Every year, on the last Sunday of May, my husband Paul settles in to watch the Indy 500 on TV. He follows the whole IndyCar series religiously. So for his birthday, I decided this was the year he'd actually be there.
We flew via Dublin, clearing US immigration before we'd even left Ireland, a genuinely brilliant shortcut that meant no queuing behind several planeloads of passengers on arrival in the States. We spent three nights in Dublin first, catching up with my friend Oona over a few Irish pubs and a night of traditional jigs, and even fitting in a visit to the old Kilmainham Gaol.
From Dublin we flew via Philadelphia to Indianapolis, meeting a lovely American Airlines stewardess, Tricia, along the way, who we stayed in touch with. When she later came over to visit, I gave her and her travel companion a tour to see what most people don't.
Before race day, we took a side trip to St Louis to see the Gateway Arch — no matter how many photos you've seen of it, standing under that curve of stainless steel looking straight up into the sky is something else entirely. We walked the park under a heavy sky, rode up for the view over downtown (the Old Courthouse dome, Busch Stadium, the Mississippi running brown and wide with barges working the channel, and the bridges stretching west toward Illinois), and took the obligatory selfie under the arch, which still made us laugh.
Back in Indianapolis, the build-up to race day was an event in itself — the 70th Annual Lucas Oil 500 Festival Parade, with the whole downtown turned over to race week energy: balloon displays shaped like race cars, marching bands, cheerleaders, and police motorcycle stunts. We were lucky enough to get hold of seating tickets for the parade route (bleacher seats, section 15, row G, seat 7), giving us a great view of it all. Between the big set pieces we found the kind of place we always seem to stumble on — a bar lined floor to ceiling with beer cans and Guinness flags, a green-lit tree in the corner, and a piano under a "Happy Hour" sign, the sort of room you only find when you're not trying too hard.
Then came the big day itself. We took a converted school bus out to the Speedway, and the atmosphere was something else entirely. On race day, there was a similar procession to the parade, a military tribute, the traditional singing of "Back Home Again in Indiana," and Brendan Fraser waving the green flag to start the race. Our seats looked right over the start-finish line and Marcus Armstrong's pit box, so we watched every tyre change up close. Close enough to the pit lane that we spotted Daniel Ricciardo right up against the fence at one point, all smiles for the cameras. Rosenqvist took the win that day, and from where we sat we had a front-row view of the celebrations rippling through the pit lane. Paul's reaction alone made the whole trip worth it.
We flew home business class via New York, and on landing into Dublin in the early hours, made the most of the Aer Lingus arrivals lounge for a shower and a freshen-up before the final short hop home. Before we left for the airport, we caught up with Tricia over dinner, a lovely way to bookend the trip.
A surprise birthday gift, and honestly one of the best trips we've done. If you've got a motorsport fan in your life who's only ever watched from the sofa, I can tell you exactly how to get them trackside.