You Can't Avoid Boyd - Talladega Nights Edition

Marcus Boyd’s Excellent Adventure: Talladega Nights Edition

For the next few “You Can’t Avoid Boyd” (or what the lazy people call YCAB), I will be writing about my travel adventures, some local, some not. The first installment brings us to one of the biggest NASCAR venues in the United States, Talladega, Alabama.

I know you are all wondering why I would attend a NASCAR race. My love of race car driving is strictly defined by “Days of Thunder”, “The Fast & The Furious: April Drift”, and “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” and no actual racing. I had actually attended the Pocono 500 in 2005 as some of my rugby teammates hit it up. Once it started, I bolted after 20 minutes. Grand opening, grand closing. However, one of vendor reps offered a co-worker and me an all-expense paid trip to the race. I figured it was worth another shot. Golf on Saturday, race on Sunday, paid day off on Monday and all the alcohol I can drink throughout. Could life get any better? I submit that it cannot!

Actually, life did get better. Saturday’s golf round was replaced by driving to Birmingham and watching college football/drinking all day. Instead of shooting a 142, I got to abuse my golden ticket. First off, Birmingham might be the most boring college town I have ever been in (you are off the hook, East Stroudsburg.) While attending a conference down there years ago, no one seemed to go out. I figured it was just bad during the weekdays, or just randomly dead that week. On Saturday, it was a ghost town. It did get a little more crowded when LSU kicked off, but it was pretty bad showing. I figured people were attending the UAB football game until a friend pointed out they played Thursday night. Second of all, waitresses are extremely nice. Not once did I have to fill up my pint glass, as the three pitchers of PBR I drank singlehandedly were flowing like wine. There weren’t many lookers in the group, but they sure were nice. Later that night, my group of married colleagues decided it was time to head to the “library”. It was a pretty awesome library, except when it came down to the night games. Alabama was kicking off the same time as Notre Dame’s first night game in 21 years. I have been looking forward to the Irish game all season. I figured one television would show it. Nope. When I asked one of the librarians if they could change one of the many TVs, she said “Honey, you’re in Alabama. If I change the channel, a riot will break out.” Luckily, I didn’t miss much as the Irish shit the bed. At the end of the night, I learned two things: I do not know how to make a Royal Flush shot (it is not just Crown Royal and cranberry juice) and Taco Bell will not allow you to walk through the drive-thru.

After sleeping two hours, it was time for Talladega. By 7 am, our group had set up the grill, two tents, tables, chairs, and chilled the beer, all 75 cases. They even brought a port-a-potty. Since most of my colleagues are old as fuck, I was drinking alone until 9 am. By the time the grill was fired up, they adhered to the strict South law that vegetables are for pussies. They had four different types of pork (Thank god Josh and Evan didn’t go on this trip, they would have starved to death.) To my delight, NASCAR races are BYOB. I was at the perfect moment of tailgate drunk as I walked into the famous speedway. I was quite impressed as the track can hold 175,000 people and it appeared to be at full capacity. As I took my seat by the finish line, I was stoked. Then it happened. The race started and it was as boring as shit as I remembered it. 188 laps of hoping to see some awesome non-fatal crashes. Luckily, I did get to see a pretty sweet one. But it bored me to death. I even fell asleep twice (I had ear plugs in.) Throw in the fact I fell asleep at the library the night prior and I had earned a dubious reputation during the trip.

After back to back 12 hour drinking sessions, the rest of the trip involved an early Sunday night pass out by the entire group, trying not to vomit during the vendor’s plant tour on Monday morning (which would have been the second time after the Royal Flush shot), and looking miserable as I waited for my flight in the enormous continent known as Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport. All and all, good times. I regret nothing, except the entire race.

        -Written by Marcus Boyd

Next week: Halloween in the DC area.