Applying for jobs taught me the need to network and keep gaining experience. I love working with athletes but also enjoy the fast paced action that makes up running events. I couldn't land an interview for an operations or event management position so I did what I could to find a chance to do get more experience. I preferred to do this in a sport that I enjoy but have no experience in, motorsports. It's big down here in North Carolina. I talked to a friend who know someone and I got in contact with them about helping out.
My phone conversations with the person I was going to help were a little suspect. Seemed to have no energy or enthusiasm in his voice, and his accent was thick and hard to understand over the phone. It was like trying to figure out what the words in Psy Psy Gangam Style meant. I just said, sure sounds good, I will get back to you.
A little concerned by his lack of enthusiasm or plan for my help I had someone vouch for him first. They vouched so I decided, well what the heck, let's give this a try.
The ride to this place was interesting. I got my directions on my IPhone. They started out great. It followed signs to the race track so I decided I could trust it. I needed to trust it since I was in "Real North Carolina" now. The places outside of the big cities. The places where I have been told it means something slightly different when you say the word "Yankee." Your not a fan of the baseball team if you catch my drift. I start wondering on less traveled roads. I then get to a residential neighborhood (of trailers) and get to a dead end road without driving lines. This concerns me.
But my IPhone tells me to continue onto a gravel road, that looks like a driveway.
FUCK this is a driveway. FUCK I am a Yankee. FUCK, I see the speedway in the distance, and no I can't go through the farm field to get there Google Maps.
Let's hit reverse.
FUCK it's not in gear. FUCK these people are going to come out of their trailer, ask me why I am in their driveway, and take my money and shoot me once they find out I am a Catholic Connecticut Yankee.
Please dear god, get in gear. Thank you. I get the heck out of there quickly. I use the map on google, without directions, to find the speedway, somehow.
I showed up to the track thirty minutes early and saw some cars practicing. It was cool, especially watching a few cars slide a little through the turns. I called the person I was supposed to meet and well, they said they were running an hour or so behind and that I should just go up to the women at the table by the white fence. I ran up there and said that I was here to help. "Well we don't have anything to really do." So I just waited for the person I spoke to, to arrive and meet him and get going.
Six O'Clock and still no one. 6:30...still doing nothing. During this time I found out that there was no race tonight, just the
rodeo. I thought both events would be happening at once. Instead it
would just be the rodeo. I started to see some of the Bull Riders and Cowgirls show up. The entertainers shall we say. I must admit, the Cowgirls, or atleast the girls they were arriving with were much, much, much better looking than I had expected. The Bull Riders were much, much, much more country than I had expected. Many were smoking cigarettes. I am sure others were dipping tobacco. I've already learned that it might not be gum these people are chewing down here. The Bull Riders came together, like poor college students crammed into cars, only probably minus the college part.
7:00 guy shows up that looks like could be the person I spoke too over the phone. He then proceeds to be stressed out and cursing at a few workers. Not sure who was right and who was wrong, but it wasn't a wonderful impression.
Looks like I picked a great day to volunteer.
The person who cursed out workers. Probably, said the F-word five times, was indeed the person I spoke over the phone with. I finally meet him and he just shakes my hand. We road in a gator to the Rodeo. I figured maybe I'd start to do something then. But I didn't. I thought maybe I would follow him around and shadow him atleast, but no offer to do that was extended.
Then I saw him down a beer. The event hadn't even started yet. I was quite confused. I've known about workers downing a beer or two at sporting events AFTER the event, but never before, and never when they were in charge of the facility. Only after the beer did I get to speak with the guy.
I learned that they tore up middle of the go-cart track to make room for the rodeo. The speedway paid the rodeo to put on the performance. The posts and set-up was done by the rodeo people. There were also EMT on standby. I might have actually had an ambulance, but that's just me.
Speaking to this person at the event and shadowing him was much more difficult and boring then I had imagined. I almost never spoke to the guy. I could have had better conversation with a supermodel if I started with the corniest line ever "how much does a Polar Bear weigh?"
I spent the entire event observing things. Rodeo is part bull riding, barrel racing and other different things as well. It's also part marketing. The Rodeo clown and MC work together with music to dance and liven things up. Kids got a chance to ride sheep. The event was well run.
I wasn't quite sure what to expect in terms of the people I would run into. I'd heard stories about some people from this county from my Aunt, who was a doctor there. I knew they might be a little different. I knew they certainly weren't going to any Al Sharpton for President rallies.
There were a lot of characters out of King of the Hill or other movies featuring country living. Maybe a Marlboro man or too as well. Fans could choose to bring their Pick-Up of choice and watch from ring side on their truck beds. You got the sense at this event that it was a big deal if you owned a pick-up truck that could tow a mountain and also drive over them as well. Having one rear tire was never enough. These people would have laughed had you owned a Ferrari or luxury car. Why own one of those when you could own a big old pick-up.
I felt really out of place, especially in my Nike. I saw one other person with a piece of Nike Apparel on. I honestly saw more people with a confederate flag on their clothes than a swoosh. I looked out of place and it was at this point that I could say that there is a difference between a southern country boy and a New England person who likes the country. I'm a New Englander who likes the country (and auto racing). I am not a Southern Country Boy who wears a Remington sweat shirt and enjoys riding around in golf carts drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. There were certainly plenty of people doing that. Also should note that many people had untrimmed beards and had that rugged country look.
All in all this was quite an experience, and probably not worth repeating. I would give the guy I was supposed to help another chance because I do have interest in helping out at a race...and I realize the importance of making contacts, gaining experience and doing new things, but all in all I don't need to repeat a day like yesterday for a bit.
I still enjoy auto-racing and would still like to help and see how everything comes together event wise, but I am open to trying at a place like say, Lime Rock, where people might be more New England Country than Southern Boy Country. Last night was a little culture shock.
