Pinky and Rossi, together at last!

Well, OK, so it’s not like we ran off to Vegas and got married or anything, but I did get to touch him. Last year, in spite of the fabulous Red Bull VIP access I had, I never actually SAW the man. I left thinking perhaps he doesn’t actually exist, and maybe it really is just the bike. So this year, I was determined to see him, face to face. Having a Pit Suite ticket meant I could stare down at him as he got on his bike, even though I was supposed to be in a suite at the opposite end of pit lane. Walking in behind George ensured the guard didn’t bother checking my pass, so I got to hang with my homies. Over the garage next to Rossi and Edwards’!!! We could stare down at the madding throngs vying for his autograph as he made his way to the trailer, or watch from above as he got on his bike. But that’s not how I got to meet him. I ran into Britt and Jean Marc just outside the GP paddock area, and we chatted for awhile. I saw someone walk by the window of the Clinica Mobile who looked like him, and figured the best thing to do would be to stay put until he came out. Which was easy, as there was a golf cart for us to sit in, and plenty of people watching to do. I offered Loris Capirossi a ride, but he just smiled and kept walking. Eventually, one of Rossi’s people arrived on a scooter to escort him to another place. So I grabbed Britt and we followed him to a nearby building. By the time we arrived, he’d finished signing some autographs and was being escorted into another building next door. I stood in his path and his escort tried to push me aside as I asked if I could get my picure with him. He cheerfully stopped and obliged, even though there were some technical difficulties with the camera.

This is a still from the short video Britt took, the video is at:

So even Jean Marc, who had not been listening to me blather on about him for the past few years, was surprised that I didn’t just start kissing him. All I can say to explain my enormous restraint, is that my momma raised me too well. I seriously thought that if I saw him this weekend I would do something along those lines, then be carted off to Monterey county jail. Or not, maybe he would have liked it. Anyway, it’s a good thing I didn’t do anything to scare him, because I got to see him the next morning. There I was, walking to Jamba Juice for my morning smoothie when this nasty yellow H3 assaults my eyes. Sitting at the red light in that C02-belching monstrosity is none other than Rossi himself!!! I despise Hummers, and well, seeing my hero in one certainly brought him down a notch. His sidekick Ullio (sp.) was in the passenger seat, as one would expect. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared, smiling at him as I put my hand on my heart. He smiled and waved back, looking kinda nervous. The light was red long enough, I could have bum-rushed the car, but that’s not my style. I just stood there and tried to look cute, smiling mutely like some kind of retarded mime. Knowing his car, it was easy to spot, as it was the only yellow H3 in the paddock, and the only one with an autograph on the driver’s window. I thought about breaking in and hiding in the back, but figured that had been done before. So I chose a more polite approach. On my fun “I didn’t realize you were cool until” post-its I wrote him a little note. I slipped it into a folded piece of paper and stuck it in his windshield wiper. I thought about removing the other girls’ phone number that were stuck in the window jamb, but figured it’d be bad karma. Even if he never calls or reads this, I can rest soundly with the knowledge that I did what I could and I did it without compromising myself.


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