FanZone

My oldest son has decided he wants to be a Jimmie Johnson fan. He was a Tony Stewart fan, but for some reason he has decided to change allegiances.
He has a No. 20 Tony Stewart car. Now he wants a No. 48 Jimmie Johnson car. Like any good father, I promised I would get him one. Little did I know that it would lead me on an adventure that would rival any Indiana Jones pursuit.
After walking through the new FanZone at California Speedway, it made me wish he was still a Tony Stewart fan.
If I had to use two words to describe the new FanZone they would be: hot and crowded.
Word was that the wait for a table at Apex, the new Wolfgang Puck restaurant in the FanZone, was an hour. Guess that's good from a business standpoint, but not so good from the fan standpoint.
Honestly, if Apex was serving sawdust, people would have waited an hour for a seat just to get out of the sun.
The two things the FanZone desperately needs are trees and ash trays.
There were a few fledgling palm trees planted throughout the FanZone, but they will never be big enough to give enough shade for the smallest NASCAR fan.
Speaking of the smallest NASCAR fan, he smokes. Every NASCAR fan smokes. The FanZone may be the last place in California where smoking is not only permitted, but encouraged. Ash trays would have at least provided a place for the smokers to put their cigarette butts.
And whoever thought it was a good idea to have seals in the FanZone should be fined and flogged by animal control. It was hot enough walking around the FanZone in T-shirt and jeans. I can't imagine having a thee-inch layer of blubber on top of that. I can come close to imagining, but I have lost a lot of weight over the past couple of years and my blubber layer has shrunk considerably.
Talk about animal cruelty. These poor seals were forced to have their picture taken with race fans for $15 apiece, to get prodded by race fans for $20, then get a chance to relax in a plastic foam pool that looked more like a portable Jacuzzi than anything else.
It was enough having to walk around a bunch of smelly, sweaty, smoking race fans. But then to have to see and smell a couple overheated seals was a little too much.
I did finally make it to the Jimmie Johnson trailer to buy my son his new race car. They had to have been the longest lines of any of the trailers in the FanZone. Makes me wish even more than my son had stayed a Tony Stewart fan. Perhaps I can change his mind before the next race in February.
At least by then it will be cooler and not so unbearable.