Their tires have tracked water 10 feet in front of the box. It's slippery as Hell in front of the box. Standing under the lights at the front of the staging lanes, you can see the staging lane girl talking with the tower on her head set radio and she's looking at your lane. Small groups of chatting drivers see the look, cease talking, and begin to scatter in the darkness towards their cars. Anxious racers don helmets.
Crews start hustling and buttoning down hoods.
Tension starts building in the air, your heartbeat increases, and the adrenaline rush begins. Drivers and crew members in the adjacent lane slide closer to their cars, knowing they will be coming out after your bracket is finished. They are going to jerk someone, and set them aside for a possible bye since there is an odd number of cars in your staging lane. Somebody will get a free ride to the second round, an automatic win. If you are lucky, it'll be you, but don't count on it.