Chapter 5

Who is currently using that number?

 

We've booked the Café de Paris for viewing free practice and with the new rules being what they now are, we're all pretty chuffed to have such a super vantage point to witness this.  COOL.  We've looked at the balcony previously, but to give you some understanding, here's both terraces.

 

To the right where the Monaco flags are alongside the lamps.

 

The run down to Mirabeau - the far away fencing up top is where we'll be.

 

We arrive just in time to hear the first session - 0830.  Jaguar, Jordan, Minardi & Renault are on track.  First thing we notice is a pink pussy - we've climbed stairs and then been asked to come back down to get an elevator to the RIGHT place.  Of course, the Rotors are still in their beds - late as per the norm.  We watch the first session from up high and by now are hungry.  You've no idea how twitchy F1 cars are - I know from events we've all been to (Silverstone, Malaysia, Spain, Canada, Indianapolis and some more besides) that none of us were prepared for the cars slipping and sliding all over the shop.  And to be able to see the drivers literally working hard behind the wheel was remarkable - totally and utterly.  First session done, and tummy's now growling for some food we head downstairs for some breakfast.  Being that this is the Café de Paris - it's fabulous - but not cheap.  The only thing going cheap was a theif!

 

Not too shabby a view eh?

 

We also have a diamond screen reserved just for us.

 

Where was I?  Oh yes, breakfast at the Cafe was quite the experience.  Sat as we were now on the lower floor, we're eating croissants, bread rolls and drinking some splendid coffee with F1 cars screaming by less than 15 feet (4 metres Dave) away.  Quite literally sublime.  When I say we were eating this culinary feast, Bob had decided to have some ice cream for breakfast.  HA!

 

That's a mini pot of jam in there as scale for the water - 0.25 of a litre.  A snip at 4.60 Euros we felt - the whole thing set us back about 25 Euros - EACH.  HA!

 

Then Toof gets a bird....

 

The price paled into insignificance when THE cars screamed past.  Simply incredible.  And it was delicious!  I doubt I've had a more delicious breakfast!  Then it was time for more of the sessions and so we went back up.

 

This time we go to the track as it runs from the exit of Casino down to Mirabeau and we all try for the same shot - but you have to be quick - REAL quick.

 

Amazing - and ULTRA noisy.

 

I'll let the others send their shots in as I've much to write.  Let me just say this - and I know I'll have this endorsed by the others, I have a far higher appreciation of F1 cars now I've seen them at work in Monte Carlo - I mean, UP CLOSE and personal.

 

Here's Charlie's shots trying to catch those fast cars.....HA! HAHA! HAHAHA!

 

Pat at Casino.

 

Pictures do not give this vantage point the justice it deserves - but then most of you will know that having been to GP's yourself.  At Monaco however, one is truly rewarded for a good spot - and this was a top bollox location.  We watch it all unfold literally before our very eyes and then lunch time is upon us.  Not sure what to expect when lunch is called, we are served the most magnificent feast - including loads of free wine, water and (eventual) soft drink for the girlie.

 

This was Bob's.

 

Eating, drinking and being MERRY!

 

Bob needed some ice cream as he'd not had any for nearly 15 minutes.

 

Oh yeah - how rude of me!

 

Seated - LOSER / standing - winner.

 

Here's maybe what will let you understand THIS vantage point.  On Sunday it was reserved for - MARLBORO personell.  Cool or wot?

Lunch was awesome and the wine delicious - and copious!  Now it is time for first qualifying and so we pop over to the rooftop - class.  We watch intently and decide it a fabulous day for the Commonwealth!  Now it's over and the Formula Renault V6's are on.  But enough of that shite, we needed more wine.  I am assured by someone in the team that we've got no chance.  Ahem, have they learned nothing from the trip so far?  Sure enough, I blag us a table and copious amounts of MORE wine.  A nice Irish waiter fellow (who's name escapes me now) and we have a decent craic with him.  The wine flows and the time flies - now it's time to call my mate Stephen who has kindly agreed to lend us his flat to change into our glad rags for DC's hotel - the next stop on the adventure.............

 

Chapter 5 Part 2 to follow.......

 

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Chapter 5

Who is currently using that number? (Part 2)

 

We stagger out of the Café and meet with Stephen up the hill.  It's time to get to the flat and get our glad rags on for The Columbus hotel.  This is a relatively painless transaction and we are now dressed to kill.  Especially those in skirts!

 

We go to head back to hand the keys back and meet again with Stephen who advises us where to go.  It's still real early (1800ish) and the table isn't booked until 2000.  We make to go back to the Café de Paris which is later decreed by some in the group to be a bad move.  Nevertheless we are there and I need the number for DC's hotel to order a shuttle.  I've read on the website that there is such a thing, however, I kinda dropped the ball by not ordering one beforehand. (Jeesh, gimme a break, I'd done everything else!)  I call them to be told there's no way he can send the shuttle - then he asks, "Are you with the McLaren party?"  "If I am with the McLaren party, will you send a shuttle to collect us?"  "No" is the reply.  So, we have a beer and head off for the bus.  The moral of the story follows, had I booked a shuttle we may never have found out about the McLaren mechanics party - it was meant to be.

 

I'm not all together happy to be getting on a bus in me best bib and tucker, however, the team agrees this to be the course of action.  GnJ spots 2 taxis and makes for them - and so we're off.  Just as we leave I look back at my final real life view of Casino Square to see a Mercedes GT1 parked right outside the Hermitage hotel.  WOW!  Coooooool.

 

At DC's hotel now and we are relieved of our bags at reception.  Up the stairs and into the bar we go - and whilst I know I am biased, this is one COOOOL place.  REALLY alive.  The bar is mobbed and we are shown to a table in the busy lobby.  We all order a drink and I ask for Caroline who is the person I've been emailing back and forth for the table.  She's real nice - but clearly under pressure as this is the mentalest weekend on the calendar.  Now shown to our seats, we have scrubbed up rather well I think.

 

The food was fab.

 

Of course, I had to be wearing me officially Scottish dress - you know the drill by now.  GnJ is allowed to wear his old regiment tartan, so he too was sporting a skirt - albeit with a far smaller sporran.

 

Shoulda been a Scotch to toast!

 

Because of the line of work I'm in, I stay away quite a bit.  This hotel was incredible by anyone's standards and the attention to detail second to none.  I head out for a pee and to call Mrs Monaco7.  As I'm stood there, Mark Blundell wanders past.  Then I chat with Caroline for a wee while then back to the table.  There's a bloke from Newcastle as the assistant manager and we chat for a time.  It appears DC, Kimi, Wesley Snipes and the McLaren mechanics have all been in the building this fine eve.  Indeed, as we were checking our bags at reception, Kimi went wandering past us - only detected by Charlie and Elena.  As we tucked into our main courses, Jim Rosenthal and Tony Jardine go walking by us to be shown to their table.  Orange beaky twat.

 

We finish our meal and all I can think about is how to get into the McLaren party.  We need some extra seats and I politely ask this bloke next to us if I can nick one of his.  "Aye, fire in buddy" comes the Scottish reply from the young dude.  GnJ now at the table is insistent this young bloke is a racing driver because he is slight of build. 

"He's Scottish anyhoos". 

"How the fuck do you know"

"I just know"

"No way"

"Wanna bet?"

"How much"

"$100 US says he's Scottish"

 

Unfortunately for me, Elaine jumps in at this stage and stops GnJ from losing - again.  I am willing him to bet me by extending my hand and all sorts, alas it was not to be. 

 

"So, how DO you know he's Scottish?"

"Coz while you went for a piss I conversed with him".

 

HA!

 

GnJ now convinced this bloke's a racing driver, so I pop on over and say hello.  He's a bar tender in a bingo hall in Aberdeen - who occasionally calls the bingo.  After I laugh at him for being gay, I go back to the table and make up a story that he was in fact the Formula Renault driver from earlier in the day.  HA!  GnJ's a sucker.

 

We're now sat in the bar getting a drink on the hoose.  Because they needed the table we were at, we were politely asked to vacate and have a drink at the bar.  Quick as a flash Bob asks if it's to be on the house - and it is!  COOL.  All I can think of is how to get to this party, and as I'm racking my brain, my train of thought is rudely interrupted by the Canucks asking when I am to make my move.  For some reason Elaine suggested GnJ would be a great help - I think not and head off towards the elevators to see where the action is at and to suss out how many guards I need to slip past.  Quick reccie over, I return to the table to be met with that weird whining noise that was prevalent in Bob's car.  I try to explain that I am something of an expert in these matters, but it fell on deaf ears.  I finish my drink and go for act 2.  I casually walk straight to the elevator and press the button to call it.  As I'm waiting, I hear the bloke next to me speak to his burd.

 

"That sounds like a British accent"

"Yeah, I'm from your part of the world" (The skirt)

"Cool, you over for the race then?"

"Yeah, I'm with McLaren"
"Excellent, what do you do?"

<life arrives and I get in with this couple>

"Oh, I'm David Coulthard's trainer"

"Ah - you're the new bloke then?"

"Aye"

"I believe there's a party happening tonight?"

"Yeah, that's where we're going"

"Not to be a knob or that, but any danger we might be able to come down - I'll buy ye a pint"

"Aye, they're all pished now anyway, so come on doon"

"There's a fair few of us like" <note - no number mentioned>

"Nae worries, just come doon"

"I missed yer name mate, what is it in case I get any shit?"

"Just ask for Jerry"

"Cool!"

 

Mentally now depressing the relevant floor to get back to the other goofs, I get off and quick march through to the corner of the bar where we're sat.  "Move - NOW".

 

The team know what's happening and into the lift we all go.  GnJ then proclaims his Missus has gone for a leak - Jesus, talk about bad timing!  "Well, get oot and wait for her, hit floor 00 and ask for Jerry if you get any shit".  With a firm shove out the door, he's off and we're IN!  :-)

 

We just casually wander in and stroll over to the bar - we all order a drink and I'm telling the others to be cool.  I enthusiastically shake Jerry's hand and thank him - "This is like manna from heaven for us Jerry, thanks a million man".  "Aye, nae worries, just enjoy it.  See that bloke over there?  He's DC's chief mechanic, you should speak to him.  So we head over and I introduce meeself.  I explain that we've sort of (sort of??) blagged our way in and he finds this more than a little amusing.  So we're now chatting and finding out all sorts about Team McLaren.  I'm sure the others have stories of their own, but this is the one I remember from oor mate Taff.

 

"So, at Monaco you know how there's like no facilities?"

"Yeah"

"Well DC is a gentleman, he pisses in a bottle"

"HAHAHAHAHHAHAA"

"But Mika, he used to just piss against the wall and expect us to clean it up".

 

And so the story telling went on.  We found out loads, especially that McLaren were on a 2 stopper and so were Ferrari.  We were told emphatically that ALL the teams know what strategies they were all on.  Never quite managed to find out HOW they knew this, only that they did.  Found out also that DC WILL be in a McLaren in 2004, Ron Dennis only ever speaks to these guys to complain, and yes, they've all seen the bizarre Finnish boy thing too.  Oh, also the media make up loadsa shite which we fall for - DC & Kimi get along very very well.  Loads and loads and loads more followed, however, as the wine was free (we were actually playing bar tenders later in the night) I forget quite a lot of it.  We meet Kimi's number 2 mechanic (right rear wheel guy) the chef (who I insult repeatedly about having a gay scarf on - says the man in the skirt) the logistics manager Steve and then DC's yacht captain - Alister.  I keep on thanking these fine people for their understanding that we are mere gate-crashers, and I swear they are all really cool - just normal every day people.  All except this one bloke - Mark.  I am chatting with someone else from the team (the gay chef I think who is coming to Scotland in August) when one of our gang smashes a glass.  This Mark fag makes some remark about throwing out the tourists and this is my cue to say hello - Blimey style.

 

"So, you seem to have a bit of an attitude problem cause we're in here eh?"

"Well, how did you get in?"

"You answered a question with a question"

"Well you shouldn't be in here"

"You know, we've talked with Taff, Steven, Phil and a few more besides.  They're all really nice and not in the least bothered by our presence - we're not causing any bother and are REAL racing enthusiasts.  Why is it YOU have a problem?"