A Dream Vacation
By Patti Murawski
The start of our vacation was no indication of what was to
come. Just days before we left for L.A.
United Airlines decided to strike and we were left to fend for ourselves for a
rebooking. It did no good; even though
we were rebooked with TWA, flights were running late and we wouldn’t get our
New York connection. As it turned out,
we were Chinese-checkered across the U.S. via Atlanta Georgia and Dallas, Texas,
and had to call our friends on the coast to give them the new flight numbers. As I said to Jennie, “You wanted
adventure? You’re getting it for free.”
Saturday of the race weekend was a beautiful sunny spring
day but not without its faults. Karen
and I had to park downtown as we’d had our parking permits stolen on the first
day of qualifying and it seemed forever before we found a suitable space.
Our hopes were not too high where George was concerned. We had come to see our favorite drivers
compete here at Long Beach, but having heard George had skipped town in March we
weren’t counting on him to makshow at all.
I was hoping he’d just go off to Maui for his annual seaside holiday and
come back for the race, but no one had a clue even if he was back in L.A. He hadn’t shown up for the first day of
qualifying; not to say we didn’t keep an eye out – it was an F1 race. The weather was nice and there was still some
time. We could not let down our guard
for a minute. Anything could happen! We had walked down to the Queen’s Hairpin and
the Esses for morning practice and were fascinated by the maneuvering talents
of the drivers; they always make handing those cars look so effortless. We were totally absorbed and loved every minute!
We decided to start back for pit road before practice ended;
as we walked, practice was halted to remove a vehicle on the circuit. Someone either had a breakdown or an accident
and the track had to be cleared before practice could carry on. As it turned out, poor Jean-Pierre Jabouille
had a frightening high-speed crash.
Thank God he wasn’t seriously injured.
As we arrived on pit road, practice resumed. We decided to check out approximately where
our race day seats were, and then sat in the grandstand to sun ourselves and
watch the rest of practice. As the teams
started to come in one by one, Karen and I decided to take a walk or take
pictures, leaving Jennie, Kris, Kim and Kathy up in the stands.
I paced the Wolf-mcLaren-Ligier area along the fence and
contemplated a walk to Ferrari, while Karen took in the sights at the Wolf
pit. I had stopped a few minutes at
McLaren when Jennie came up from behind me and grabbed my arm. I froze.
“He’s here; isn’t that him over at the timing table??” I looked over; George was leaning on the
timing table, talking to the officials.
I didn’t even have to see his face.
Yes, that’s him!” We had just
about convinced ourselves that he wasn’t going to show up, hoping against hope
that he would, and now there he was! I
walked over to the grandstand where Karen was standing and quietly tipped her
off. We stood on the steps and took some
photos. Jenn, Kris, Kim and Kathy
joining us. After a while people began
to notice we didn’t have our lenses aimed at the cars, and George began to
realize it too! He pointed to us, all
lined up on the grandstand steps with our cameras focused on him.
His hair had grown so much since the press conference in
March, and this longer style looked great!
He was so tan. He must’ve had a
vacation. I have never seen him look so
brown in my life! He was wearing a light brown corduroy jacket, a blue plaid
shirt, beige trousers and running shoes – quite the opposite of last year’s
attire of blue jeans and racing jacket, and fortunately for us, a bit more
distinctive; it make it easier to keep track of him in a crowd.
Word must’ve gotten around the pits of George’s arrival, as
many of his driver and mechanic friends came to great him. Emerson Fittipaldi, the Brazilian driver who
had invited George to South America in February, came over to shake hands and
embrace George, each looking the other over with approval. The handshaking, back-clapping, and embracing
continued as various friends approached him.
Jody Scheckter made a beeline from the Ferrari pit to the Wolf-McLaren
area. It was a bit funny how he avoided
everyone until he greeted George. When
James Hunt came over to talk, George pulled a little square piece of paper from
the inside of his jacket and held it out for James to see. He smiled as he handed it to James, James
holding it out in front of him in a gesture of admiration and appreciation, also
with a huge smile on his face. Judging from
the reactions and the expressions from their conversation we figured it must’ve
been a photo of Dhani, but we never found out.
Jacques Laffite came over eventually too, creating a little
clatch of drivers and mechanics around George, conversing with him and with
each other. It was quite a set up for
the scads of photographers, as well as for females with an appreciate eye. Four of the world’s most handsome, desirable
men standing together on one little piece of God’s earth. It was just too much!
At various points we could hear George’s voice, but most of
the time we couldn’t make out part or all of what he was saying. It was so nice to watch him being himself,
conversing with his friends and having a marvelous time. He didn’t seem to mind the photographers at
all and even signed for those who came up to ask.
George and Jody started walking up the road, George stopping
along the way to greet more friends. He came
all the way over to the barrier when he was in the Williams pit (he had the
sunglasses off then), facing the fence and not more than 5 feet away from
us. He was all smiles!
He went up the road alone towards the Brabham pit, ad
stopped for a moment, looking a trifle lost.
He started to cough, a wretched smoker’s cough, and even though we were
standing so far away from him (a good 20 feet) his awful cough made our throats
hurt just listening to it! He came over to
Brabham and one of their entourage came over to explain the aerodynamics of the
new design. Niki Lauda came to greet
George, patted him on the back and stepped away to look him over as if to say “you’re
looking well.” The conversation was
short; it seemed the drivers were anxious to have a rest before the final and
perhaps the most never-shattering qualifying heat, and the mechanics needed to
get back to work.
In between the practice and qualifying the Toyota Celebrity race was to be
held. George went over to the wall adjacent to the
track to speak to someone, oly to be cornered by the CBS camera crew. We were watching him being interviewed and
wondered if they were live or on tape, and what was being said.
After he finished his bit with CBS, George walked over to
the barrier, jumped it, and started walking along the fence, just a bitty bit
of steel mesh between him and Jennie and I.
He stopped short, finding himself in a blind alley, which sent us
scurrying up the hill again, but he doubled back and came through the
gate. Kris and I hurried down the hill
to meet him, as we had a present for Dhani which we’d been wanting to give him
for a long time. That morning I had
tucked it inside my purse on the off-chance of having the opportunity to
deliver it to Dhani’s dad. It was a
teeny t-shirt with had a picture of an F1 car on it and read, “Watkins Glen
Grand Prix Pit Crew.” Kris grabbed the
shirt from me, and a Blue Brothers button she had for George, as I steered her
in front of me over to him. He was walking so fast. “This is for the baby, “she said, handing him
the shirt, “and this is for you.” He seemed
bit surprised the larger of the two was for the baby and said, “Oh! Oh, thank you!” He scrunched the shirt up in his hand so
tightly you couldn’t even tell he was holding anything!
A reporter stopped him in a parking lot, and we had a chance
to take a few photos, say hello, etc.
Someone asked him about his foot and he said it was just fine, thanks,
that he had had a vacation and got some rest.
We later found out he had indeed been on holiday in Maui. When he finished with the reporter he began
to walk away and he said, “bye-bye” as if to say “that’s all for now” not
wanting to impose on him anymore than we already had, we said goodbye and
thanks, and began to walk in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for George, a group of girls
followed him.
Generally the afternoon was much the same, Kris spotting him
after qualifying, and we watched as he made his way up the road, stopping along
the way to converse with Jody Scheckter at the Ferrari pit. When he reached the gate he was walking with
another person, and I could hear them exchanging bits of information about
qualifying times, George consulting a little notebook that the guy had given
him to look over. After the day’s
qualifying, there’s always a rush of people towards the garage as the crews tow
the cars in. More people noticed George,
but this time with such a large crowd of people, he didn’t stop until he
reached the motor home of some friends, where he was stopped by a
reporter. On his way over, though, a
young girl had screamed as he went by her.
He turned around quickly to see what had happened, to see if someone was
hurt in the crowd or whatever, but when he realized it was him she was fussing
over he just sort of grimaced and quickly walked away.
We stayed a respectable distance across the street to wait
to see him leave. He sat in the window
of the RV with his back to us most of the time but when he turned to watch a
particular car being towed in, or when he faced us, we could hear his voice and
see him smile as he conversed. One girl
waited outside the door on the RV, obviously wanting his autograph, but she
didn’t approach him when he came out. He
saw her there, stopped, looked over his shoulder giving her the most gorgeous
smile, took a few steps while looking back at her, as if to say “come on, don’t
be afraid,” and waited. Actually, he met
her halfway and signed for her. He headed
for the garage and we waited around for a while, but much to our dismay, since
the garage was set up differently this time, he probably left through a back
door.
Sunday was different.
Kris and Karen hadn’t seen him until after the race last year and we
generally agreed that we probably wouldn’t see him until after the race if we
saw him at all. All that aside, the race
was exciting as usual, especially the battle for the 2nd, 3rd
and 4th places. Gilles Villeneuve ran away with the lead and soon
after, Jody Scheckter (George’s pick to win) swung into a solid 2nd
place to make it a Ferrari one-two.
Since Jody placed rather well I just couldn’t miss the Victory Circle
ceremonies, and told Jenn I’d meet her at Wolf if we got separated. As the checkered flag came down over Gilles
and Jody I was off. I didn’t have to go
far. Victory Circle was right next to
where we were sitting.
After the ceremonies I sat down to change the film in my
camera. I went to the prescribed meeting
place and waited but none of my friends could be found. I wondered if I should stay put but I figured
everyone would be at the garage. I
started out for the garage, taking my time, still debating about where I would
find the others.
As I walked up the drive past the VIP entrance, I spotted George
and a friend walking out. “My God,’ I
thought, “I couldn’t have timed it better.
No one’s gonna believe this!” I
waited for him to walk down the hill and out the gate, and as he and his friend
came by me I said hello to them. Sine
George was busy taking with his friend I don’t know if he really heard me. He looked marvelous. He wore a white shirt and beige trousers and
a tweed coat (75 degrees and he’s wearing wool!)
I turned and watched him walk down the hill to an RV; he
went in. I circled around and leaned
against a wall down the street to watch for him to come out. One of our members, Lynn Hocker, and a friend
of hers were waiting further up the road.
Since I had met her briefly a few days before and knew she knew my
friends, I went to ask if she had seen them anywhere. She said she had seen them in the garage a
while ago. Well, I was right
anyway! (Jennie told me later that they
had seen George in the garage chatting with friends. He had a bunch of his new LP under his arm
and was handing them out to all his buddies).
When George left the RV I just stood and watched; a guy
stopped him to sign something. I was
standing there thinking it was just so stupid of me to be standing there and
not to be over speaking to him. I came
up behind them and just peered around the guy’s shoulder. Curiously, no one was saying a word. “Hello, George! Did you enjoy the race?” He looked up at me – his face not more than a
foot from mine. “Yeah!” he said
breathlessly, like a little kid full of excitement. “Did your favorites win then?” “Well, “ he said looking up again as he was
handing the guy his book, “sort of.” “Sort
of?” I asked, but I already knew that he was better acquainted with Jody, the 2nd
place winner, than with Gilles, who took first.
He took a few steps; someone asked about his foot and he said it was
okay now. He said he had to go and
quickly walked over to his friend, who had started to walk ahead. He was walking along swinging a set of keys
and I thought perhaps he drove himself this time.
He went up to the street and around the corner; his
magnetism was too much! I was overcome,
drawn up the hill, saying to Lynn, “this is awful, I don’t want to follow him,”
the same dilemma Kris, Karen and Cindy had last year. It’s so strange, the effect he has on
you! I went to the top f the hill and
watched; Lynn and her friend walked off after him. I walked along the grandstand watching to see
where he had gone. They stopped, and I
thought George was going to turn around, but he looked around then pointed to
one of the bridges. I was about a block
behind. He was leaving the circuit, so I
decided it wouldn’t hurt to watch him leave, and scurried to the bridge. I caught up with Lyn and passed, her, telling
her he probably had a car waiting in the street below. George stopped in the street. There were several limousines parked there
but he looked around, puzzled. He then
got the revelation that he and his friend had crossed the wrong bridge and were
at the wrong location so they set out to walk across town several blocks. He turned around to see if anyone was
following him as he took a shortcut down an alley. Lynn was at a loss as to what to do. I waited until they got to the end of the
alley to see which way he turned, and then zoomed up and across the block. Just as I got to the crosswalk they had crossed
the street. I was still a black behind,
keeping my distance, not wanting to bother him.
I lost him in the crowd ahead, a line waiting at the bus
stop no less, but I noticed that particular corner was the area where he had
met the car last year. Lynn caught up
and asked if I had seen where he went. I
told her he was probably around the corner to our left. She quickly went walking to the corner, but
just as quickly came reeling back. He
was just around the corner. I leaned against the building to catch my breath,
and ktty-corner through the plate glass store window. I could see him standing next to a tree
having a cigarette. The car was not
waiting for them. A woman was watching
us trying to catch our breath and watching how Lynn wouldn’t go around the corner. She kept asking if we were in trouble and why
wouldn’t Lyn go around the corner (How to you explain that?)
Several minutes later, a green limousine pulled up at the
bus stop directly in front of us. George
went straight for the car; he clambered in and his friend followed; before we
knew it, off they went.
For Jenn and I the races are always exciting; race weekend
went by in a flash, leaving us with a dreadfully long wait until the trek to
the Glen in the fall. But I couldn’t
have asked for a better vacation; a super time with some great people, the
cars, the drivers, all this and George Harrison too! I was right, it was some adventure!
.jpg)
