helmet love // 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

I

Who knew you could find someone attractive even though their entire body is covered?

After a successful Grand Prix day at Silverstone today, the entire McLaren crew have gone on a night out into town.
I'm not sure if the drivers are with us, but everyone made a group decision that we didn't want paparazzi recognising us and stalking us all night long. We had to- somehow- come up with a solution that allows us to go on a night out, whilst at the same time hides our faces. The solution, you ask? Driver overalls, and helmets!

Currently, our plan has 50% failed. Every club we've gone into, we've drawn attention to ourselves, and had photos taken. But, we've kept our helmets on all night long, so none of the photos have our faces in! Also, the longer we stay in a club, the less attention we attract, so we've tried to stay in a club for as long as possible before swapping to a new place.

The crew has been in the same club for a long time now, giving me time to accidentally befriend a member of our crew. I thought it was my coworker Brad, I don't know how I mistaked him for this guy when they're clearly very different in size. Anyway! We can hardly understand each other with the helmets and the heavy music, our communication has relied on body language, but we somehow have that spark? Do you get what I mean? Like someone just gives you that feeling?

I get you're probably thinking 'just lift your visor up', but we've got a game going on amongst the crew. Every time we leave to go to another club, we have to complete a dare given to us by Brad. We can only take our visors off when we're given a dare, or when the game finishes. Obviously we can lift our visors for a drink, but you can't really tell a stranger by their smile, can you?

Just as the anonymous guy lifts his helmet to take a sip from his straw, another one of our crew comes and grabs us. We've been tipsily lingering around this corner table for so long that I haven't seen another crew member for ages. They beckon us to follow, so we drink what we can manage of our drinks and leave them at the table. I make sure to not get them both mixed up, but the one that came to get us is much taller than the guy I've been chatting- trying to chat to.

The crew member leads us outside, where we join the rest of the group. The fresh air filters into my helmet like a drip feed tube; it feels like that initial first gulp of air after holding your breath under water for too long. A few 'drivers' tumble out of the club doors, stumbling and struggling to keep themselves up right without their human-handle next to them. From an insiders view, we're all having one of the best times of our lives. But, from an outsider's view? Pfft. I just hope we don't get arrested before our flight to Austria tomorrow! Everyone crowds around Brad- as he's the tallest member of the crew- and we find a quieter spot around a dark corner to find out the next dare.

"Fuck me, I can breathe." He gasps as he lifts his helmet off, his northern accent stronger now that he's drunk. "I've got the next dare."

Yeah... how I mistaked the mystery crew member for Brad I don't know.

We do our dares based on the numbers literally duct taped to the back of our overalls. I believe I have number 13 attached to me, which feels like bad luck. I'm practically destined for a dare at some point tonight, unless I go home before my number is called...

Yeah right!

"Right, this one is a joint one, because we're running out of time." Brad says, pulling his phone out and getting the wheel up. "What's a joint dare we can do?"