Day at the races

 

 

 

 

The Red Bull Air Races came to town this weekend, and we managed to take in some of the excitement around our nap-time schedule.

Yesterday afternoon, we strolled down to our edge of SD Harbor, where we had watched throughout the week as several floats with pylons attached to them had been appearing in preparation for the event.

The shoreline was full of families, sports photographers toting heavy zoom lenses and tripods, young couples and gatherings of friends. A group of grown-ups tossed a baseball around, little children scooped up clumps of wet sand and tangled chartreuse seaweed from the low-tide surf. The air smelled of charcoal, burgers and cheap beer. A noisy helicopter thundered overhead to manage each race.

L wore a dress and her Easter hat as if she were headed off to sip mint juleps at the Kentucky Derby. She pretended to swoop and soar like an airplane and sculpted great fairy castles in the sand. C sat tranquilly beside me, discussing everything he saw, asking for the planes to come back after they'd finished a race and wanting to know the names of the men on the boats who were supporting the racers.

Under cover of hazy clouds, we watched the tiny prop planes zip low and fast around the slalom course, turning from side to side as they passed through the pylons. We cheered for the ones who shot up high into the sky and rolled away from the course. C was quite concerned when a few pilots knocked over the inflatable pylons, reassured only when little boats filled with men cruised out to set them back up again.

In short, we were amazed and entertained -- for free.