I remember this one time out at PIR for the NASCAR Sprint Cup race we were standing in line for the shuttle to the infield and there was this guy who was so, so excited because he had a "HOT" garage/track pass. He was so stoked and couldn't wait to be that close to his favorite drivers and the loud noise of the cars, that smell, the smell of racing fuel and the intensity and excitement, oh man was he excited, so much so that he almost wet his pants . . .
He kept babbling on and on about how this was the first time he had ever had a "HOT" pass and how cool it was and all the great things he would see and all the great people he would talk to . . . He was as excited as a young child on Christmas morning or a kid in a candy store . . .
As the shuttle dropped us off and we walked with nervous anticipation towards the gate to the garage you could see he was grinning from ear-to-ear. The person at the gate checked my pass and let me in and once inside the magical nirvana of the "HOT" garage I stopped and turned around to watch the eager young man enter the gates of heaven in his world and as I watched the gate attendant point out to the young man that it didn't matter what kind of pass he had, he needed long pants and closed-toed shoes to get in . . .
I swear, at that moment I watched this poor guy fall to pieces, his heart sank like a rock in a vast ocean of disappointment and as the horror of the situation washed over this guys face I just couldn't help but laugh . . .
and smile knowing I too was once denied entry to the beloved "HOT" garage because I was wearing shorts, the difference was I planned for such a situation and just went to the car and put on my long pants despite the 112 degree heat and was soon enjoying the comforts of the nirvana that is a "HOT" garage while this poor guy was still standing outside the gate peering in like a short kid who is not tall enough to ride the thrill ride at the fair.