The Life of Riley A reporter learns how the other half lives at the Indy 500. by ron martin Indianapolis -- I have finally hit the big time! After spending the last 15 years gathering notes and reporting on auto racing from the media centers and pit lanes of race tracks too numerous to mention, I am watching a race the way racing should be watched -- with the rich folk in a hospitality suite. Media centers are almost perfect for reporters, providing notes and information as the race progresses, but the fact remains it's a working environment and the food is not very good. Pit lanes are exciting, but usually it's hot, loud, and the fun wears off after about 20 laps. Which is why I have been looking forward to the 84th running of the Indy 500 like no other race. I have accepted an invitation to watch the race from the suite of NorthernLight.com, as my fellow media types hunch over computers in a mood-driven barracks-type room. While staring across the track from above pit lane, comfortably sitting in front of a breakfast buffet with food fit for a king, it is abundantly clear that I made the right choice. We worry about race-day rain all week. The drivers refuse to talk about it. Anything out the ordinary on race day breaks their momentum. It gets to the point that when two of my hostesses, Fina and Michelle, attempt to give umbrellas to the teams, they try to refuse the portable shelters in a vain attempt to ward off the obvious. Sponsors exhibit worried looks when reminded of the pending forecast. With 50 expected guests winging to Indy from across the country a rain out is, well, like a birthday party boycotted by the celebrant. From the media's perspective it just makes for a long day with nothing to do. Of course it does rain, but from my point of view it gives me more time to enjoy the Life of Riley, as a VIP guest at the Indy 500. The day starts at 5 a.m. with heavy clouds. Getting to the media entrance of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway is difficult at best. Imagine 400,000 people converging on Cooper-Young simultaneously while hawkers line the roads selling everything from scalped tickets to turkey legs and you'll understand fully that one of the traditions of Indy is just getting there. My travel is made easier by the fact that VIP guests arrive with police escorts traveling down special barricaded lanes. The good life, indeed. 6:30 a.m.: Just as I walk into the media conference center for the mass I am greeted by members of my profession who are sharing war stories of the traffic jam circling the Speedway. I share with them my ride as a sponsor's guest. They're jealous; I'm glad. I stop by the media center to pick up the latest press releases before heading back to my new friends in the suite. Reporters are jockeying for position at the breakfast buffet. Funny, but when you don't know any better and you're hungry, glazed doughnuts and warm coffee become a treat. Sad, I say to myself as I head across the expansive Speedway grounds to be served a hot breakfast of sausage, omelet, hash browns, fresh fruit, and a dazzling array of pastries. Oh, and the coffee is hot. Yes, I know I'm bragging. The ray of hope when blue skies greet the race teams at the starting grid is dashed when raindrops turn into a heavy rain just 35 minutes before the scheduled green flag. The race is officially on hold. I decide to try my driving skill in the computerized Indy Car, which is only available to suite guests. I am told that my friends in the media center are busy comparing cell phones to see whose is lightest. For the first time in my career a rain delay is actually going to be fun. 12:45 p.m.: The rain has stopped; our hosts make an announcement that the Marine Corps Harrier Jets are about to do a fly-over so we casually grab a fruit plate and make our way to the roof to watch. The pilots are exciting as they fly at low altitude and then come to an airborne stop just over our position and perform a couple of spin maneuvers. We raise our glasses to salute them with a toast. Later, while sharing the excitement of the moment with my friends in the media center, I learn that they couldn't get a good look from their position. I feel sorry for those poor souls. Lunch magically appears when we return to our suite. The shrimp pasta, fresh steamed vegetables, grilled chicken and roast beef highlight the menu. I go back for more of the beef because to my taste buds it reminds me of prime rib and I have to remain factual. Included in the menu are all-beef hotdogs, I think it was to share in the tradition of racetrack food, which must be why the media center serves hotdogs, chips, and potato salad. A sign above the buffet line reminds them that only one hotdog per person is allowed. Three hours after the first raindrops the green flag falls on the 84th Indy 500. Though I remain in the suite, I am transformed from the world of "being special" to just being a reporter with a job to do. Juan Montoya wins and the race is history. Leaving the Speedway I begin to prepare for my next race, but to be truly honest, it'll be hard to walk into a media center and not forget my new friends in the hospitality suites. Which is why I stick a few cashews away in my briefcase. Pit-Pass Notepad So what do the drivers do during a rain delay? Well, during my garage tour at 40 minutes into the delay the rookie Sarah Fisher and the pole-sitter Greg Ray were napping. Eddie Cheever's crash two weeks ago, he said that before becoming a car owner he would see the wall looming and think, "this is going to hurt," now he thinks, "damn, this is going to cost me a lot of money." Montoya, approached the car of teammate Jimmy Vasser. Thinking Vasser was a lap down, Juan radioed his team owner, Chip Gannassi, asking him to tell Vasser to move over. The response was this, "Juan, Jimmy's leading," to which Montoya replied, "Oh, okay, I'll pass him on my own." Which, of course, he did.