Grapevine: Paddock Life - Monza Edition

Most of it goes unnoticed by casual visitors, although you don't have to stay back in the paddock too long after the conclusion of the race to marvel at just how quickly a bunch of guys can reduce a three-story motorhome to its component parts.

But these same organisational ballets play themselves out time and time again in microcosm throughout the weekend, right down to the most mundane of functions. Like journalists getting themselves to and from the track.

This can be more complicated than you might think, as for every journalist that has forked out for a rental car, there are invariably another four who have decided to rely on the charitable nature of their colleagues instead. Or, a large publication could have a couple of cars to cover a few colleagues, who might stagger their departures from the track if some need to stick around longer than the others.

Over time, the patterns form - small groups drift into the habit of travelling together day after day, race after race, and it all turns into an efficient little system. Except when it breaks down.

This happened rather dramatically at Monza on Friday night. A senior autosport.com staffer - who long-time readers may remember as la redattrice - was making her first visit to a Grand Prix in two years. She had access to the paddock but not the media centre, so most of the day passed without her colleagues seeing her.

Unfortunately, a good part of the evening also passed without her colleagues seeing her. The day finished, heads full of spy scandals, writs, and GPDA responses to track improvements, the journos that attended the races regularly had switched to autopilot, formed their usual carpooling groups, and headed back to the hotel.

It was some time later, well after nightfall, that the mobiles started to ring. It was la redattrice. She was still in the paddock - by now, the only person in the paddock. And in situations like that, the news that her chauffeurs were in the bar accompanied by large glasses of Peroni somewhat tested the limits of her sense of humour.

Two journos set off intrepidly to retrieve her; one to drive the car and one to absorb the wrath. Luckily it was not a long trip between the hotel and the track, and despite somehow missing a vital side road in the unfamiliar darkness, the rescuers made fairly good time back to Monza.

Getting through the first set of gates was not a problem, but as the little Opel steamed heroically through the dark forest its progress was cut short by the fact that the next set of gates was locked. A setback, to be sure, but not a major one. The pair turned around, and returned to the first gates to discover that they had now been locked too.

This should still have been no more than a minor irritant. There were several extravagantly-uniformed guards slouching around about 20 metres away, surely they could open the gates again. Unfortunately, they had taken the art of nonchalance to a level that was impressive even by Italian standards, and several minutes of beeping, flashing lights, shouting in English, shouting in broken Italian, and then shouting in broken English failed to attract even a glance.

Time to give the other gate another try. This was more promising in that the guards were only a couple of metres away, so they eventually were forced to acknowledge that their attention was needed. Yes, they had a key to the gate. No, they would not open it. No. It is impossible to leave the park until 8am the following morning, unless you walk.

And, when the questions became too tiresome, they added another answer to their repertoire: Sorry, I don't speak English. After 20 minutes of this, the journalist in the drivers' seat had already switched to his reserve tanks of goodwill, and this was also rapidly running dry.

Faced with what was looking increasingly like a night spent in the park - and with la redattrice still stranded even deeper inside the track - he made a final impassioned plea.

The most senior of the guards sauntered over, offered a grin and said 'You know grande birra? Tomorrow, you will bring me two. '"How about I bring you a cap signed by Kimi Raikkonen and Felipe Massa?" responded our man.

It did the trick. The gates opened. La redattrice was finally rescued a few moments later, and upon hearing of the ordeal was satisfied that karmic retribution had been served upon those who had earlier abandoned her. The guard is still waiting for his cap.

Celebrities are a dime a dozen at Grands Prix, but at Monza it was nice to see one actually doing some work. Amongst the media contingent in Italy was Ken Hensley, formerly keyboard player with 1970's metal band Uriah Heep. Hensley, who dabbled in racing himself back in the day, interviewed Niki Lauda for a German outlet, amongst other duties.

Even some of the other VIPs in the paddock were impressed when legendary Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger was seen wandering around during the weekend.

Wenger spent some time in discussion with Flavio Briatore, who of course has recently made his own foray into English football with the deal that he made in conjunction with Bernie Ecclestone to purchase the struggling Queens Park Rangers. So what were they talking about? A deal to bring Cesc Fabregas to QPR? Or perhaps Fernando Alonso to leave third-division Swiss club Prangins FC for a new life at Emirates Stadium? If it comes to pass, remember where you read it first.

Advertisers figured out long ago that getting someone famous to endorse a product can make a big impact on a product's reputation. But it's even better when they do it off their own bat - which it was rather gratifying to hear Lewis Hamilton talking to the press last week.

The championship leader was asked about whether anything was being done to ensure that the stories circulating about McLaren's current predicament did not become a distraction, and his answer was somewhat unexpected. He hadn't seen the stories, he explained, because the internet at his house had been down and, in his own words, he hadn't been able to check out autosport.com!

Formula One lost a devoted fan when tenor Luciano Pavarotti passed away late last week. Questions over whether the Italian's passing would be marked at Monza were answered with a simple but touching tribute - his signature rendition of Puccini's 'Nessun Dorma' was played over the circuit PA system during the drivers' parade prior to the race on Sunday, and the famous final notes were greeted with a rapturous response from the grandstands.

Even some of the hardened souls in the press room admitted to feeling a few chills up their spine. "I'm a heavy metal fan through and through," said one. "And even I listened to this guy."

This year's buzz phrase of the F1 season may be 'spy scandal', but a season or two ago the thing that everyone was talking about was cost containment. The issue may have gone a bit quiet of late, but work is still being done behind the scenes.

Autosport.com was pleased to spot what appeared to be one of the FIA's newest initiatives at Monza last weekend. A few corners have clearly been cut, but it's nice to see that it's still a Mercedes.

The hard-working FIA medical staff don't deserve anything less.