A U R O R A // F1

Dec 2nd, 2019. Abu Dhabi, UAE

I actually had to sit down in the shower. I have been sick since the minute I woke up this morning.

After a while, the cool water helped me feeling almost alive again, although it barely helped with the rest of my sore body.

As I slowly dried up with a big, fluffy towel, I tried to piece together last night, and it was harder than expected.

I only now realized I wasn't in my own room, but in Charles' suite, so I had no other choice than to go for a shirt and sweatpants from him that were hanging in the bathroom. I did not want to squeeze myself into that dress again.

Through the open door I saw Matt, Pierre and Charles laying on his bed. I couldn't help but chuckle about the picture they made.

I've never seen neither Pierre nor Charles so wasted before in my life, and their appereances really made me forget my own hangover.

Carlos and Daniel lifted me up onto their shoulders.

The F1 hospitalities looked like a fun fair at night, people partying and finishing the end of the season with a bang on every corner.

Every motorhome we went by there was at least one person offering me a drink, and by the time we arrived at the Red Bull Energy Station, I was wasted.

Next thing I could remember was a bunch of people in Charles' suite drunkenly playing Mario Kart.

I cringed in retrospect, remembering sitting on Charles' lap while driving as Yoshi through all the retro circuits.

I turned my head to look at Flint. Either he didn't remember or he wasn't holding a grudge against what happened. Him and I were far from exclusive or anything and it was a friendly lap-sitting-incident, but imagining me in his situation made my nostrils flare up, so I wouldn't hold any anger last night against him. I scooted over to him, our arms touching, and we smiled at each other.