GentlemanJakeG
Virgin
- Joined
- Jun 12, 2015
- Posts
- 21
The Gulfstream G-550 jet banked left then leveled out. The captain came over the speaker and said that they were on final approach to Singapore Changi International Airport.
Looking over, Quentin Sabo saw his teammate and fellow Formula 1 driver stirring out of a nap he had been taking. The Mercedes AMG team principal was still banging away on a laptop.
The executive in charge of media relations sat in the large, leather chair across from him.
“Quentin, a representative of the government’s customs agency will be boarding as soon as we touch down. Once you are cleared, we will walk out through the airport and be escorted to the transportation to the hotel. Expect to get a lot of attention but don’t talk to the media. We have the press conference tomorrow at 10 AM and that’s when you will talk, ok?”
“No worries. I just want to get a shower then climb in the bed.” Quentin replied.
Quentin turned and stared out the window of the luxury jet into the starry night.
One year ago he never would have thought he would be winging around the world as a driver in the most prestigious motor racing circuit, Formula 1.
Less than a year ago he was just a test driver for the McLaren F1 team, testing the cars when the engineers applied new equipment or adjusted the set up for a particular grand prix.
Then he got a chance to go to Bahrain for the F1 new drivers testing.
He apparently did well because the session wasn’t even complete when he had an offer from the Sahara Force India team.
He finished 3rd and stood on the podium of his first ever drive as a Formula 1 driver.
Then the wins started coming.
When he won his 3rd straight at Monaco, the media started taking an interest in him.
As the publicity increased so did the groupies.
Quentin just blew it off. The girls…and women throwing themselves at him held no interest for him. Yes, he would sleep with a select female when his urges got the best of him but his main focus was winning.
When the second driver at the Mercedes team had a tantrum and walked out on the team, the team principal bought Quentin’s contract from his previous team.
Now he drove a “Silver Arrow” Mercedes.
The Singapore Grand Prix was drawing media, sports as well as other types, because if Quentin won the race, he would break the record for most wins in a rookie season.
The media relations people within the team had arranged a large number of events to get Quentin out there. And somewhere in between the press conference, and VIP meet and greets, he had to drive the race car in practice, get the engineers to set it up, qualify the car, and then run the race.
It was actually easier to run the little open wheel cars on small tracks back in his home province of Quebec.
He had been racing cars since he was 8 years old. His mom’s boyfriend, George had taken him one day and let him drive a little go-cart and Quentin was hooked.
He raced open wheel cars during the summer while he was at the Universite du Quebec, to make money. He won at every level he raced and was offered the test driver job with McLaren.
Now he was on the verge of writing his name in the Formula 1 history book.
The plane landed.
Customs officials came on board and soon stamped his Canadian passport with an entry stamp for Singapore.
Quentin stood and took his Oakley bag and draped it over his right shoulder.
He wore some lightweight khaki North Face pants and a white Mercedes AMG team t-shirt. On his head he wore the black team cap with his Oakley sunglasses perched on the bill.
“Quentin, make sure you say hi to your fans, but keep moving. The security team wants us to move quickly to the vehicles.”
“I’m on it.” Quentin said.
As soon as he walked out in to the terminal of the airport screams and cries sounded. Women and girls began jumping up and down yelling out his name.
“God…I feel like I am walking with the Beatles!” His team mate said laughing.
Quentin laughed also then started the waving and smiling as the sound of cameras of all types began firing off.
His team mate was talking loudly to the crowd, “Hello ladies…you know I am a world champion?” then he laughed and wrapped his arm around Quentin.
“Welcome to F1!” he said.
Quentin moved toward the crowd which was behind a velvet rope.
He signed some autographs all while sliding down the line of mostly women and girls.
One woman, a young Singaporean woman leaned over and kissed him on the lips then began jumping up and down screaming while her friends laughed and jumped with her.
“I am sorry ladies and gentlemen, Quentin has to go now.” The media consultant took him by the arm and maneuvered him away moving in the direction of a door.
Around the door the sports media, journalist, bloggers, and writers were gathered and they began yelling questions at him.
“Quentin, can you do it? Can you break Nigel’s record?”
“Press conference tomorrow guys.” The consultant yelled back
But Quentin had slowed almost to a stop.
He was staring at the reporters and media.
He recognized many of the writers.
But one stood out for two reasons.
The first reason was that Quentin had never seen them before.
The second reason was that this reporter or blogger or writer or photographer was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Leaning over, Quentin asked, “Who is that?” indicating towards the woman.
=========================================================
I am looking for a literate female writer for the role of the reporter. Of course, you could make her whatever you want. Please send me a PM with a character bio or what your first post would look like and let’s see where this story will go. It may go around the world following the racing circuit or it might just stop after this race.
Looking over, Quentin Sabo saw his teammate and fellow Formula 1 driver stirring out of a nap he had been taking. The Mercedes AMG team principal was still banging away on a laptop.
The executive in charge of media relations sat in the large, leather chair across from him.
“Quentin, a representative of the government’s customs agency will be boarding as soon as we touch down. Once you are cleared, we will walk out through the airport and be escorted to the transportation to the hotel. Expect to get a lot of attention but don’t talk to the media. We have the press conference tomorrow at 10 AM and that’s when you will talk, ok?”
“No worries. I just want to get a shower then climb in the bed.” Quentin replied.
Quentin turned and stared out the window of the luxury jet into the starry night.
One year ago he never would have thought he would be winging around the world as a driver in the most prestigious motor racing circuit, Formula 1.
Less than a year ago he was just a test driver for the McLaren F1 team, testing the cars when the engineers applied new equipment or adjusted the set up for a particular grand prix.
Then he got a chance to go to Bahrain for the F1 new drivers testing.
He apparently did well because the session wasn’t even complete when he had an offer from the Sahara Force India team.
He finished 3rd and stood on the podium of his first ever drive as a Formula 1 driver.
Then the wins started coming.
When he won his 3rd straight at Monaco, the media started taking an interest in him.
As the publicity increased so did the groupies.
Quentin just blew it off. The girls…and women throwing themselves at him held no interest for him. Yes, he would sleep with a select female when his urges got the best of him but his main focus was winning.
When the second driver at the Mercedes team had a tantrum and walked out on the team, the team principal bought Quentin’s contract from his previous team.
Now he drove a “Silver Arrow” Mercedes.
The Singapore Grand Prix was drawing media, sports as well as other types, because if Quentin won the race, he would break the record for most wins in a rookie season.
The media relations people within the team had arranged a large number of events to get Quentin out there. And somewhere in between the press conference, and VIP meet and greets, he had to drive the race car in practice, get the engineers to set it up, qualify the car, and then run the race.
It was actually easier to run the little open wheel cars on small tracks back in his home province of Quebec.
He had been racing cars since he was 8 years old. His mom’s boyfriend, George had taken him one day and let him drive a little go-cart and Quentin was hooked.
He raced open wheel cars during the summer while he was at the Universite du Quebec, to make money. He won at every level he raced and was offered the test driver job with McLaren.
Now he was on the verge of writing his name in the Formula 1 history book.
The plane landed.
Customs officials came on board and soon stamped his Canadian passport with an entry stamp for Singapore.
Quentin stood and took his Oakley bag and draped it over his right shoulder.
He wore some lightweight khaki North Face pants and a white Mercedes AMG team t-shirt. On his head he wore the black team cap with his Oakley sunglasses perched on the bill.
“Quentin, make sure you say hi to your fans, but keep moving. The security team wants us to move quickly to the vehicles.”
“I’m on it.” Quentin said.
As soon as he walked out in to the terminal of the airport screams and cries sounded. Women and girls began jumping up and down yelling out his name.
“God…I feel like I am walking with the Beatles!” His team mate said laughing.
Quentin laughed also then started the waving and smiling as the sound of cameras of all types began firing off.
His team mate was talking loudly to the crowd, “Hello ladies…you know I am a world champion?” then he laughed and wrapped his arm around Quentin.
“Welcome to F1!” he said.
Quentin moved toward the crowd which was behind a velvet rope.
He signed some autographs all while sliding down the line of mostly women and girls.
One woman, a young Singaporean woman leaned over and kissed him on the lips then began jumping up and down screaming while her friends laughed and jumped with her.
“I am sorry ladies and gentlemen, Quentin has to go now.” The media consultant took him by the arm and maneuvered him away moving in the direction of a door.
Around the door the sports media, journalist, bloggers, and writers were gathered and they began yelling questions at him.
“Quentin, can you do it? Can you break Nigel’s record?”
“Press conference tomorrow guys.” The consultant yelled back
But Quentin had slowed almost to a stop.
He was staring at the reporters and media.
He recognized many of the writers.
But one stood out for two reasons.
The first reason was that Quentin had never seen them before.
The second reason was that this reporter or blogger or writer or photographer was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Leaning over, Quentin asked, “Who is that?” indicating towards the woman.
=========================================================
I am looking for a literate female writer for the role of the reporter. Of course, you could make her whatever you want. Please send me a PM with a character bio or what your first post would look like and let’s see where this story will go. It may go around the world following the racing circuit or it might just stop after this race.
