We’ve been F1 enthusiasts since 2019—back when Renault was actually named Renault, Alfa Romeo was still on the grid, and Sebastian Vettel’s teammate was a young driver named Charles Leclerc. We’ve seen the sport evolve, watched teams rise and fall, learned to read the politics as much as the racing lines.
So when we arrived in Vegas the night before the Grand Prix, we knew what we were walking into. Or at least, we thought we did.
We checked into our Hilton resort just outside the Strip. I don’t like being in the Strip- too much chaos, too much noise- and besides, Rashid wanted to test drive the rental car we’d picked up: a BMW 4 Series. Priorities.
We left the Hilton resort at 4 PM. In Vegas, that means it’s already dark—the kind of cold, sharp dark that makes you pull your jacket tighter and wonder if you packed enough layers. We parked across from MGM and walked toward what we assumed would be the Heineken entrance. Logic said it should be street-side. Most venues work that way.
That’s when the confusion started.
MGM staff waved us ahead. “Just keep going,” they said. So we did. When we reached “ahead,” a guard looked at us like we’d materialized out of thin air. “I don’t know why they keep sending people here,” he said, gesturing vaguely in another direction. “There’s no entrance. You have to go around.“
Around where? He didn’t say.
We started walking. That’s when we spotted him- a guy heading confidently in yet another direction. I stopped him. “Do you know the way?”
He shrugged. “I just jump the fence.“
Naturally, we followed him. I figured maybe it was a low fence, a reasonable shortcut. We reached it. Seven to eight feet tall. He started stacking concrete stones like he was preparing a prison break.
I looked at Rashid. “Absolutely not.”
The guy shrugged again before he left. “There’s a paddock shuttle a few meters up the road. If you act the part, you can get in. It’ll drop you closer to the entrance.“
I didn’t have a choice at that point. We’d been walking in circles for over an hour. So I made an executive decision: Loewe Hammock bag front and center, shoulders back, confidence dialed up. We walked onto that shuttle like we belonged there.
No one asked a single question.
The shuttle dropped everyone at the paddock gate.
We didn’t go to the paddock—we walked to the entrance. Finally.
Inside, we had to find our grandstand: KZ2104. Rashid was taking photos, so I told him I’d meet him at the seats. A few minutes later, he called. “There’s no KZ2. I’m seeing K22.”
I laughed. “It’s the font. Z-2. Grandstand KZ2, section 104.”
By the time we sat down, it was around 6 PM. Cold. Windy. We huddled near one of the randomly placed gas heaters by the grandstand entrance, watching F1 Academy practice. Around 7, the announcement came: rain expected at 8 PM.
We decided to wait it out, stay for Practice 2.
The drizzle started right on schedule. Manageable at first. Then it wasn’t. People started leaving. We lasted about two hours in those freezing bleacher seats before we packed it in and joined the exodus. The freezing condition with drizzle, unusual for the desert environment around Vegas this time of the year, also made practice a challenging affair for the cars and all the F1 Teams.
Let me do the math for you: ninety minutes of navigation chaos, 6.2 miles of walking in circles, two hours of actual seat time before the weather won.
That was night one. We hoped for better condition the following night with more events scheduled like the F1 qualifying and the F1 Academy Race 1.
All Around The World 