Friday March 26, 1:15pm, PBIC: By the time I ran to the rental car for my laptop and made it back to the VIP tent, my hair was curling from the humidity and I was sweating through my black t-shirt. Rodrigo Pessoa was waiting for me, and I was sweating. I said a curse under my breath and ran a hand through my hair. Then I stepped through the doors of the tent and looked around for my idol.
He was deep in conversation with Jimmy Torano. I tried to forget that I’m actually a starry-eyed girl and went with my best serious journalist look as I walked over to interrupt them. Jimmy made himself scarce and I tried not to flub the first question. As interviews go, it was pretty standard. There weren’t exactly fireworks and stars when Rodrigo shook my hand. Not that I expected there to be (not really. . .)
Mostly, my longtime crush looked tired as he waited for the last class of the day to start. His eyes flicked around quickly from TV screen to ring to the people passing by behind me. I got my quotes and basked in the glow of Rodrigo’s stare, when he took his eyes off other distractions to look my way. His answers, swathed in that vaguely South American, vaguely European accent, were succinct, intelligent and precise. The best of the best live in a big, pressurized fishbowl, but I think they like it that way.
9,000 people showed up to WEF’s final grand prix last night and watched McLain and Sapphire rule the class. A skydiver parachuted into the main ring as the national anthem ended. George Morris shouted at riders during the jump off from his spot near the in gate. Rodrigo and Pablo Barrios held up big oversized checks as the top two riders in the FTI Riders Challenge.
And the starry-eyed girl that lives inside this journalist loved every minute of it.