidence.
Out of nowhere, while taking with us, he announced with the sexy Spanish accent, ‘I will always smile taking pictures with you guys.‘
Though we had no idea what he meant, I would suppose he meant he is always pleased to be taking pictures with ladies.
Somehow, I feel he looks more like a F1 driver than a MotoGP rider.
As we walked away, more people came up to him for picture taking, he then walked past a mechanic, and shared a private joke.
The mechanic showed him a middle finger, and he cheekily returned one as well, much to the amusement of the few present, and made everyone laugh.
I gave a look of disbelief, and wagged a finger, saying, ‘I saw that!‘
He looked up at us and threw us an impish smile.
Suddenly, he halted in his path, right before us.
‘What are you guys doing tomorrow?‘
Blarblarblar.
‘What time you heading back home?‘
‘Maybe we could have dinner together after the race, okay?‘
Too shock to respond, we just nodded and gave a crisp reply of, ‘We might have to head back tomorrow evening. But we shall see and let you know again.‘
‘Okay, see you!‘
‘See you tomorrow!’
Raf and I threw a what’s-with-us-today look and marvelled at our string of blessings.
Casey Stoner was within sight next, and we closed in on him for a picture.
We looked as if we were taking a class photograph more than anything else.
The 20 year-old went on clinch the top spot of the podium on Sunday for the 250cc race.
Did I mention his girlfriend is a pretty babe?
We seemed to be in a string of luck, when few minutes later, we bumped into Loris Capirossi, and a horde of his fans mobbed him just before we could get to him.
I was standing by the side waiting for my turn after Raf had her picture taken with him, and he noticed my hesitation to go up to him when the others had went up to him with lightning pace.
He turned to look at me, egged me on with a sweep of his hand as I backed away, and gestured the others to wait whilst he took a picture with me first cos I had been waiting right from the beginning.
So sweet!
After which, we decided to venture back to the office to rest.
As we were indulging the cool, chilled air, I took a breather by venturing out to see what was happening.
To my utter amazement, there, I saw, Valentino Rossi inside the hospitality room right next door!
I walked past it, and waved to Nino, before scurried back to the Tempora office to inform Raf.
As we emerged from the office, Vale, too, was making his move to exit from the room, where a mob of his frenzy fans all flocked up to him to have their pictures taken with him.
Raf managed to be one of the firsts to get a picture with him, and the moment when she was done, I had wanted to step up for my turn.
But the big, burly, fervent fans of his lunged up before I could, and I decided to back off by retracting my steps since they were already throwing their arms around him for picture taking.
Right at that very moment, my darling Vale saw me backing off, he creased his brows slightly, gave me a don’t-back-off, come-on-over look and gesticulated me to go on over with his left hand.
*Gasp* He was taking extra care of me. *Touched beyond words*
I stepped up a tad abashedly, afraid the others might throw me dagger stares as they were fighting for their turns.
As I walked over to him, the same enthusiastic fans we clinging tight to him as their friends snapped for them.
I didn’t think it would be nice for me to be in the picture, you see.
Vale threw his arm around me, grabbed me by the shoulder, and discreetly took a step forward away from them, so that the 2 guys would not be in the picture he took with me.
Even as he stepped forward, the 2 guys had pounced forward too, but he slightly extended his elbow in a subtle way, to shove them aside, so they would stay away while he took the picture with me.
*GASP GASP GASP*
Awwwwwwww……………………
Then I requested for another picture, when I tiptoed up to plant a smacker on his cheek.
I could have the silent gasps from around, and I was lucky there weren’t much female friends around.
Raf had took quite a bit of time to snap the picture, and I had stayed in that position, indulging in the moment for the longest time.
I could see my lipgloss mark on his spikey cheeks.
And yes, it’s pretty ticklish to my lips.
He immediately excused himself right after the picture was taken and rushed off to mount his scooter to avoid the growing crowd of fans, and refused to take any other pictures.
Right then, Raf went up to him to ask if she could take a picture of her behind him on his bike, and he gladly obliged.
Awww! He’s such a sweetie!
She mounted the bike and half stood on the foot peg, so that Rossi would not block her, with a blissful grin on her.
But the sudden rush of picture-taking and the lack of space for proper angling, I became the culprit that caused the picture to be poorly taken cos I didn’t manage to frame the bike into the picture.
*Sulks in guilt*
Still, it was a pretty picture of the 2 of them, looking all happy and smiles.
By then, it was around 6 in the evening when we finally wrapped the day up, and Paolo informed us that we would be heading back for the hotel.
Guido saw us leaving, and arranged for dinner, as he and Nino had hoped we would join them for dinner that very evening.
We promised we would give them a call or drop them a message to arrange for the night again.
It was around 7 when we finally got back to the comfort of our room, all bushed and maxed out.
We were so tired that we dropped to our knees and sat on the floor the moment we entered the room, and could barely find the last trace of energy to shower, or anything else.
I could only struggle to take off my contact lens, and lean my limp body on the couch, with an empty mind that refused to work.
We had wanted to do some shopping in the nearby mall, but could summon nothing within to do that.
Eventually, the best we could do was to head down to the convenient store within the hotel to do some necessity shopping.
We did our part and called Guido, but he didn’t quite call back either, which suited us fine cos we just didn’t want to go anywhere else besides resting early for the night.
We had wanted to show our appreciation to Paolo, but could find nothing there that could possibly be decent enough. Chocolates, was what we had settled for, and 2 small cards, one with the Chinese words of ‘Thank You’, another was the Malay equivalent.
We finally met up with rest of the boys at the lobby at 8.30pm for dinner in the Asia cuisine restaurant within the hotel, and I didn’t care if I looked like a complete wreck with ruined makeup, puffy eyes, and framed by a pair of nerdy spectacles.
Dinner was a warm and fuzzy affair.
I love those big boys. They were the sweetest creatures we ever met, and quite frankly, I miss them a darn lot. Even Raf agreed that we miss them more than the riders.
You see, they were such gems because of their hospitality, and they were very accomodating and friendly despite their days were packed with loads of work and they were usually tired at the end of the day.
Imagine you are up to neck with piles of documents and freights to arrange, and 2 squealing girlies lingering in your sight, asking you for favours and distracting you from your work.
Or that you could not speak their language, yet you didn’t want to make them feel left out.
They treated us as ladies and were protective and gentlemanly towards us.
The dinner dragged on for the longest time but it wasn’t that much a chore cos of the brilliant company, and I learnt 2 important Italian words.
Fanculo and Bucudiculo.
I asked if I could try it on the riders the next day, and laughed that it was probably not a very good idea and I shouldn’t.
Listening to them speaking in Italian was like watching a musical by itself.
Especially so when we listened to Andrea‘s soft, tender, melodious voice. So much so that we even recorded it down and I would just watch the clip in silent awe and admiration.
Over dinner, I also learnt that the 2 other very stern men whom I was fearful of, were actually darlings too.
I blame it on their mafia-like exteriors for the initial reservations.
Finally, I found a picture of Marco not smiling, which portrays the initial threatening impression he had given me.
But he is actually cuter in person when he’s not smiling. Quite sexy, ya know?
Us, and the Tempora boys.
We should have gotten them to take a picture with expressionless faces, and the 2 of us would give a cold, snobbish smirk.
It would definitely look suspiciously like a picture of a mafia triad with their mistresses or something.
Muahahaha.
White and black combination somemore, you know.
One picture in the pretty garden before it was time for us to hit the sacks.
By the time we got back to our room, it was almost midnight.
Did some quick packing up, washed my hair, showered and such.
Lights out.
It was a day to look forward to, after such a fruitful, and blardy amazing one.
I felt something big and hard as I slowly slipped into a deep coma. I realised it was my ego.
However, the sleep wasn’t at all that pleasant, cos the early night wasn’t something my body was accustomed to, and I woke up at 5, and found it hard to finally sleep again.
***
It was 7.30am when I was roused from my sleep.
I wished I had more time to sleep my bad skin and bad hair away.
It was 7.50am when Raf finally emerged from the showers, and I had washed up, changed, packed, put on some light make up, and dashed out of the room at 8am to check out.
10 minutes! Is that a record or what?
Raf had yet to finish packing nor dry her hair when I left the room, so the plan was that I would check out first, and I would meet her at the breakfast area so we wouldn’t be late again on the 2nd day.
Piercarlo and Marco were having their breakfast when I chanced upon them and I joined them at their table as I waited for Raf.
Piercarlo wasn’t as intimidating or unfriendly as I thought he was.
As he was the boss of the entourage, he had offered little smiles when we first met and his eagle-like sharp eyes portrayed not only confidence and intelligence, but also, a certain coldness.
That morning, my impression changed.
He made conversations over the breakfast table and he asked of my age.
25, was his guess, and it was near enough. It was then he revealed he is actually in his 40s.
I was flabbergasted and had thought he was in his thirties and honestly told him so.
His reply was unexpectedly friendly and sweet when he gave a hearty laugh and said, ‘Thank you! I like you very much.‘
Raf joined us shortly after and we had wolved down our buffet breakfast in record breaking time cos we didn’t want the rest to be waiting for us like they did the day before.
Piercarlo had thought I was of mixed blood, though I had always thought I look 100% Chinese.
Most people had mistook Raf for other races than her own, but it was rare for my case.
He had thought I was of Chinese mix, definitely, and had thought I had some other blood, perhaps Malay, in me.
Interesting.
As we got to the lobby, we realised they were still waiting for Silvio, who finally sashayed across the lobby with his lugguages in tow, pace brisk.
Piercarlo was quick to gave a sarcastic praise of ‘bravo‘ after another, which prompted Silvio to look sheepishly at his watch and muttered some sexy Italian in response.
The guys were checking out cos they would have to stay up to work for the entire night to ship some 260 tonnes of freight out, and it was a long day ahead for them. They would then leave for the airport straight from the track the very next day, deprived of rest.
After some arrangements, we were to follow Marco and Andrea in their MPV, with 3 others taking another. The 3 who had went down to the track the day before, would join them only later.
In the car to the track, makeupless, dreamy eyes.
Marco had pampered himself with a new iPod Nano! And I couldn’t resist but played with it. It was so nice and I wanted one too.
The car was stacked with lugguages, and 2 pale, lethargic ones.
Reached the track around 9ish, and we immediately dashed to the washroom again to look more presentable.
I found out the brilliance of sunglasses when I had asked Marco if he could lend me his, so I could walk to the washroom without feeling too self-conscious if I were to bump into anyone.
The sweetie gladly obliged, and slipped his off his greasy, sleek, mane.
The morning was an incredibly slow one to start with, with most riders hidden away from the waiting predators, like yours truly.
We strolled around the upper floor, and pretty much baked by the immense heat.
We went back to the office, and then, decided to dart out of the cooling place for yet another walkabout.
The interesting thing about this trip was, whenever we proceeded on for a short walk, we would definitely chance upon someone, or met the person we had been looking for without the need to wait or looking for them on purpose.
This time, we were just strolling when we saw a man in his team shirt wandering out of the back of the pits, and there was hardly anyone who recognised him.
As we walked up, a flock of people appeared from nowhere, and took him, and us by surprise.
He didn’t see us in the beginning, as many Japanese went up to him to take pictures with him. We waited at the side for our turns.
As he took pictures with the others, he smiled only slightly but still, politely, and had turned his back as he tried to retreat back into his cove though there were some more people waiting for their turns.
‘Hey Alex, can we take a picture with you?‘ I asked as he was about to turn away, heading back into the pits.
He turned, and it was as if the memory registered, he broke into a big smile, as if his face was litted up. He halted, and stopped in his path, turning back to face us.
I still have no idea how to decipher that look.
He remembered us.
‘Hey! Sure…‘ and he chirped and had opened up his arm to egg me forward before I had walked over.
‘How are you doing?‘ he was the first to ask as he encircled his arm round my shoulder.
‘Fine and how about you? Ready for the race?‘ I snaked my arm round his waist as we engaged in small talks.
Raf went up and he gave her an once-over and commented, ‘You had too much sun?‘
She didn’t get what he meant, and apparently he was trying to say she gotten quite a tan from the sun.
We were forced to learn telepathy throughout the trip. Ha!
He lingered around for a little while more as we held up others who were waiting eagerly for him.
We didn’t want to hold up the crowd, and wished him good luck, and that we would catch him around again at a better time.
There wasn’t any better time. That was the last we saw of Alex Barros for the trip, and we didn’t even have the chance to bid him or Pepe goodbye personally cos we didn’t get to see them after the race.
He was such a turn-on that right after we saw him, I went to the washroom to finger myself.
*Gasp in utter shock*
Wait a minute.
Not true.
Well, wait, half truth. The latter half.
We did make a dash for the washroom after that where the other highlight of the trip took place, but it wasn’t because of him.
Muahaha.
***
For mature audiences only. Be warned. Explicit details not healthy for the mind and body.
One of the most interesting things that happened during the trip, was the fact that for the first time in my life….
… I had tried using a tampon.
First time, and the only time.
The hilarity is beyond your imagination, I tell you.
I had never tried, cos I didn’t dare to stick something up there.
What an irony, you might think.
In Raf’s words, ‘If you can take XX(who is supposed to be -cough- well-endowed. Actually, oooo, hell ya, he IS), I don’t see why you don’t dare to use a tampon.‘
I rolled my eyes at her. It’s different! I don’t dare to stick something up there MYSELF!
But the flow had became a hassle on the trip that I had to do something, especially I would be wearing a short skirt.
She passed me one of her tampons, and shooed me into the cubicle to try.
I was trembling with fear with that thing in my hands.
It wasn’t before long that I stepped out with a torn pack, and asked her which side was supposed to be up first.
She laughed at the absurdity of my ignorance.
I made sure I had all the technicalities clear, before I went into the cubicle again.
I shall not mention how she gave me step by step instruction as we were separated by just the toilet’s partition.
‘Open you legs wide… bend your knees… stick it up.. push the applicator.. take it out…‘
‘Cannot! The posture so ugly!’
‘Cannot! I could feel it there, so uncomfortable! What’s the string for?!’
‘That means not deep enough.‘
‘Then how?!‘
‘Lift one of your legs up and push it in with your fingers.‘
‘WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?! NO WAY!‘
‘You want me to pass you another one to try until you get it right?’
…………………..
‘I can’t tell you how much I can’t believe this is happening.‘
It was excruciating I tell you. Traumatising, I tell you.
I took a huge roll of toilet paper, and tried to shove the darn thing in, until I could not feel it.
Cool. My first tampon experience.
I shall not mention how I had to have Raf right outside the cubicle to teach me step by step how to pull the darn thing out when I had to change it in the evening.
‘Raf! If I need to pee, how?!’
‘Raf!! I don’t know if I should be saying this. But I don’t dare to pull it out, can I don’t?!‘
I could almost hear her rolling her eyes, as she told me I could get sick or die if I don’t.
I finally did, though almost couldn’t cos I was extremely tense.
I gave up, and stick to/on a pad instead.
Now, I just find the whole incident too cute to ignore. Not that you guys have to know.
And phew, that was, my first.
***
We bumped into Henry who passed some stuffs to Raf, so that she could get Nicky Hayden to sign on them.
He then told us some of the people we know were over at the support races’ tent, and we took a walk down a paddock, out of it, and strutted to the tentage near the carpark, on the othe end.
Cameron Donald was taking part in the superbike support race, and had won with a big lead, beating 41 other bikes on the track.
We also met Joe, Milton, Martin, who were all there to support him, and for the MotoGP.
It had been 2 years since I last saw Cameron, and it took him a rather long while before he frowned and as if making a great discovery, ‘You took off your braces didn’t you?! I knew there was something different when I saw you just now but I couldn’t seem to place it!‘
Yeap. And the weight gain, he forgot to add. Oh, the curls too.
It was nice catching up with him again, and he was the Mr Nice Guy as he always was.
We stayed around for an hour or so, chatting and sitting around, before we headed back to the paddock area to look for Guido.
***
It was approaching 1pm.
We selected a pile of clothes and lugged them to the washroom.
We changed out of the smelly, sweat-soaked garments we were wearing in the spacious shower room.
It wasn’t long before the stuffy washroom caused us to wet the cropped tops we had newly changed into.
I sat on the dry floor, not wanting to move.
There, we fret over the sizes, and our body fats.
I was already severely sun burnt and I hated the sight in the mirror.
I was engulfed in fatigue.
***
Here, Guido of HRC Repsol Honda Team.
Don’t ask me why I looked so forced. If you have your face facing the sun, you could hardly smile properly.
Remember? I made a brief mention of him in my recap for Saturday. *points upwards*
What had happened over the talk on Saturday:
We were pretty surprised as he tried to make small talks with us, asking what were we doing at the track, and where are we from.
The small talk then evolved as he asked if we would be around for the race on Sunday.
Of course, we didn’t hesitate to reply. I mean, why else would we be there for, no?
It was then he asked if we would be occupied for the rest, or would we be free to help out.
That was then, when the bombshell was dropped.
‘I was thinking if you girls could hold the umbrellas for us, because the girls who were supposed to fly in had some problems. Would you like to?‘ he asked in thick, Italian accent.
We exchanged a look of disbelief, gave him raised brows, one of incredulous scepticism.
He saw our bland responses, and read that puzzled looks on us.
‘Umbrella girls? You sure? For what team?‘ we asked coolly, and slightly confused, doubting his genuinity.
‘Honda,’ my mind drifted to the lesser known Honda teams, and wondered if he meant the lower classes or the less popular Honda teams in MotoGP.
Then, he continued, ‘HRC Repsol Honda.‘.
Just then, our breathing accelerated, and we immediately inhaled hard, and held it quickly.
‘For who?‘
‘Nicky Hayden and Max Biaggi.‘
Raf and I reached for each other’s hands and grabbed it hard. The most natural and immediate reaction we had, was, a loud, piercing shrill.
‘Oh my God! YOU KIDDING? You sure?!‘
Okay, a side tidbit here.
Before we embarked on our trip, there were already plans and talks of us becoming brolly girls for the event.
Our first choice that we had decided upon back then, was actually, the HRC Repsol Honda Team.
Raf is a fervent Nicky Hayden fan, and Max Biaggi had replied my email personally a couple of times after we met earlier this year.
Thus, I thought it would be cool if we could be their brolly girls, cos if it were Yamaha, we would end up embroiling in a catfight over who should be Rossi‘s brolly girl, though most probably I would certainly have to settle for second best.
It was then, we were informed that Yamaha needed their girls on Thursday forth, and we couldn’t possibly make it there in time for that since we would only be going over on Friday.
She had egged me on to leave Singapore earlier so I could at least get the gig, but it was too awkward for me to be there in KL alone for 2 days before she could join me.
So, eventually, all talks were off, and HRC Repsol Honda was off the list cos they had contracted models.
For that, Mr Ex had jokingly mocked that we were N.A.T.O. = No Action, Talk Only, when he realised we weren’t heading to Sepang earlier, and had no chance of becoming brolly girls.
No, we are not models.
And I am just a very plain jane who isn’t quite what people would expect to be a grid girl. Most probably, I am the kind people would criticise and scrutinise just because I can’t quite make the mark.
Truth is, I believe it is my karma. I was always making the meanest comments on the people on the grid, you see.
The reason why the talks earlier took place was because our friends were kind enough to want fulfil this little wish of ours, to have an experience of a lifetime.
Something we could have done without, too.
BUT!
The sudden twist of event…. shed a glimpse of hope.
Guido expressed his regrets that it would probably be a cashless gig, and of course, we didn’t seem to mind a wee bit.
But, was he kidding, or was he for real?
We confirmed our interest and showed quite a bit of overwhelming keenness.
If I were him, I would fear for the lives of my riders in the hands of such crazed fans.
He then walked away briefly, asking us to wait at the side of the containers of suites.
Less than a minute later, a roly-poly man in the same shirt as he was, walked briskly to the Honda hospitality suite at the other side of the lane, and took a look at us.
From a distance, we could see him giving an approving nod, and gave a thumb’s up, before giving Guido and ‘okay’ sign.
It was then, Guido gave us his number, so that if we couldn’t make it, we could give him a call.
Seriously, I am not sure if I did believe in him at all, that moment.
Still, we were too thrilled to think about anything else. And we decided to take a picture to seal that particular magical moment after arrangements had been made with Guido, as we continued on our paddock walkabout.
We sat on the freight boxes, where Guido had stopped us.
It was 10am, Saturday, when the irresistable offer was made to us.
We then indulged in talks of doing last minute shopping/manicure/pedicure for the big day, and how we should pray for a good hair day, and that they were not some evil men playing silly jokes on us.
I mean, hello? One of the world’s most successful racing team, ya know? Why would they want us?
The only reason I could think of is that they were enticed by Raf’s exotic beauty and I had rode on and rubbed off her glory.
We had to pinch ourselves, slap ourselves silly, just to absorb the surreality into us.
Gosh, this is not going to be true, isn’t it?
We started to think that with the kind of crap luck that started our trip, most probably, we would be replaced or taken for a ride.
We soon tamed the expectations just in case there would be disappointments, and continued our walkabout in the paddock area, wondering what other surprises might come our way.
That, was Saturday. And as Sunday drew near, and the time to the race was approaching, we suddenly realised…
It might be real, after all.
***
The scars on my legs.
The arms, thighs, midriff were a devastating sight.
My heat rash was coming out.
Raf’s size didn’t fit and I had to run out after I got changed, and enter the HRC office to dig into the huge pile for more selection, which there was barely any.
After some demoralising scrutiny, we decided we might not be able to pull the gig off, afterall.
At there, at the corner of the bathroom we shared to change, stood the essential pairs.
The umbrellas.
But we were too self-conscious to feel any triumphant, or any excitement.
We became rather hesitant, and discouraged.
It was then, to face the world. Quite literally if you think about it.
We decided, it was what we make out of it.
We should enjoy it while it lasts since we had make it thus far.
***
I had promised Andrea that he would be the first to see us, changed.
Our first stop was to head back to the Tempora office to put our stuffs down, and show the guys.
Andrea had emailed me this picture, and he said, ‘don’t we all look so cute in the picture?‘
Actually, he does look so adorable in it!
Marco helped us to snap a shot with Paolo too. The problem is, when your photographer is too tall, he would end up cropping the lower half of your bodies away.
And, you have to accomodate to the framing when you are taking pictures with a giant.
By then, we had to get ready to meet Guido to head for the pits at 2pm.
We headed out of the office with our umbrellas in tow, checking our reflections in every surface possible.
Just as we were walking towards one of the container suites, we stared right forward to check for the flabs, and breathed in a the sight of my tummy.
It was as if I saw some movement beyond the tinted surface.
I realised it was someone who was waving at us.
We waved back, and I cheekily ventured on to press my face to the glass to peep the one waving at us from the inside.
To my amazement, it was yet again, Colin Edwards, who was sitting in his seat, watching the 250cc running, chilling to the air-condition.
He was in there alone, looking all relaxed and I had the audacity to open the door slightly, and popped my head in to say ‘hello’.
He certainly didn’t seem like he was going to race in less than an hour’s time.
Most of the other riders would have found this intrusive, I bet, but he was all nice and sweet, and greeted us in return as we asked how was he doing and feeling towards the race.
‘Can we come in?‘ I asked light-heartedly.
‘Sure, come on in!‘ he answered in his usual generous, high-spirited tone.
I looked at every corner of his resting suite, and saw a copy of FHM lying on the bed.
Then again, he wasn’t the only rider whom we had seen with lads’ mags, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.
And the rack that held several helmets which are labelled for use for what occasions and such.
Yet again, this picture seems so wrong. What am I doing with a Yamaha rider in that gear?
Tsk tsk.
We made some small talks if he was going to prepare for his race soon, before his friend, I supposed is his assistant, came in, and greeted us in equal enthusiasm.
We scurried off as we had to meet Guido at the HRC suite at the other side, and bade goodbye to the good-natured men.
It was in the suite when we realised one of the brollies wasn’t working properly and Guido had it sorted out.
Whilst he was doing that, 125cc rider, Manuel Poggiali was in the suite having his lunch, chatting to them, and we took the chance to be trigger-happy again.
He was quiet-natured, and very soft-spoken.
Sadly, that was the last picture ever registered with my camera before I had to surrender all my belongings, and was only allowed to carry my umbrella.
Darn. Or else I would have captured every single thing in sight that would give a visual illustration of my experience of a lifetime.
***
We were led to the pits, where I realised I hadn’t had my pit pass with me.
Duh.
Such a doofus.
I ran back to the Tempora office and was out of breath.
We went back to the pits, and were given a tab that says Grid Access, as we tunnelled past the many busy mechanics who were preparing for the race.
We were led past to the front of the pits, and were supposed to stand there beside the bikes before the riders came on.
Earl Hayden then saw us and came over to say ‘hi’.
***
It was then, we took on our positions, and stood in front of the massive crowd, as the grid girls for Repsol Honda Team, with the roaring RC211V pumping our excitement, bit by bit.
***
I took my side towards Max‘s bike, and realised all the mechanics had their ear plugs on.
I gave one of the mechanics a playful sulk and wondered why we had no ear plugs.
The bikes roared to life, and strangely, I wouldn’t want to have the effect of the adrenalin rush of hearing it upclose muffled either.
I browsed over my shoulder towards the demure Konica Minolta girl on the pit to my left, and gave her a girlie grin, which she very nicely reciprocated with a mesmerising smile.
I saw her ear plugs as she stood there gracefully and I scrunched my face and pouted as I pointed out to her that we didn’t have any.
I walked up towards Raf, and suddenly saw the familiar faces sitting within the pits, on their Sparco seats, looking all cool and competitive.
I looked straight at Max Biaggi, wondered if he had recognised me. I could not read those expressions behind the sunglasses.
It was then, I saw him bringing up both his hands and waves slightly with a smirk to my direction.
I glanced around me, and wondered if he was waving to someone else instead.
Perhaps, it was the audiences he was waving at.
I have no idea, still.
Apparently, someone had captured the moment as I walked towards Raf.
Too unclear. Sigh. I wish we could have found more pictures of us in the pits and on the grid, but there was hardly much.
It was then, the riders were inches within us, as they mounted their bikes, fuelling the monsters between their legs on with a furious twist of throttles, before they vanished before our sights, leaving us in awe.
The mechanics then walked swiftly to take their places on the grid, whilst we had to follow the respective mechanics.
Raf had move on out first, as I joined in the tirade of surging people, mechanics with tire warmers in hands, personal assistants with towels and water tumblers, brolly girls sashaying, strutting their stuffs, charging towards the grid to prepare for the riders to finish their lap and join us at the grid.
It was such surrealism as I looked around. I wished I had borrowed VampTreSS’ camera to capture each of the faces I saw, because the scenerio itself would have made a brilliant series of stories.
It was there, you would see anxiousness, taste competition, witness vanity, sense power, absorb anticipation, and dwell in the impact of fame.
Blank, pretty, serious, smiling, cool, pensive, eager, anxious, worried, busy faces.
I wonder if there was one, as lost in thoughts as I was, suddenly sensing fear.
Just in that less than a minute when everyone flocked onto the grid.
It wasn’t that of the glamour factor of standing there that awed me anymore.
It was a quaint feeling, as if I had dwelled deeper to the whole experience, and evaluated myself of the things that had happened in the past years.
How the first and second trip to Sepang MotoGP, had differed so much from this trip. Or even from the testings earlier this year.
I took my place, and decided against facing the crowd. I bet there would be familiar faces that would doubt the worthiness of me standing at where I was.
I would rather, back-faced my fears.
Ironically, the smiley-faced Ting throughout the trip, had became cold and nonchalant.
Pretty much absorbed in her own thoughts, and evaluations and observations of the going-ons taking place.
Scrutinising each and every face, each and every procedure, and staring right beyond the tinted visors of riders as they rode past me to take their positions.
I saw Pepe walking past me, and he noticed me.
I flashed a bubbly smile to show that I was glad to see him, and even cheekily gave a childish scrunch of the lips to say ‘Muacks’ as he walked past.
A growl from behind startled me, and I turned to see the rider charging towards my direction, before making a swerve to the left, stopping right next to Pepe.
Alex Barros was right next to us on the grid, and in the same row, was Colin Edwards.
It was then, the HRC mechanics tapped me a little, and I backed a step to make space for Max‘s entrance, thrusting the umbrella over his head as he came to a halt.
There wasn’t any interaction between us on the grid, though he had turned to speak to his mechanics who was beside me.
My face was so near to his face as I stared as those eyes as he spoke seriously to the guy.
I breathed in.
There were photographers and cameramen, but I didn’t smile.
I don’t know why, but I just didn’t.
Eventually the picture that came up on MotoGP website, was horrid as if I was forced.
YUCKSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
Oh well.
Raf looked really good in hers, and she even got feature on Yamaha site and Honda’s site, where they featured Nicky Hayden.
I wish I could say how much I hated the picture.
Anyway, the devastating thing was, we couldn’t see ourselves on television. Because apparently, we were told that we were given extra air time and our faces could be seen on television longer, and clearer than most others.
I WANT TO SEE!!
But, the repeat telecast had left out the grid actions and left us disappointed.
Then again, it is probably for the best that I didn’t get to see it.
Mr Philip, had kindly branded me ‘bitchy’ in the clip cos I wasn’t smiling.
Bitchy! Gosh. God! Good Lord!
Someone said I was sulking.
Another one asked why did I look so snobbish.
Most asked why I didn’t smile.
Now, I really do feel good about myself.
The only decent picture of me on the pit, was a blurred one, as usual.
But I have to thank the singaporebikes.com guy who sent me this after Philip had let known that I was on the grid the other day.
The only ‘interaction’ I had with Max Biaggi, was when the brolly wasn’t covering him well enough, and he reached for my hand on the brolly, and pulled the brolly closer to him.
It was then, the time for the race to kick into action, and for us to take our exits.
As the HRC mechanics took a bit while longer than usual, I was one of the lasts that left the grid.
Interestingly, someone in the forum had captured me in a few pictures as I was walking off, though it was incredibly blur since he took it from the grandstand.
We proceeded back to the pits, and if anyone could read my mind at that point of time, what was repeated in my mind was….
‘Don’t fall. Don’t trip. Don’t embarrass yourself. Breathe!‘
In the past, when people had joked about the notion of me being a brolly girl, they would always expect that I would hit the rider’s head with the brolly or do something really silly like toppling the bike over or some sort.
I am NOT that clumsy okay?!
When we were back in the pits, they collected the Grid Access tab from us immediately, and we were offered drinks by some of the mechanics.
With their friendly gestures, we had stayed in the pits instead of changing out of our gears, or leaving the pits immediately.
We stuck around in the pits, cos we had wanted to get the groove of actions immediately, and the most convenient place for us to view was actually the television behind us, on top of the computer.
The race unveiled to a frantic start in the sweltering heat.
As we stood there, a very nice mechanic came smiling and offered us some place to stand, so that we could get a great view.
But the images were dark and unclear due to the light exposure behind us, and the mechanic brought us into the depth of the pits, where Max Biaggi was sitting earlier on.
There, all the chiefs and staffs were crowding around the 2 screens, and had their visions glued to the action.
We stood there, throughout the race, watching the intense actions, as if we were one of them.
If someone had filmed the intenss watchers in the pits, they would be puzzled to find 2 grid girls standing beside the bosses and crew, looking anxious and holding their breaths as the the riders challenged, which is definitely untypical.
Nicky Hayden was in the hope of getting a podium finish.
Until we heard Roger, the 46 year-old team coordinator, mouthed ‘Checa.‘.
Indeed, Carlos Checa was coming strong and furious from behind after Nicky Hayden was encountering problems after Sete Gibernau had rammed into him earlier on in the race.
Raf was evidently upset when Checa had overtaken Nicky Hayden, and had hoped he would crash out, cos apparently, he was notoriously famed for doing so.
It was even one of the rare moments I had heard her muttered ‘f**ker’ when Nicky Hayden and Carlos Checa were slicing and dicing for 3rd spot.
She had really wanted to witness Nicky to win a race, or to be up there in the podium.
The tension in the pits were thick. I held my breath and had hoped Max Biaggi would work out, and raced ahead in front of his 6th position.
But the figures on the 2nd screen was obvious, there was hardly any chance of him doing so and I was disappointed.
It would have meant a lot to us if we could have not only share the anticipation, but also the thrill and joy with the team that day.
***
It wasn’t long before the race was a wrap, and we there was a slight sense of dejection in us, despite we were secretly in glee over Rossi‘s title win.
It wasn’t before long that we decided to join the flock of people that were now rushing towards the podium, where the top 3 riders would come in and park their bikes beneath the podium for the celebrations.
Some people from singaporebikes.com had caught us in action as we were squeezing into the crowd, squashed and squeezed.
I was almost right at the front when someone elbowed me, and I was then standing behind this man and could almost see nothing.
I didn’t manage to see Rossi, and had only manage to see Checa and Capirossi.
After the horrendous episode of tight squeezing was over, then did I realise Giorgio, Nicky and Nino were right at the front, and I should have joined them instead.
Geee.
It was a riot and I couldn’t take much pictures. And most pictures turned out to be really bad.
The atmosphere was exhilarating when the Italian national athemn was aired, and everyone sang with pride.
I was slightly touched and turned to Raf, ‘I think I should start learning it, since I would one day marry day, soon.’
To which she shoved me to my senses, and woke me to reality.
It was then, I turned to my left, to a man in a red Yamaha shirt, after someone had went up to him to congratulate him.
‘Hello! Can I borrow you flag?’ I asked cheekily.
‘Are you going to wave it?‘ he was amused, and was smiling brightly as he asked.
‘Of course!‘
‘Sure! Here you go.’ he flashed yet another charming smile and passed me his flag to pose for a cheeky picture, before I passed it on to Raf for her picture with the flag.
It’s just so wrong!
Me waving a Yamaha flag, in Honda gear.
Geee.
‘Can I keep the flag?‘
‘Sure! You can!‘
‘Thanks!‘ I was grateful as I gave the brightest smile I could muster in the hot sun.
It was later, then did I realise, the friendly man, was actually the chief of Yamaha team…..
Woooops.
I was trying to look for a familiar face in the midst of the Yamaha crowd, but could not find him.
That of, Alex Briggs, Rossi’s mechanic, whom we didn’t get to see AT ALL during this trip.
So disappointed, was me.
But I later found a picture of Rossi on the grid and saw his face. He was there for the race!
Arghhhhhhhh.
Ah well. Sigh.
***
As I was walking back to the Honda pits, I was tempted to capture a few shots along the way.
The Fortuna boys were darn cool, cos they had allowed me to step into their pits to take a picture of Toni Elias‘ bike.
In fact, he was resting behind me, covered by the few guys standing around.
This picture is so darn wrong again. Why am I in the Yamaha pits?
Treachery!
Yet again!
Tsk tsk.
Please don’t tell the Honda boys alright?
Or perhaps, Yammies could consider *cough* me for their grid girls next year? *GRIN*
Rossi, Edwards, Elias or Xaus. I don’t mind!
We were back in our pits.
Since the real McCoy wasn’t around, I could only settle for 2nd best. Muahaha.
We were then given the all-clear to take whatever pictures we wanted in the pits as we roamed in it freely.
We had the audacity to sit on the riders’ Sparco seats, and snapping from within the pits.
Alas, the picture of me and the pit going-ons was overexposed and was too blurred to be posted up.
I even had the Yamaha flag in my hand(rolled up, of course) as I posed for the picture.
And this is me, in Max Biaggi‘s Sparco, which had the embroidery of The Roman Emperor at the neck rest area, and Max on the seat area, which you can see briefly er, in between my legs.
And here, I am reaching out for Nicky Hayden‘s uncapped drink in his seat, with the cooling system making a mess out of my hair.
His cap, his helmet, gloves and sunglasses.
Yes, I was so burnt and orangey that I don’t look myself anymore.
We exited from the pits and saw a very dejected Daniel Pedrosa who could hardly muster a smile after his fall on the 2nd lap of 250cc.
Now, I feel a tad bad to be smiling a wee bit too brightly in the wake of his crash.
Roger was incredibly sweet to go up to tell him not to be discouraged.
Roger and I, as we thanked him for the opportunity for this gig as he was the one who okay-ed us in the first place.
He was like a friendly teddy, and seeing how he had offered Daniel soothing encouragement like a big daddy further added on the admiration I have for him.
As we changed out of our outfits, we chanced upon Nicky Hayden, and had him to sign Henry’s stuffs.
He added a personal touch when he asked us if we girls had fun, referring to the grid experience we had earlier that day.
Yes, absolutely, needless to say.
I shall mention how he had winked at Raf after she had wished him all the best while on the grid.
He walked into the Honda pits to sit down, and Max Biaggi emerged and had a brief chat with him.
For the first time of my entire trip, I had caught Max Biaggi free from mobs.
It was almost like listening to 2 bikers having their coffeeshop talks as they gestured how the other rider had cut into their positions and how they had went into corners.
Finally, a picture of me and the man I shielded from the sun.
I should have another picture but it might take a while for me to get my hands on it.
Right after this picture was taken, we roamed along the paddock, with dwindling enthusiasm, but increasing lethargy.
I lost Raf along the way when she had found a chair somewhere and sat herself down.
Suddenly, I was standing right in front of the exit of the media access centre, when a guy clad in flaming red full suit emerged into sight.
I had wanted to go up to him, to offer my congratulatory, and asked for a picture to be taken.
It was Carlos Checa.
But just as I went up to him from his right, and was right in the path where he came from, the flock of people and media that went up to him was suddenly overwhelming him from the left.
He waved to them good-spiritedly and had wanted to walk away despite requests for pictures.
By then, I had halted in my path, put off by the crowd.
Yet he caught sight of me, and asked, ‘Yes?’
I had wanted to take a picture with him, I said.
In my head, I wasn’t sure if he was going to grant the picture cos he was walking away from the other requests.
And darn, there weren’t anyone in sight whom I know who could take a picture for me.
The moment I had asked, he stopped in his path, grabbed me by the shoulder, and dipped me into his arm, and I passed my camera to someone, as he waited for me to do so, arm still tight on my shoulder.
I was actually having jitters.
After the picture was taken, a bunch of people had built up, and he was walking briskly away from them. But because I had delayed him so, he had to stop for a couple of shoots, and autographed for a few.
He stopped for another twice, and on the 2nd time while he was signing a kid’s pit pass, he declined all other requests politely and excused himself to the pits.
Right then, I had tugged and tapped his elbow slightly, and he had felt it through those thick leathers.
He turned, much to my surprise, and I stuttered as I was in a sudden loss for words.
‘Hi,’ I mustered with a shy grin.
‘Yes?‘ He smiled. His tone was quick and precise.
‘I was wondering if…‘
Before I could finish my sentence, he did a quick check over his shoulder, and saw another mob of people coming up from behind.
Suddenly, a strong grip was placed over my shoulder and holding me close as the pull pushed me forward, walking briskly.
I was momentarily clueless.
I did a quick turn and saw the group of people was by then chasing after us down the stretch of the paddock, as we sashayed down with quicken pace.
He was holding me by the shoulders and egging me on with him to get away from the crowd, as if we were good pals and that he had ignored everyone else.
He turned to look at me, and asked, ‘You were saying?‘
I noticed some people, and photojournalists, had ran ahead of us, and took pictures of us as we strutted down the road together.
Temporarily speechless, I hesitated before I spewed forth, ‘I was wondering if I could get your email address so that I could send you the pictures we took.‘
‘Sure! You just wait for me here alright. I’ll be back for you in a while.‘
He vanished into the pits in a matter seconds.
It wasn’t long before we heard the entire Ducati team in some victory cheer and everyone was in good spirits.
It was then, the crew of Ismed and his friend who did an interview with us the day before, saw me, and came up to me for yet another interview, summing up my experience over the weekend.
I was so tired and he had asked me to give a kooky and quirky expression.
I think I did throw in a really ugly funny face for the camera.
Muahahaha.
Raf joined me shortly after for the wait, as we chatted to the 2 of them, and they gave us their namecards.
I had requested for the clips they had of us, and hopefully I could get my hands on them soon.
It should be rather hilarious.
An American man then had a long chat with us, talking about his experiences at various MotoGP, and we wondered when would it be our chance to step out of the region for other circuits.
Giorgio emerged out of the Ducati pits, and we tried talking to him and thanked him again for his lift in January.
He actually did remember us, but he could only nod, and then gestured, ‘English, little.‘ to tell us that he doesn’t know much English.
Our sentences became short and crisp, covered only by keywords.
Just then, I thought of taking a short walk across to the Yamaha Fortuna pits, and my walk was paid off when I saw Toni Elias.
I went up to him and was standing right at the entrance of the pits, asking if I could have a picture taken with him, with his clothes on this time.
It started a brief talk when I asked how was his ride today, and he gave a hurt-puppy look and shrugged, ‘Ahh.. shit.’
So… gorgeous.
But I had no one with me to take the picture me.
He called out to one of his crew members, and passed my camera to him.
Right then, my camera’s battery died!
At that moment, someone came up and asked to have a picture taken with him, and I frowned and pouted like a kid who’s disappointed.
I then turned to him, and said, ‘I go to take my spare battery, you wait for me, okay?‘
He smiled with a twinkle in his eyes, ‘Okay!‘
‘Promise you will wait here for me, right?‘
‘Yeah, I’ll wait.‘ And there the brilliant smile was ignited again.
I hobbled on my heels and found Raf at the Duke’s pit, and rushed to get my battery, asking if she would like to come along.
She took her bag and we went to the Yamaha’s pits, where the very dishy cutie was indeed, erm, waiting.
I was glad to still find him there, and I finally got my picture taken, though it was slightly blurred.
I actually thought he is so incredibly cute here.
I shouldn’t have wore my heels. Heck! I am even willing to give up my heels for him, you know?
As we stood there, we started to get engage in another conversation.
He asked if we would be going back to Singapore as we expressed regrets that we wouldn’t be able to stay for the night for the celebrations thereafter.
He then gave a what-a-shame Awww…
I then again, asked for his email so that I could send him the pictures. He agreed readily and whipped out his phone.
‘Your number? I send you by message,’ he gave the same boyish grin and I was mesmerised.
He…… asked for my number so that he could send me his email throught SMS?
*GASP GASP GASP*
I splurted out my number and was very cautious not to give the wrong number this time round(trust me, I did that to someone else before and I cringed in embarrassment after that).
The blur queen in me saw an incoming numberless call, and had wondered who that was, and I excused myself, wanting to answer the call when it got cut off.
I looked puzzled and he suddenly looked at me also a tad confused, and then pointed to my phone, ‘That is me.’
Then did I realise that he had wanted to give me a missed call so I could have his number, but because of the difference in network, my phone didn’t register his number.
His number?! *hyperventilating*
Then, he mouthed his number and we both keyed in his number manually.
I called back to give a missed call to make sure I got the number correct before I hung up.
He checked his phone this time round and wondered who called, when this time, it was my turn to smile like a silly moose, ‘Oh, that was me too.‘ and we both grinned for no whatsoever reason.
(When you have such language barrier, you could either frown, open you eyes wide, look confused, look helpless, or just, grin, grin, grin, and smile with your eyes twinkling)
He then turned to Raf and asked for her number too.
We continued chatting since there wasn’t any mob of people, and that he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go off.
We said we were leaving from the track to KL town centre to catch a coach back home when he asked when would we be leaving.
Raf then asked what would he be doing after leaving the track, and he had said that he would be returning to the hotel, eat, and go to pool.
I was starting to find the whole communication thingy very amusing, and was constantly grinning and chuckling.
Raf then took a bold move and asked if he could give us a lift to KLIA where we would be taking a coach back.
He had thought we had wanted to join him, and asked puzzledly if we meant we wanted to swim.
We said we needed a lift to the KLIA cos we had thought he had stayed at Pan Pacific Hotel.
The 2 of them then engaged in a very animated chat, which I had understood both parties, but they had no idea what each other was talking about, and was throwing me ‘What is he/she saying‘ look.
Which I responded by a silly look, which was equally helpless.
‘You take cab to airport?’ he asked in broken English.
‘No, we walk,’ Raf gestured.
‘Walk? No, no, you can’t walk,’ he gave a confused furrowed brow with his smile intact. Absolutely charming.
‘Yes, we can walk. Next to airport,’ more gestures.
After a while, their gesticulation got a tad confusing and they both gave up, looking helpess, as Raf finally asked me with a relented laugh, ‘I don’t know what he’s saying.‘
And he looked totally drop-dead gorgeous when he frowned, and yet still smiling helplessly and looking at 2 of us, totally confused, saying, ‘My English very bad!’ as if it was his fault.
So yummy-ly delicious.
Raf then used hand gesture to say we needed a lift to KLIA and then somehow, he managed to get what we said.
And we managed to get what he said too.
He was staying at the Equatorial, not Pan Pacific.
We told him it was okay, and we wouldn’t want to trouble him then.
It was then he said, ‘I drive you?‘ as if to offer the ride, still.
‘You can come back with me, take cab to the airport.‘
He had very kindly offered to drive us to where it would be convenient to catch a cab, despite the fact that he wasn’t staying at Pan Pacific still.
‘It’s okay,’ we declined politely.
He then offered earnestly, ‘No, it’s okay. You take cab. I pay?’
Awww. What a charmer.
It was then we thanked him and told him it wouldn’t be nice, before we bade him goodbye.
I stretched my arms to give him cuddle, and leaned in for the customary kiss goodbye on both cheeks before we headed back to the Duke’s pits.
Those eyes are such killers.
***
Right outside the pits, it wasn’t long when Carlos Checa emerged from the attached room right behind the pits, and waved to us.
I didn’t even recognise him cos he was different in a white-tee.
I have decided I prefer him in a white shirt/tee compared to red.
He was suddenly, refreshingly charming.
He waved us towards him, as he stood near to the door, and invited us into the room.
Raf was following right behind me when we stepped in to see race winner Capirossi and his wife were in the chilled room of the Ducati team too.
Raf later let known that Checa had mouthed a ‘Wow’ at her when he looked at her as she had stepped into the room.
What did I say about the charms of this babe?
He invited us to take a seat, while he went to the fridge to get us some drinks.
We were actually dying from thirst, and had wanted something else other than plain water.
Thank God! They had other drinks in the fridge and I settled for the sweetest Milo I had ever drank in my life.
I sat down, and browse the sight.
There was only one or two other personnels busying themselves on the computer, while Loris Capirossi was on a conference call, looking on by his wife.
He sat down and chatted with us in the room, and asked if we were indeed leaving that very night.
We expressed regrets that we couldn’t make it for dinner, and he tried telling us how great the team party was going to be huge and great, which I wouldn’t expect anything less with the Ducati having such magnificent finish at Sepang.
He muttered something in Spanish, I would suppose as he sat across us, and I had guessed he meant ‘What a shame‘, which he translated later on to prove so.
He stood up and got himself a piece of paper.
I don’t know who it was, but the immediate reaction of the lady was, ‘Oooo, check out those butts.‘
Indeed, indeed.
Salivating.
We had a short chat with where he is residing in, and that he truly adores London, and he was actually from Barcelona.
I have a feeling that after this trip, Italian men’s charms were overtaken by those from Spain, considering how charming Xaus, Checa and Elias are.
It was then Capirossi walked over to have a short chat with him, and we took the chance to take a picture with the winner of the race.
As we sat by the table, we asked if Carlos had ever been to Singapore, which he replied many times to the airport, but never the place.
Eventually, he gave us a slip of paper, and said we could leave him email and numbers so he could contact us in the future when he is in the region.
He also spoke with the uncertainty if he would be back for testings later this year cos it is still unsure which team he would be with for the next season.
I wrote down my number and email, and he took the pen to scribbled his for us.
It was the email of yet another rider beneath that of Carlos‘. No, not Toni Elias.
We bade him goodbye and finally prepared to leave the track for good, to return to home.
We went back to see the Tempora boys, and hugged each and everyone of the darlings goodbye.
I was already beginning to miss them even before I left.
I clung on to Paolo for the longest time and felt the surge of emotions rushing to my eyes.
He had been such a wonderful person, and I wonder when we would meet each other again. I was definitely feeling bad for all the inconveniences we brought him throughout the trip.
Like how we had to get our stuffs when he was in the midst of an important meeting and we had to intrude upon cos we had to meet Guido earlier.
The very innocent and wonderful Andrea, who is the ideal Italian man I wish to marry.
Awww…
Apparently, my goofy nature had rubbed off everyone. And I am so hurt that they weren’t the least sad when we were finally going away.
Don’t believe?
See:
I knew my arm would appear fat, but I was still adamant to take a picture of me giving them a goodbye hug nonetheless.
What kind of expression is that?! Max must have had hated me despite joking that I am his wife.
Look at Silvio! No tears, no sorrow, no nothing! Hmphf! They must have hated me. Boohoo.
Even Piercarlo joined in! I had adored them so, and this is how they treated me.
Talk about team spirit. Not only racing teams have it, alright? Hahaha.
It was the hardest, to say goodbye to them.
***
Finally, it was us, bidding Nino, Nicky and Guido goodbye.
Nino had been rather persistent to us staying, and earlier that day, he had tried for a long while to convince us to stay and join Yamaha for their post-party.
As Raf had to rush back, we really couldn’t afford to stay for another night.
I mean, who doesn’t want to party with the teams? And I wouldn’t mind staying for another night and hang out with the riders, right?
After Raf had made it clear that it was impossible for her to do so, Nino immediately turned to me and asked me to stay instead.
And how was I supposed to stay alone, right?
I told him I have to take the coach back and the ticket was already bought.
It would be a 5 hour bus ride and it would be too harsh to handle the journey alone.
He then said I could take a flight back and I gave him a standard incredulous look that it would be expensive for me.
He asked how much would a ticket to Singapore cost.
I seriously have no idea how much it would be, but had thought it would set my budget back by S$200 or so?
It took him just a second to reply, ‘I will pay for you. I’ll buy your ticket.‘
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What a sweetie…
But, it would just seem too weird to let him pay for me, and to stay back in KL alone, no?
I replied frankly that I couldn’t let him do so as much as I had really appreciated his kind gestures.
Maybe I should have ask for a ticket to join them Qatar instead.
Joke, okay, joke. I don’t believe in exploiting the kindness of others.
He was sweet enough to give us posters which belonged to him.
Treachery again!
And yes, that was my flag from the Yamaha chief.
***
As we walked out of the track, we bumped into Henry and his pals, who commented I was sulking and looking a tad too fierce on screen.
They then very kindly offered us a lift to KLIA, which saved our cab fares by a huge chunk cos a security cop who was working at the gate of the track, had offered his cab services cos it was almost impossible to hitch a ride there.
But, at a crazy rate of 50 ringgits!
We declined.
As we were wondering how to make our way to the airport, we saw this guy whom we had noticed from days before.
He is a cheeky fella who shares an uncanny resemblance to Rossi.
His curly hair, skinny build, cheeky grin and such.
We were right behind him and he knew we were checking him out.
He had to know, since we were trying to go ‘Pssst.. Psssst.‘ at him, and pretended nothing had happened when he turned to see us stifling our giggles.
He turned and threw a piece of paper at us cheekily before grinning like a young boy, and walked away with a haversack on his shoulder.
So cute, you know?
Then, as I was stoning, dazing into blank space, this team of mechanics were walking out to the carpark by the same gate, and one of the Japanese with the funky hairstyle was just then turning his head, and our gaze met.
He had an icy look of charm, deep, panning eyes, and suddenly, he gave a darn smouldering look, and winked.
I could have dropped dead there and then.
But, I was well-trained after 2 days around so many gorgeously charming men.
I took one last glimpse of the track that held much of my memories, and hopped onto the car, slamming the door shut.
***
On the car, I returned calls to those who had messaged after seeing me on television, and one of whom, was Philip.
We chatted quite a bit about the race, and the people who had been incredible nice to us, in which I felt was blessings.
I even brought up how Colin Edwards were just so personable and sweet.
It was then I hung up the call with him when I reached the airport, and had taken the lift to the express train that would bring us to KL town.
The train was about to leave the platform and we were glad to know that we wouldn’t have to buy the tickets on the spot and could do it at the station when we reached too.
We happily boarded the train, and thought of a long ride ahead, that would conclude our eventful trip thus far.
And you thought we would have finished there and then.
But nooooooooooo.
***
We scurried into the train just as the train was pulling out of the station, and I shifted in to the last cabin, hoping to find a seat that would sit the 2 of us.
I had thought we wouldn’t mind sitting on the side against the direction of the train, even if it meant we might get sick from the ride.
It was then, I saw 2 familiar faces smiling at us, and I gasped in disbelief and my eyes stretched at the sight.
‘Hey look…!‘ my voice was almost weak with uncertainty.
It was, Colin Edwards and the guy we met earlier in his cabin.
Seriously, how cool is the coincidence?
We went over and joined them at their seat, and I took the window seat right next to Colin Edwards, and Raf took the seat opposite Pete.
I am not sure if the novelty wore off, or was it more comfortable that way, or that we were really tired, the pressure and the awe that we should have, wasn’t felt.
Seriously, to be sitting there and talking to them on a personal basis, is pretty much the highlight of the trip, and sure beats talking to them as if they are famous faces, who are untouchables.
He is an animated men, and put people around him at ease.
Being an American, that also made communication better by leaps and bounds.
He told us that he saw us exiting from the lift and he had told Pete that, ‘Hey look, they are over there.’
He was totally amicable and he told us how his dad used to stay in Singapore for a few years and he had heard about the place from him before.
He then saw the wrist band Raf was wearing, and raised a brow and laughed.
‘Nicky Hayden eh?‘
‘I have seen him from this big -gesturing the height of a 10 year-old- till now, and he has never had a girl with him.
It then evolved into a talk of which of the guys in MotoGP are suspiciously gay.
Which resulted in almost NIL, cos everyone loves women.
Apparently Rossi and Biaggi are top suspects, but he refuked the talks of them being crooked.
He then spoke of his recent stopover at Thailand, and that they had attended a very interesting show in Thailand.
When they spoke of it, they were trying hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it as they recalled.
They talked about it as if they had watched a freak show or something, and we immediately knew what they were talking about.
The tiger shows in Thailand where girls would put on explicit shows, like opening the bottle cap with down there, or -cough- ‘go in water, come out coke‘ stunt.
I cringed as they talked about it in between giggles, and shook head as they recalled the details.
It was a moment of quietness when Raf was chatting to Pete, since they were sitting across the aisle, and I turned to look at him, to give him a I’m-so-freaking-tired look.
So how was things for ya today? I asked.
‘Ah… Shit,‘ he scrunched his face in slight, almost like that of Toni Elias earlier.
He held the gaze as we made small chats and I realised what nice eyes he had.
Man, those eyes.
It is always nice to see a different side of people, away from the glam and public scrutiny.
Even though it was a short half an hour on the train, where we chatted like pals, and could possibly be the last he would remember of us, but it was still insightful, to strip them off the ‘MotoGP rider’ status, as just another face we met.
Someone with a more 3-dimensional character.
He was on his way to KL town centre to meet up with some of his friends who came down to meet him in KL, and thus, he wouldn’t be at the team party.
And I didn’t get the chance to ask about his choice of transport. Why the train, I wonder?
We even graced him with the details of our previous trip, where we didn’t get to see him at all.
He then heard how we had waited for the riders in January and joked, ‘Ah! So you were the stalkers they were talking about.‘
We mentioned that we didn’t get to see him at all, but had seen him much this time round.
He joked that he must have hidden himself behind the doors, back then. He then held up his hands, pretended that he was hiding, and peeping behind closed doors, and gestured animatedly ‘Ah! There they are, the stalkers! Let’s hide.‘
The expression on his face as he acted the scenerio, was hilarious.
It was exceptionally funny when I had spoke of Raf’s disappointment over not seeing Nicky Hayden in January, and the mention of Nicky‘s name, would prompt Colin to turn his head to Raf, and throw her a mocked sympathetic look, coupled with a comical ‘Awww…‘
The most entertaining of all was the way he gestured and the ceaseless animated expressions as he spoke.
Okay, and the confident way he held his gaze as he conversed.
As usual, I whipped out my camera to try to capture the moving objects as the train changes its framing every second.
I wished I had the professional camera with me to capture the dwindling day, with the quiet moods settling in.
I didn’t want to request for a picture with them, because I deemed the moment a tad too personal to be intruded.
And I thought it might be miscontrued, since I had intended it to be a friendly exchange of person-to-person interaction, instead of us being in awe in the presence of a MotoGP rider.
I was playing around with my camera, and off-ed it, when suddenly, Colin stretched his hand over to hold the camera, and switched it on.
I had thought he had wanted to look at the pictures, but he slided the mode to picture-taking mode.
To my utter astonishment, he suddenly held it up halfway in the air, and turned its aim towards the 2 of us.
And he snapped!
*Cough*
The previous time, Alex Barros had offered to help Raf and I to take a picture together, and this time round, Colin Edwards had turned photographer.
I had thought the picture wasn’t clear, and switched it to flash-mode.
And he gladly held up the camera again right after I set the mode right.
Raf also wanted to have her picture taken, and I had wanted to take one with Pete too.
Despite not sitting near Pete, but the impression he had left earlier on at the track had shown that he was an incredibly interesting nice guy.
I wished I had caught up with him a little bit more.
He whipped out his camera and Colin helped us to take a picture too. But it didn’t turn out too well and he asked us to pose again.
Eventually, he relented and joke that it was the subject in question that ruined the picture.
I eventually took one last proper picture with Colin, which wrapped up the trip beautifully.
It was an enjoyable journey with the guys and we bade them goodbye when the train pulled in.
That, also spelt the end of the resplendent 3 days we had spent in the dazzling city of Kuala Lumpur.
We dragged our tired bodies to KL town centre, before we jumped on the coach at 8.30pm, and only reached back to Woodlands 5 hours later, with a short nap in between.
We reviewed the pictures, and were in glee over how unexpected it had turned out, cleansing us of the stress we had experienced before.
Took a cab back, and SBB called to check on my trip, and listened to my lamentings till it was late.
I guess the reason for the sudden depression was the fact that the bubble we created for the trip, is now burst since we had to hit back to reality.
Wasn’t feeling too well either.
It’s suddenly, good to be home.
And this trip had truly been a blessed one, considering the fact that we had only spent on the coach tickets, one way cab fare, and train tickets. Other than that, our accomodation was discounted, and every other meal and drinks, were blessed by the kind souls we had met at the event.
***
It was on the coach, when something er, sensational, came to my phone.
(Oh my God. Speak of devil. As I am watching the MotoGP now, the person I am mentioning, is actually fiddling with his iPod on the grid.)
I showed it to Raf and we both stared at each other for a brief moment before we burst into uncontrollable laughters.
‘I will be back in december and january! we could meet in that date! its possible?‘
When I replied positively, he replied, ‘I don’t know if is good say you this! But you was pretty yesterday and today.. blarblarblarblarblar.’
*Breathe in*
I exhale.
Uh huh.
*Cough*
***
I was just joking days back when I said I would need 20, 000 words for this post.
As I did a blardy word count, it is reaching towards 20, 800 words.
Which took up 80/81 pages of my Microsoft word.
*Gasp in utter flabbergastion*
Now, is there a world’s longest blog competition or some sort?
It’s just such a great timing that I am wrapping this up 3 minutes to 8, which is just nice for me to sit back and enjoy the Qatar MotoGP race.
Wheeeeeee.
I am thrilled.
I will definitely add in more visuals and details that I had left out in this post, since most probably there were just too much for me to recall.
And, now.
I did say it’s going to be a huge one, didn’t I?
Hurhurhur.
So, are you green with envy now?
If you are a MotoGP fan, that is.
If not, the yummy range of guys, are enough to drive those hormones and jealousy crazy, no?
8 o’clock! Ciao.
