As we settled into our sleeper cabin on Amtrak 48 from Chicago back home late in the evening of Christmas Eve, my wife looked at me and said “welp, you know what this means? You’re going to Daytona”.

Me... and the toilet next to my seat in our sleeper cabin

When we departed the Greater Rochester International Airport twelve-hours earlier, we thought we were enroute to the Florida panhandle -albeit on a slight delay- for a vacation with family that we had been really looking forward to. We landed at O’Hare to find out that our connecting flight to Pensacola which was delayed by 3hrs as of pushing off from Roc was not only magically no longer delayed, but also already in the air. The perfect storm [almost literally] of a thick morning fog in combination with a busy Christmas Eve travel day resulted in us being marooned at Chicago O’Hare with all flights booked solid for the next two days. We found out only after leaving the terminal that every rental car agency in the airport and surrounding area was completely sold out of cars, so we headed downtown to board an overnight train back to Western New York. Weary from a full day of being bounced around standby lists and negotiating with customer service (both in person and on the phone), we cut our losses, abandoned the vacation, and were instead, heading home. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, we sank into the seats of the sleeper cabin after boarding and stowing our luggage, and in privacy for the first time in twelve hours, we allowed ourselves to let our guards down, turn our thinking brains off, and deal with the emotions we were blocking all day.

My day job has never really allowed me to attend the Rolex 24 in previous years due to project scheduling conflicts. Where 2020 was looking promising for a lack of conflicts, assuming I would have been on a Florida vacation less than a month prior, I was having a hard time justifying a second trip. So the silver lining of a botched Christmas vacation was this now-open loophole; initiated by the best wife ever, nonetheless. I got a stupid grin on my face. “Really? No, I… I can’t - it’s not practical . . . really? You wouldn’t mind?”. The next several days that were “supposed” to be spent with family and on the beach were instead spent researching logistics, flights, places to stay, etc. and I was booked on December 30th 2019. I was finally fulfilling a childhood dream. I was Daytona bound.

When I arrived -again- at the Greater Rochester International Airport on Thursday January 23rd, I’m not going to lie, there was a bit of anxiety. My day job has me traveling for work quite often {portions of this are being typed at Boston-Logan}, so under normal circumstances, I’m by no means an anxious traveler…. But these weren’t normal circumstances. I had spent the last 20-some days hyper-planning this trip; doing research on the Daytona Beach area, the track, other photographer’s work and advice for shooting the race, the weather, etc. Hell, I had a spreadsheet with the track schedule morphed into my travel itinerary and what I would be doing when I wasn’t at the track down to the nearest minute. I agonized over the cost of taking even more time off of work to fly in Wednesday night thus requiring an extra night at the Airbnb verse flying in Thursday morning but missing the first half of track activity that day. AND on top of all of that, there was the looming fact that this trip was only happening because I had the worst travel experience of my life less than a month prior. Luckily, once it was time to depart, the travel and racing gods must have been smiling down upon me because conversely from that last trip, my flights were about as smooth as they could be. I landed in Newark with an hour and a half before my connecting to Orlando, just enough time to have a good breakfast that may or may not have included a beer (because I’m on vacation, damnit!), and we were in the air again. Right on schedule.

When we touched down in Orlando, there was a bit of a drizzle, but I thought to myself “even if it’s doing this at the track, this isn’t bad”. Eagerly weaving my way though the sea of Mickey Mouse hats, I picked up my suitcase amidst a barrage of golf bags, and made my way to pick up the rental car, plugged “Daytona International Speedway” into Google Maps, was told I was only 58min away from arriving at the place I’ve only dreamed of being at since I was a kid. As I neared exit 192 of I-4, the DIS grandstands started to peak out from over the horizon, it was at that point it became real; not just any other business trip I've been on across this country. As I drove down West International Speedway Blvd -for the first time in real life and not via Google Street View- I was admittedly giddy. I parked my car in Lot 4 and emerged from the T4 tunnel about 10min before the GTD Qualifying session began. My first impression as I found my way to a trackside viewing point was “holy shit, this place is big” – the grandeur is not connived over television. As I was moving around the track in between the GTLM and Prototype sessions, I blindly ran into a friend from IMSA Fans and that may have been the most bazar thing of the day for me: I was at this massive racetrack and within the first 45mins, I run into someone I know without even trying. I spent the rest of Thursday mostly just taking everything in and familiarizing myself with shooting racecars at night – something I’ve never done. Friday morning I got up early, had a hearty southern breakfast of shrimp and grits from the Metro Diner (that I did not realize was a DDD stop - bonus!), drove over to Target to acquire my step ladder, then it was onto a full day of shooting.

I love to travel simply for the sake of exploring new areas of this world. Thus I was conflicted about being in Daytona Beach but not really having the time to explore the area because of the packed schedule at the track. I set my alarm Saturday morning for around 8:30am allowing myself to sleep in knowing I wouldn’t sleep for the next 30-some hours but still make sure I was at the track in time for the festivities. Of course, I was awake not much after my normal 6:00am, but wasn’t remotely upset about this – it gave me the opportunity to walk a block from my Airbnb to the beach and enjoy the sunrise. I arrived just in time and considered myself lucky with how beautiful it was over the Atlantic… little did I know what was in store for me 23 hours later.

I arrived at the track, but not before picking up a dozen Krispy Kream doughnuts – fuel for the next 24 hours, and a delicacy since they've been striped out of upstate NY. The prerace festivities were a little more than I expected compared to what I was used to with Northeastern races, but nonetheless amusing. Once the cars were gridded and I attempted to get what photos I could between crowds, then headed towards the banking. The entire experience was nothing less than awesome: if 8-year-old me knew he would one day be standing in the trioval or on the banked start-finish line of Daytona International Speedway at any point in his life, he probably would have wet himself with excitement. After meeting up with some IMSA Fans friends, we headed up to our perch for the start high in the shadows of the 200’s near T1. Admittedly, photos where one of my least concerns for the start – I just wanted to take it in. After about an hour, we all dispersed and I made my way up to the last row of the west-most sections of the 400’s and sat for another 2hrs. It was so bazaar to me to be at a 3½ mile track, yet able to follow a single car around the entire circuit.

Around hour three I made my way back through the T4 tunnel and started shooting for the evening. I’ve never shot a race in anything but full daylight, so the opportunity to shoot different conditions was a challenge I was more than looking forward to. My only complaint is that you only get one sunset and one sunrise per race, so location is key, and this was my first time at this track, so my best guess was all I had to work with. Once night fell, I was equally as eager to shoot in the dark; my only previous time being FP3 that past Thursday. Having studied many notable photographers' photos prior, I knew what I was trying to achieve, and set too it over the next 8hrs. After meeting up with some friends around 9ish, I then headed back towards the grandstands to watch/capture the fireworks and just hang out for a while. One very common thing that was repeated to me when asking others about the race prior was to sit in the grandstands at night – I cannot stress how relaxing yet awesome that was. I sat from around 10:30pm to 1:30am, and even at that point, my biggest motivation was that it was getting a little too cold to just sit around, even with two thermal layers, a t-shirt, and hoodie.

I was initially giving myself until 2am as a target to stay awake until – when it rolled around, I thought “I’m feeling pretty great!”, but then started to deteriorate. Around 3am, I made the trek from Lake Lloyd back through the T4 tunnel, and settled into the passenger seat of my Impala rental car. I set the alarm on my phone for 5am and took a little catnap whilst my phone, camera batteries, and computer charged. Admittedly, when the alarm went off, I hit snooze for a half hour…. But then it was up-and-at'em. I ate a few doughnuts, grabbed an energy drink and bottle of water from the cooler, and was on my way to shoot the sunrise.

As the first hints of twilight started to grace the horizon, I marveled at the texture in the clouds. This texture was only amplified over the next half hour as the sun rose and I simply could not believe the colors flowing in through my viewfinder. Later I would hear from a few pros that this was the most amazing sunrise they’ve seen in the last ten years – the problem there is because it was the first I ever encountered at DIS, I’m now expecting it again next time. I spent the remainder of the morning collecting some final shots from the infield and playing around with slow shutter speeds on what I was expecting to be “throwaway photos” just for fun, then around noon, made my way back to the car to unload my overnight clothes and head to the grandstands, where I would watch the remaining two hours. With a slightly over an hour to go, the fact that I had been awake for 30 of the last 32hours was starting to set in and I found myself nodding off. To combat this, I got with 45mins remaining in the race and walked through the concourse of the grandstands; the combination of the shade, nature of the structure acting as a wind tunnel, and movement was enough to get me too the end. Once the checkers waved, I made my way back to the paddock to watch the post-race teardown and just take in the race for one last time. After saying goodbye to friends, I walked out of the T4 tunnel and headed back towards the Airbnb.

Monday morning, the alarm went off shortly after 5:00am and I bid farewell to Daytona Beach shortly thereafter as I began the 6hr trek up to western panhandle to meet up with my wife and her family. We flew out on a cold, rainy Wednesday afternoon, but I certainly could not complain - aside from the drizzle when I landed in Orlando a week prior, that was the only day with remotely foul weather. As I dropped the Impala off and handed the keys back to Hertz, there was a little bit of sadness - I had never slept in a car before, so I felt like I had shared something special with that automobile. Flights home were seamless.

Between walking around the International Horseshoe for the first time Thursday night and seeing the glow of brake rotors, to standing on the banking for the first time after the MPC grid walk, to sitting in the last row of the grandstands after the start of the race, to riding the Ferris Wheel Sunday morning, I was constantly reminding myself of where I actually was and that “This. Is. Actually. Happening.”! The entire weekend was surreal. I always viewed going to the Rolex 24 as a “don’t meet your heroes” sort of thing, but now I’m not entirely sure why. It’s funny how stuff works out: If not for a botched Christmas vacation, this trip would not have happened. Moreover, I am well aware that I lucked out with having my first time be under such perfect conditions, and that only adds to the “everything happens for a reason”-ness of this.

As I laid in bed Sunday evening after the race sorting through photos, wondering how I was still awake… I was not being able to wait to get back. I was 5 miles from the track, had spent 36 of the previous 38 hours awake, 24 of those with a race going on, and I still wanted more. I’ll be back, Daytona. I’m sorry it took me so long to get there and that had everything gone according to plan a month prior, I wouldn’t have even been there this year… but trust me, I’m going to make up for that. . . . .

Daytona 2020