Formula 1: Harder and Harder to Breathe

I can’t even describe the drama of yesterday’s race qualifying. I never watch qualifying. Qualifying in some ways is far more stressful than watching the race itself. I get PTSD over the days where my big-headed Yoshi would be stock, vibrating mid-grid waiting for the beep beep beep of lights out. I never would have guessed that my all winning team would, for the first time all season, be keeping the likes of my Yoshi and me company in 5th and 6th pole position. 

Through all three qualifying stages I stood, nervously watching. I threw my hands in the air with celebration for one split second before Kvyat overtook my man. By the end, I fell to the floor begging out loud, “ANYONE but Vettel.” By then, all we were left with was a sad, sad serenade of Maroon 5 playing to a crowd of tens of thousands of die hard fans as I sat on the hard tile ground of our balcony, forehead to glass, and thought how ironic it was that Adam Levine would be singing Harder and Harder to Breathe in this dark grey, smokey, smog that is Singapore right now. 

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