The five month break was excruciating. Now I know how a junkie must feel while locked in rehab. Since the checkered flag fell on Michael Schumacher’s sixth world championship in Suzuka last October, it had left a vacuum in my life. My fortnightly habit of gluing myself to a TV with a crumpled can of beer in each hand cheering on the field had abruptly come to an end. After picking up the pieces, I had to face the sobering truth: is there life after F1? After a lot of soul searching, and a stable dose of Prozac, I have come to a conclusion: No, there’s not – it’s more of an existence.

March seemed to take forever to arrive. Just my luck it happened to be a leap year, too. I was attending the Australian Grand Prix as a guest of BMW Philippines in their hospitality suite. Chuck another shrimp on the Barbie, mate! Life doesn’t get a whole lot better than this!

First thing you notice once you hang the personalized VIP plastic ID around your neck is that people seem to follow you in much the same way as those that tailgate ambulances to get through the traffic quicker. And who can blame them – the views from a corporate grandstand are fabulous. So is the food. In my haste, once I cleared the last security check before making my way into the BMW hospitality suite, dressed like a CNN Baghdad reporter with camera and video gear swinging around my neck, I entered through the wrong door and ended up in the Ferrari VIP suites, which were situated right next door. Ever seen those old westerns where the new guy in town walks into the bar and everything stops? Just the doors are left swinging and the whole room glares up. Well, there I stood, dressed in full BMW Williams battle gear, facing an angry red-hot mob. I must have hit qualifying speed getting out of there.

In unity, however, there is strength – and the BMW Williams supporters cheer’s rumbled over the sounds of the V10s at full throttle. What was particularly touching, though, was that the cheers were just as lavishly hurled at the local hero, Mark Webber. It didn’t matter what flag you flew or what colors you were wearing, his support seemed to have transcended all barriers.

As the five red lights started to disappear, the tension had reached fever pitch. It was a Ferrari lock out up front, with Montoya breathing down Michael’s wing. The wait was finally over and the Foster’s Australian Grand Prix was underway. Not much changed up front, but Fernando Alonso executed a flawless and heart stopping pass on JPM with two wheels on the grass. All without launch control! Montoya went wide and overshot the first turn, costing him a possible podium. From that moment on, the entire field was left seeing red. Or at least the back of them.

From a spectator’s point of view, the race proper was pretty dull and uneventful. Asides from a testosterone battle between JPM and Button, everyone pretty much held their place or retired from engine failure. Ferrari finished in the order that they qualified and Fernando Alonso held on for a well-deserved third place. Ralf and Montoya chalked up some points with fourth and fifth respectively, while Button did good to take home sixth. The final two point scoring spots went to Trulli and then the embattled, David Coulthard.

Albert Park, as a circuit, is one of the favorites among the drivers. As a spectator, I feel it has an incredible energy and all the ambiance you would expect from a Grand Prix. I can almost confidently say that Melbourne is as good as it gets. It is also one of the cheaper ones to attend. People are very relaxed; the weather tethers on perfect and the girls are…well…liberal.

Also, because it is a public park, there is so much to see, hear and do in between the races. Speaking of races, there are a ton of different events to watch; and, if you ask most of the Aussie guys that have set up camp on the grassy hills, Formula One is only there as a support race for the Holden and Ford V8 supercars. The only downside to Albert Park is, unless you have access to corporate tickets, you don’t get to see a whole lot of the track – which is in stark contrast to Sepang’s layout. But having said that, even with my first corner seats at Sepang, I could barely follow the race anyway. At least Melbourne gives commentary over the loud speakers.

Nobody I know ever goes to a Grand Prix so that they can ‘follow’ the race. That was why they invented replays. They are in pursuit of a much higher purpose. They are there to celebrate the lifestyle, and their infatuation with one of the most prestigious and enigmatic events of this century. And to show their support. This has long been the argument among the die hards: should you stay at home and get every detail of the race beamed into your lounge room? Or do you sacrifice those details for the rich smell of the fuel, plus the screams of the most finely crafted race engines in the world of as they tear past you at 19,000RPM in harmony with the chorus from 130,000 fans who have flown in from every corner of the globe to pay homage to their heroes? I pondered this question while perched up on turns one and two, sipping an ice cold Fosters from a chilled glass all while watching the race unfold from the vantage point of a white linen skirted cocktail table at the BMW corporate suite and thought: “If you can’t have your cake and eat it too, then you’re obviously in the wrong party.” Cheers!