[fiction, gross?] F1's in town
I squeeze myself into a tactical moisture-wicking polo emblazoned with the logo of a car company whose wipers are worth a year of my rent. I put on my best, darkest pair of peepin' shades, the ones with the checkerboard on it.
Sun-burnt and jet-lagged I cast myself into an undulating sea of chrome and merch. Everybody's too hot. There's meat everywhere. I get my first erection since the Bush administration. I must share this with everyone. I now know happiness.
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