Well now. What do we have here? Buried in the chaos of yesterday stood an obscure cause for excitement. The Snake Pit is alive, apparently. Or at least not dead. More specifically, it’s healthy enough to start its own “official” Twitter account, and that’s good enough for me. This thing’s like Rasputin or AJ Foyt: neither stab wounds nor getting razed by bulldozers nor the furious Wrath of God can kill it.
Of course, I’ve never actually been in the Snake Pit. I’ve heard the tales, sure. I’ve heard the elders speak glowingly of its wonderous splendor & abject danger. And it pains me to have missed its glory years. Oh, to have seen this marvelous Beast in action!! Can you even imagine?! Because according to legend:
14% of the American population born between 1962 and 1984 was conceived in the Snake Pit.
The game of “Cornhole” was invented there — except instead of tossing beanbags through a hole, they threw heavily armed midgets. At cops.
In 1953, a relatively unknown Spiro Agnew partied there & got knifed by a chimpanzee.
The Snake Pit Coroner’s Office officially labeled any death caused by alcohol poisoning as an “Oopsie!”
The Lawn Jarts company got their idea after watching Snake Pit folk heave pieces catch-fencing & finely crafted spears – not for distance or accuracy mind you, but just for the simple pleasure of watching shiny things fly about.
Grifters & naked people were never shunned there, but rather revered.
The first known photograph of the Snake Pit depicts a spirited atmosphere full of revelry & merriment — as well as a disfigured bull, shattered swords, and mass casualties.
Wild horses lived & roamed freely there until 1986.
Crying in the Snake Pit was permitted under only during Jim Nabors’ divine singing. Or when you inevitably got maced.
Or so goes the legends I’ve heard. Perhaps you’ve heard others.
Regardless, step lively, Indy 500 fans. For the Beast lives! Maybe. Hopefully. Let us pray.
By Carrie, January 27, 2010 @ 12:58 pm
Sweet baby Jesus, let it be reopened for the race this year so I can experience it for myself! Not that I’d remember it the next day but still! *fingers crossed*
By BP, January 27, 2010 @ 1:46 pm
Good thing I have those molotov cocktails stored in the basement. And if they don’t run out during the Super Bowl, I’m sure they’ll come in handy in late May.
By Anon E. Mouse, January 27, 2010 @ 2:06 pm
That sure was a wacky and zany article. Good thing I was already wearing my laughing hat.
By Ryan Worden, January 27, 2010 @ 3:10 pm
You know, I was born about 9 months after the ’83 500, and my parents did use to attend the Snake Pit back in the day… it would certainly explain my love of racing/shiny things flying/midget tossing, and the random thrusting of my pelvis whenever I hear Poison.
By George Phillips (Oilpressure), January 27, 2010 @ 3:32 pm
Unfortunately, I’m old enough to remember the Snake Pit. The year was 1967. I was a wide-eyed nine year old. As I followed my parents back to our car in the infield after the race, we stumbled across the Snake Pit. It was the first time in my life that I ever saw anyone doing “it”. I carry those scars to this day. Bring it back!
By cappy, January 27, 2010 @ 4:00 pm
Back when I was there, a brown bear named Winston would play you a song on his fiddle for a quarter. We also did a lot of acid.
By Earnastine, January 27, 2010 @ 5:11 pm
Jack Arute was there along with the Goodyear Tire man; along with Manny, Moe and Jack were the midgets who would scream obscenities and throw moon-pies and snowcones at the “it” crowd. Where are they now?
By Brian, January 27, 2010 @ 8:47 pm
You kids have No idea. None.
The stories and old pics cannot do it justice. If they try to recreate it, take whatever comes back and raise it to about the fiftieth power.
God it was awesome.
By TMc, January 27, 2010 @ 11:59 pm
Can I get an amen??
By Earnastine, January 28, 2010 @ 8:55 am
Don’t forget the twenty one bull riders that broke away from rodeo to revolutionize bull riding and establish it as a stand alone sport…or was that B.S. riders?
By Jason Mcveigh, January 28, 2010 @ 2:22 pm
Where does The Snake pit rank on the Stortebeker-Ganassi scale?
By Coz, January 28, 2010 @ 3:38 pm
Two of my more memorable snake pit moments. Not that I can remember all of them, but several stand out.
Unfortunately, some of them I can’t remember whether they were at the 400 or the 500, but what’s the difference? Our first foray out of the infield and into a paid for seat was in the turn 4 infield seats, which are long gone. As was our custom, we would set up shop as close to the entrance of the women’s john as possible. We also would rent a scaffold and drive it down to Indy. We would usually have between 5-7 guys in the van, and all but two of us would bury ourselves under the stuff in back, and we’d only pay for two to get in as GA.
So one pre-race morning, I think it was an Indy, we got a fishing pole and tied a dildo to the end of the line, and I’d cast it out towards the entrance/exit of the women’s john, and reel it in. Most of the gals got a hoot out of it.
We also would make an effort to bring as little on the return trip as we could, and we would with forethought, malice, and sometimes Stormin’ Norman’s wife’s pleading to have something removed from their basement, never to return again; we brought furniture and mattresses. All combustible. So another year, after the race, it was nice and hot out. And there we were burning stuff, and I saw someone else had left a couch. It didn’t take me long to know what to do with the left over Bar-B-Que starter fluid. So I douched the couch, tossed a match on to it, and some drunk dirt bag decided to jump on to it and assume snooze position #4. We got some snap shots, and he got up and left. But it was a stitch while it was going on.
Well, there are a couple of the many memories of the Snake pit. There are a lot more, and some day, I’ll twine a few more tales. A New Snake Pit? Well, OK. Stormin’ Norman and I will probably take a tour thru it on the Yellow Flag nearest lap 100 to go smoke a J.(our tradition for many years in the stands, now, is to go out to the clump of trees on the golf course, where all the rest of the stoners are doing the same thing), but there is no longer a block house rest room, as it gave way to the F1 track, there is no way that they will be letting scaffolding go up, no blowing up over $500 (no kidding) worth of fireworks, no turning cars over and torching them (an old mid-eighties memory from turn 3), no torching furniture, hell, no torching anything. But in the end…
IT’S INDY, BABY!!!!
By Jules, January 30, 2010 @ 2:45 pm
“That sure was a wacky and zany article. Good thing I was already wearing my laughing hat.”
We could do without the comments below the Mendoza Line of dorkiness, Mouse.
By pitter, February 6, 2010 @ 6:46 am
Coz, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The “original” Snake Pit was in Turn 1. Then after some track renovations in the mid 80′s it moved to Turn 4.
As with George, I also got my first look at people doing “it” in the Snake Pit. In 1981 my Dad and I went to my first 500. Had seats in the long defunct First Turn bleachers which were right in front of the Snake Pit. While walking to our seats, there was a large crowd in a circle with cameras. In the middle of the circle was a blanket moving up and down. Someone pulled the blanket away, and hundreds of photos were taken of a very “busy” couple. Funny thing is, they never realized the blanket gone, or at least didn’t care.