Appetite For Destruction

Talladega Superspeedway demands that no fan partake in any sort of lewd behavior during one of its two NASCAR weekends. (Cue the laughter anytime now.)

A venture into the fields in and around Talladega reveals a war zone without the guns, IEDs and rubble. Bodies saturated with barley and hops lie all over the place, some clothed and some not. The ones that are standing aren’t standing straight up, and a few stragglers are still hanging onto that beer from the night before, which by this time tastes like bath water. There are, of course, fancy living arrangements with electricity and running water, but a school bus gutted for 72 hours of debauchery does just fine.

Indeed, life at Talladega is not for the faint of heart. Many adolescent males have gawked at their first set of breasts, and many busty bimbos have unveiled theirs to earn Mardi Gras-style necklaces. Beads around these parts of central Alabama are worth far more than the American dollar.

No matter how hard Talladega tries to redefine its character, the legend remains intact. Some 25 police agencies from across Alabama attempt to infiltrate the crowd with hopes of creating a family-friendly atmosphere. They’re on horse, in choppers above, on bikes and on foot. But they are far outnumbered by folks who resort to medieval living just to see a pack of race cars scream by every 50 seconds.

Bad behavior isn’t condoned at Talladega. It is, however, expected. Last April, 14 fans were permanently banned for throwing objects onto the track when Jeff Gordon — considered the devil at Dale-a-dega — won the Aaron’s 499. Red Bull Racing’s Brian Vickers, driver of the No. 83 Toyota, heard a few F-bombs after his controversial victory last fall.

Just remember to send a search party should anyone brave the infield or outskirts of Talladega.