Hmm? I only know one person named Hinchcliffe, which I don't think is a common name, so can I-T be the one and Only?
Having arrived to my departing Aeroplane's gate at 6:30AM Tuesday morning, naturally I was a little blurry-eyed. Sitting in the waiting area the loudspeaker crackled to life somewheres' north 'O 7AM: Paging passenger Hinchcliffe. Please report to the podium with your passport; WTF?
Instantly behind my shoulder a bunch of waiting passengers warmly greeted the oncoming celebrity, with one saying: I had you in my Pool Sunday, to which Thy Mayor 'O Hinchtown quickly replied "I NEVER Bet upon Myself;" Hya! As Hinch' was quickly surrounded by several people. Can I get a picture of my daughter with you, your autograph, etc.
James was very accommodating, and I somewhat gamely tried stumblin', fumblin' and most definitely bumblin' my way towards thee Mayor who was trying to oblige the female gate's "Desk Jockey's" request to present himself as he was surrounded by a small throng 'O well-wishers.
I tried saying his name twice to NO avail and decided to simply step back to my seat instead of stumbling into the mini-crowd surrounding him, to which a very Officious' man next to me who later-on sounded like a pilot asked me "Who's Dat?" It's James Hinchcliffe, a racing driver who was on Pole at this year's Indy 500, which he simply replied Oh?
HOLY KUHNADIUN' HEARTHROBS BATMAN!
So in a Yogi Berra Deja Voodoo all over again type 'O moment I mused to myself how amazing that Messer Hinchcliffe would be upon my "Puddle Jumper" flight to Detroit, thee Motor City, albeit I was momentarily Cornfuzed over why he'd need a passport to travel to Detroit, eh?
Forcing my way to the front of the Queue, after they'd called for persons needing assistance to step forward, I boarded the plane with white cane in hand with said gate attendant escorting me down the Jet-way, before the flight's two female cabin attendants escorted me to my Row-11 aisle seat, while all the time I ARSE-Sumed that James would naturally be in first class...
Then as the plane filled up two men behind me kabitzed in foreign dialogue which to Mwah sounded Russian, giving me pause to vacillate that perhaps both Schmidt Peterson Motorsports drivers were on my flight?
Aka Mikhail Aleshin, who's now commonly referred to as thee Mad Russian...
The "small" Aeroplane with two rows of two seats abreast took off and I quickly drifted asleep for the entire 45mins duration...
Thus upon reaching the gate, I told the young lady sitting next to me in the window seat that I'd be waiting to deplane last, since I had to wait for assistance and to let me know when she wanted out. Ok thanks, how 'bout now as everybody was standing in the aisle doing the typical "Hurry Up 'N Wait" routine as I heard an instantly recognizable voice directly in front of Mwah, who'd apparently been sitting Kitty-corner from me on the aisle seat one row to my left.
Thus in the stillness of the waiting crowd, as the young lady was getting kinda pushy I asked: So did Conor ever give you your shoes back James? To which he simply replied Animal!
And after a momentary "Pregnant-pause," a person in front of him asked, are you the person who wasn't wearing shoes at the Banquet? And then somebody else broke in how they'd shown his shoes being passed around the table and some woman holding them up confusedly... Yeah, that was me James replied in a slight huff.
As the night before on local Indianapolis television, we'd watched the Indianapolis 500 Victory Banquet hosted by "the Voice," aka Dave Calabro at Carpets' Manor where Calabro had joked about Conor Daly needing to purchase black shoes for the evening, which turned into joking 'bout Conor not being able to afford shoes. As even rookie Max Chilton had joked during his acceptance speech how Conor had asked to borrow some hair gel for the evening...
And then my fifteen seconds of standing next to James was over in a flash as the young lady gently pushed me out of the way, causing me to mash my face upon the offending overhead stowage bin, skewing my glasses as I stepped back into my aisle.
Hearing Hinch' tell somebody he'd seen 241mph on his dashboard going into Turn-1 as I told Hinch' how enjoyable it had been watching him and Ryan Hunter-Reay repeatedly swap the lead during the start of the race! Which I think it was there he said it was as fun as a Go Karting race.
Whilst I also heard him tell another passenger that they get so few days off - that obviously he was traveling Up North Eh! Hence the need for a passport, since Y'all can't just let anybody trek across Thy GURR-REAT White Northern Plains, right? Like Take Off Eh, Yuhs Hoser!
As another passenger asked how old are you? To which Hinchcliffe replied 29', and some quip 'bout looking older, or was it younger? Hya! As Thy Mayor 'O Hinchtown disembarked and vanished into the crowd.
Afterwards, as one of the flight attendants was walking me forwards to my awaiting wheelchair I mentioned how we'd had the Indy 500 Pole-sitter on our plane this morning and he'd sat right across from me.
Yeah, we were trying to figure out who he was, to which the second flight attendant behind me said he was in 10B when I said he'd been sitting in Row-10...