The day was in a bipolar mood: switching on and off from damp, sad cloudiness to happy sun-burning conditions.

had been waiting at the bottom of the first turn just past the grandstands. A mob of other people had the same thought pattern as us, causing the grounds to be full to nearly ever square meter. We had been lucky to be able to create a little territory, a few meters from the track, for ourselves by placing the towels we were meant to sit on but ended up not sitting on due to the necessity to stand to see anything happen during the Australian F1 Grand Prix in Melbourne.

We(as in the whole general admission crowd) stood in awe, mouths open and others jumpy in excitment, as in the distance — like bomber planes in the distance, the F1 Formula cars approached getting louder with every gained centimeter.

Then it happened:

Fist Vettel zoomed by…

Then Webber,

Hamilton,

Massa,

Alonso,

….

zoommmm, a cluster of them fly  by so quick you were lucky if you could even turn your head quick enough. As they passed, the sound from the engine was so strong, it reverberated through the fence and up your body into your ear causing the ear drum to wince and shrink in agony.

After a few moments of false brevity, you reside to putting on the earmuffs. Tough guy, I am no more.

And so it went on for almost two hours.

You eventually lose track of who is who and become content to get the photo of whichever car you may; event the guy in last place.

But this story is not about the race, its about getting autographs and our fascination to get one.

Why?

Its a simple signature and usually in the end does not really mean a thing.

During the free day they offered at the F1 race (I assume they do so at every race), there was a chance for lucky me to get my poster(for which I bought specifically that day to get signed) to get an autograph from a popular F1 racer.

The chance, unfortunately, was afforded to everyone else that day.

So unless you got there early enough (and sometimes still had to hope for luck), you were stuck waiting in a lonnng line for a signature that you were not likely getting,

The drivers only afforded 15-20 minutes to autograph signing and that was usually not enough for everyone.

Race enthusiasts went home with tears, kids went home disapointed, and I went home with a big sunburn on my face.

Two hours I waited to get Lewis Hamiltons signature, and came out of it only with now likelier chance of getting skin cancer.

It had been there that I had decided that this was the last day I had waited for an autograph.

While my wait for the autograph, and upon reflection of those two hours; I constantly think of an Asian man standing in front of me. He remained standing for essentially the entire time, however, he did disapear before the start of the autograph session.

Something (which I cannot pinpoint) struck me about this guy and grew a certain fascination. He, in his red mercedes hat, had been with a small child in a baby seat who was silent during the entire period.

I could sense he was a fan. He knew what he wanted and perhaps I admired that. And maybe, just maybe, he had some sixth sense of realization (the same one I had had but ignored) and bowed out before he could let disapointment get to him.

And if there was any ill-feeling to the failed signing, it was my sympathy or sadness that the guy could not get his autograph to which he could brag, in a few years, to the baby in the carriage about that one sunny day.

But I continued on.

I managed to calm any disapointment by telling myself that it was only a signature, a squigly line across a small paper.

Further, from viewing the circus earlier that day(in which Fernando Alonso had been signing cards) that it was a very quick process where the fan(me or you) went up and picked up a generically signed post-card. In the end, when all things were considered, it meant nothing.

The things the human race will go crazy for.

Instead; I reckoned(to put an Australian tone into this article), the chance to hopefully interview the biggest names through journalistic work would be enough and autograph. It woud be enough, I reckoned to be able to brag to people that I had a cooler job then they did.

I was not angry though. Not disapointed nor angry. Instead I was awash in the days activities at the Formula 1 Race, beholden to the new experience. Just like a kid getting a toy that all his friends had, I had that gitty swashing of emotions in my stomach of when you get to do something that you always had wanted too but could only watch someone else do through photographs or television.

The jubilation was doubled only by my passion in sports.

Although I am not the biggest follower of F1 racing, I knew the names, the locations and the deep heritage/culture of the event I was at. This wasn’t simple left turns, it was the real deal.

And I was there.

I soaked up the moment as I entered the disturbingly claustrophobically tight tram onwards home.

And the day had not been fully wasted,

only half-wasted.

I had gotten my $5 dollar poster signed by Renee Gracie— an 18 year-old female driver who had been promoted to drive the Porsche Carerra Cup Series this year.

Its a good first job.

SO when she becomes famous and I look back and have a her signature, maybe there will be a bigger appreciation for the day.

And just like that, I was sitting there a few meters from the track, listening to my hearing diminish with every screech of a passing jet on wheels.

After the race, just like an angry riot of people fighting for the last twinky, fans swarmed the race track in order to get a last glimps of the guy who won the race: Kimi Raikkonen.

Although there was nothing wrong with it, I embraced the phantom chance to be a rebel and run onto the track as if I was disobeying some sort of rule.

As I passed, a truck with a broken F1 car on it. and it hit me with a square jaw-breaker.

Despite the wait.

Despite the sunburn.

The exhilerating nature of the entire Grand Prix re-affirmed the spectacular wonder to which sports can hit on.

And I got a new car!

 

Good Night, and good luck,

Catch more pictures at Flickr(Mark Gorokhovski)  or follow me @markgorokhovski

Would you or have you ever waited a long period for a autograph? answer below.