By Paula Malai Ali

Gosh I was a popular girl in September.     
I had friends from afar who wanted to come and stay with me at my humble abode in Singapore. I had friends asking me if I was free to go out and perhaps "show the sights'" of the Lion City to. Friends who wanted to know if I needed a companion should I have an event to attend. "Oh, any old event..."

And then the penny drops...

The Singapore Grand Prix.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, we're talking about the only place you’d want to be towards the end of September and I apparently seemed to suddenly have a lot of cache.

In the past month, the Lion City roared into life. Drivers descended upon the island accompanied by their WAGS. Important looking people decked out in team uniforms were hastily walking through Orchard Road and Marina Square as they met various people to satisfy sponsorship deals and whatever else it is that important people do. Watch shops had put up buntings proudly displaying Kimi's face with his watch casually in shot as he looks pensive. You know, the natural look.

Taxi drivers were bitching about what roads they could or could not use ‘because now they are very confuse [sic]’. My spare room was actually booked about five months ago. That was some serious planning by my advance house guest. As the date drew closer, we started to slowly cobble together a semblance of what our week would look like come the Singapore Grand Prix and the one thing we all wanted was to attend some cool, sexy, glitzy parties.

And this was when my stock rose. People assumed that I had invites to the events where all the cool kids were and believe you me, we wanted them too. But remember, for the most part we're there with a camera man and crew armed with a list of ‘must-have shots and interviews’. It can be glamorous but pretty hard work with some nights demanding more than one event to cover. We were certainly not swanning around in our Christian Louboutins sipping champagne and batting our eyelashes at Jenson. More like applying deodorant and changing clothes in the back of a taxi as we legged it from one part of the island to another. (I tell you those baby wipes ARE a godsend).

And I don't own a pair of Louboutins. Donations are most welcome.
But I digress.

The on-track excitement. Which brings me to phase (B) of my sudden popularity. Why is it assumed that free tickets are thrown at us left, right and centre? It's somewhat flattering, I suppose, that people think we are on the receiving end of all freebies but if we need tickets it's good old fashioned online booking. If I had free tickets I would be the first to brag about it.

At the end of the day all this just adds to the excitement of being in a host city of an F1 race. So, yeah, I couldn’t get all my friends into the exclusive events and plonk a whole bunch of them in grandstand seats, or suck up to clients and get those gold dust paddock passes, but I reveled in the energy and buzz.

F1 Rocks also made its debut at this year’s night race and we had an amazing line up of stars in Singapore with Beyonce, ZZ Top, Samantha Ronson, Backstreet's Back (alrrighhht...!) and a Damon Hill themed ball. And no, there was no Michael Schumacher, but we did get to see Fisi storming around in a Ferrari. And all the lusty boys were jostling for a chance to see Jenson's lovely lingerie model girlfriend mooching about ION or having cocktails at Mimolette. Heck, some of them may have even bumped into Lewis at Hugo Boss.

So I may be a bit of a lost cause when it comes to giving my buddies All Access Passes to the only night race on the calendar but I was certainly able to catch up for a virgin martini and ogle at the awesome skyline that lights up the island with them.