Malaysian Grand Prix ’17

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Truthfully, I wasn’t really a fan of F1. Faris had brought me to the race back in 2012 and we were seated at the starting grid and I thought that was rather tedious. I remember going home half-deaf due to the deafening sound of the engines which, apparently are orgasmic to most. And if you had asked me who had won the race that day, I would say, I did….Last Sunday, unfortunately, marked the end of Malaysian Grand Prix and when he had impetuously asked me if I wanted to go for the final race, I thought, why not? After all, it was free (hehe merci pour le régal, mon amour). I went with scarcely any expectation except for the hot dogs and though the damn dogs disappointed me I am very much glad that I went. Surprisingly, I enjoyed every bit of my time there.

It took us about an excruciating two-hour journey to get to Sepang Circuit when it should have been less than 25 minutes from home. As the car inched a little for every few minutes, I could see everyone was headed to the same direction. I saw what they were wearing and I thought, wow I am overdressed. I was clad in Soleil’s latest piece – a slit pants and an off-shoulder top. When we arrived at the parking bay, we had to pay MYR 30 for a shitty muddy parking. I reckon, high priced tickets are not enough to cover up their cost.. So we climbed up the stairs and through the gate and all I could think about was my hot dog. So we paid for MYR 15 for each and sure, while the price was unsurprising to me but the least they could do was to make it a little more edible perhaps? This is what happens when you have unethical people doing business. When you mark up your product, you should ensure that your quality is good. Of course, this is not limited to the hot dog seller. I don’t know, just a mere suggestion. When we walked up the stairs to find our seats, it was crowded to the utmost. Every seat of the grandstand was occupied. And true enough I was overdressed. Everyone else was wearing shirts and jeans or shorts and tanks. When this man, clad in a bright orange suit walked in, I wanted to hug him and befriend him so we could be two overdressed buddies. Fortunately for both of us, we had two seats available at the second row from the front and the view was spectacular.

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“Who is he?”

“Verstappen.”

“What pen?

“V-ers-tap-pen!”

“Okay, so who is he?”

“Ricciardo”

“Who is he?”
“Vettel”

“And who is he?”
“Bottas”

“hahahahaha”

“Which one is Räikkönen again”

“Number 7.”

“Who am i supporting again?”

“I don’t know.”

“He is cute.”

“Okay.”

“Who is in the purple car”

“There’s no purple car.”

“Oh.”

I am very much appreciative of his effort to spell out their names every time they passed by. He briefed me about the history, the drivers and all that jazz that seemed fascinating to me at that very moment. His eyes brighten up when he speaks and I hope it would be the same when he speaks of me………….I can’t tell if he was annoyed that I was asking too many questions. If he could push me into the track, he probably would. It took me a few laps to finally grasp the race and know their names.

“Hey, Vespen is leading!”

“Vers-tap-pen”

“Omg Hamilton is far behind”

“Vettel!!!”

*He looked at me, somewhat impressed.”

*Less than five laps to go*

“Babe, what’s his name again?”
“V-ers-tap-pen!”

I enjoyed myself pretty much. A little too much I reckon. His goal, he said, was to watch the race from all around the world and I reckon, that is a realistic dream. Perhaps, someday we shall babe….We can start with Monaco. #justsaying

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Photos by:

My one and only instagram husband, @Farrace.Iqkwan

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