Security Breach

By Dennis Terry

New Hampshire is a very beautiful state, but on Sunday it was so hot that I felt like we were in Darlington.  As a result I don’t remember much about the race.

Kurt Busch won, Stewart crashed Newman and Robbie Gordon threw his helmet at Waltrip… well something like that anyway.

Since I’m a little mixed up about New Hampshire I’m going to tell you about a funny predicament that I got myself into at Sonoma a few weeks ago.

Ever since I’ve been old enough to get out of the house and get into trouble I’ve pretty much… well… been getting out of the house and into trouble.

I’ve managed to get into (and out of) a lot of very sticky “situations” and it’s fair to say that I’ve developed somewhat of a reputation for being a guy who lives by my own rules.

My wife calls it the “DT curve”... When I put my personal spin and rationalization on most any rule or social situation.

For West Coast races like Sonoma, a NASCAR charter company flies most of the race teams. They charter two 737’s carrying about 350 people each. One plane leaves Charlotte on Thursday with the early team and the other plane leaves on Saturday with the pit crews, but both planes return to Charlotte on Sunday night after the race.

The trick is, as soon as the first plane is full it leaves. The second plane waits for everyone else who either can’t find the airport, can’t drive more then 75 mph and there is always some jerk who takes the Golden Gate Bridge and then gets stuck in the middle of gay pride week in S.F.

Anyway, the point is that the second plane lands in Charlotte around 9:00 am Monday morning and the first plane lands around 2:00 am Monday morning. For those of us who have to be at work drawing bushes and mulch beds, the second plane is incredible inconvenient to say the least.

These charter planes leave from a private jet center and security inspection is a temporary set up on the tarmac that is handled by our fine Homeland Security officers.

When we arrived at airport there were already hundreds of crew members in line going through security. It was painfully apparent that we were not going to get aisle or window seats (seating is first come, first serve) and it was doubtful that we were even going to make the first plane.

The thought of missing that fist plane or risk getting a seat in the middle of a 240 lb Buscaglio or 225 lb Kennerly was too much for me to bare, so ole’ DT walks through the jet center with another team on a private jet (exempt of security) and then over to the 737 charter where I land a sweet aisle seat with more leg room than an H2!

Man, it was one Cadillac of a seat for the long flight home and it was in the very back of the plane where it’s nice and quiet and close to the kitchen. I ate my cold sandwich, traded my cookie for an extra pillow (that’s a big time trade for me to give up a cookie!) and took three Ambien to help me sleep on the flight home.

BUT... Right as I get comfy, the Homeland Security officers come aboard the plane and announce that there was a “stow away” who circumvented security. They described this guy as a great big fellow with beedie eyes and a sneaky little walk.  He was also carrying an extra pillow under his shirt (real funny – that wasn’t a pillow fellows).

The whole plane was to be unloaded and everyone was going to have to go BACK through security unless the culprit came forward with his luggage. Well, I may live by my own rules, but I’m about as honest as they come, so I got out of my seat and started the walk of shame to the front of the plane.

To the cheers and applause of 350 of my fellow teammates and competitors, all of whom were more then happy to see me finally get busted for my antics, I finally made my way off the plane and through my own personal DT security inspection.

Once back on the plane I was greeted with a complimentary “ticker tape parade” of apple cores, soda cans and other leftovers as I made my way back to my Cadillac seat.

Once the Ambien kicked in I was sleeping like a baby and somewhere over Nevada my payback came in the form of a Sharpie wielded by Ira Joe Hussey (front tire changer for Stewert).

Ira Joe commenced to drawing on my face.  There were pork chop sideburns, kitty cat whiskers and a uni-brow while the Ambien kept me dreaming about 11 second pit stops and that cookie that I gave up for an extra pillow.

The sad thing is that none of my teammates said a word! So, when we landed I drove home and went straight to bed to sleep off the rest of the Ambien.

Words will NEVER describe my wife’s reaction when she woke in the morning and saw her sleeping husband!

Embarrassing? Well, to some maybe, but a small price to pay for a first class seat in coach.

Thank God we only have to go to Sonoma once a year!

DT