When die-hard Formula 1 fan Alice attends the Monaco Grand Prix thanks to a contest she won, she expects thrilling races and breathtaking views, but she never imagines catching the F1 prodigy, Max Verstappen. Amidst the glamour and high stakes of th...
Today was a slow day for us: mostly a recon of the track and the drivers' press conferences. But as of tomorrow, Friday, the first works on the cars were going to start with the two free practices and the place was going to be packed from that point on, with people buzzing everywhere and the cheers from the crowd. I was really looking forward to this.
However, for now, we had to do our own recon of the track. Franck asked me if I was comfortable on an electric scooter which, fortunately, I was. We grabbed two while the film crew took place on a golf cart. We went on a full tour of the track first so I, and the viewers, could see it as a whole. It was so different going from watching the race unfold to experience the actual track. I could now understand the always-mentioned incline after Turn 1 better, and I also gained a new appreciation for the lap times the car made. It only highlighted how fast they went, which was definitely more than my scooter's maximum speed of 25 kilometres per hour.
Then, the second tour we did was cut by sectors–and more importantly by turns so Franck could explain how the track was made and its feels to the viewers at home who would be watching this on Sunday during the pre-race show.
We were at the famous Fairmont Hairpin when we saw a Red Bull team doing its recon also. And, of course, it was Max's.
Before the tour, Franck warned me. It completed the warning I already got from the production crew back in Paris when we were preparing my trip. We would probably run into drivers but we were not to approach them unless they asked to. They were here to do their jobs and we were here to do ours, even though technically it was not my job—yet. This day was making me consider my choice of culture journalism and maybe transfer into the sport journalism curriculum in school.
But even if I wanted to meet some drivers, I would not disturb them while they are working. I knew how recons could be important, whether it was during the practice, qualifiers or the race. Small details could change over the year span between races here and those details could change the outcome of the race, or even their lives. This was particularly true in street circuits like Monaco where the concrete was still open to cars a few days ago.
But it did surprise me that Max was doing recon. He often bragged in interviews about not doing those, letting the track speak to him or whatever bullshit he said. Moreover, he actually lived in Monaco so he probably knew the track by heart and liked to follow the track limits on his off time. Yet, he was doing it, showing that he was serious about his prep work for the race. Even his face was serious as he listened to his engineer, probably talking about the trajectory he had to use to get the most of the hairpin.
When they passed in front of us, Max noticed that I was here too and his face suddenly went from serious to smiley. After checking that the cameras weren't on him, he waved and mimicked a phone call, mouthing to call him later. I rolled my eyes whilst trying to silence what felt like a giggle. Fortunately, it came out as a chuckle and my credibility was untarnished.
Even though I was fighting this attraction, I was also kind of enjoying it. I liked knowing that a successful man was interested in me. I liked the attention I was receiving from him. It was not as if he were lacking choices here. There were a thousand or so more beautiful women in Monaco right now. Yet, he seemed to fancy little ole me. And I wouldn't have taken him for a guy that liked half Asian girls. Although interracial relationships were more and more common these days, he still had a type. His last girlfriends were all white and blonde girls. I did not fit in his usual criteria.
But that fact also persuaded me that he probably didn't want anything serious with me. He probably wanted to bone and move on. If he were a random guy, I would have been in his hotel room already. He was not, and that was the problem.
I would have to see him every Sunday on my TV. I would not be able to move on like he would, because I would always be reminded of him. And I didn't know if I was ready for that. It was not about feelings or anything like that. But I felt like it defeated the purpose of a one-night stand to see him constantly, especially since I would be seeing him through a scream. My brain would obviously be working overtime with its 'what-ifs' scenarios.
Moreover, I was not one of those fan girls who were ready to sleep with the person they admired just to tell, either only to themselves or sometimes to the whole world, that they had slept with their idol. And I did not want him to see me as such and be simply another notch in his bedpost.
So yes, it might not be such a great idea after all...
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