Athens Olympics
Anyone else find it ironic that Athens--Greek flavor--pushed so hard to get the 1996 centennial Olympics, which instead went to Atlanta, where some of the events were held in Athens. . . Georgia? No, just me? Screw you.
As some of you who know me have found out, mostly to your detriment, I’m exceedingly, disgustingly honest. However, it is extremely hard to keep such a high moral compass 24/7, 365, so some days you have to take yourself out of the lineup for a day, rest up those ethical muscles. Not that I would deliberately hurt anyone, of course, but a few minutes or hours of being selfish never killed anyone. . . well, it probably has, but stick with me, okay?
As usual for big events like the Olympics, hotel rooms are sold out months if not years in advance, and if there happens to be a room left over, or a cancellation, the price skyrockets like it was art from a painter who just died. In fact, there were people in Athens renting out crappy rooms for the price of a luxury suite in DC. My bosses in Germany, not wanting to deal with all this--the company usually makes my flight and hotel arrangements--decided they would simply give me a $700 per diem and let me sort it out for myself. I made the required stink about this, and they promised to reward me for it next trip. Of course this was all done by e-mail, so they could not see me grinning. . . Hmmm, why was I smiling? Because I had already arranged to stay with an old friend at his place in almost-downtown Athens. For free, though I did buy the family dinner every night; his wife would not thank me for the weight gain. So, $700 a day, for 3 weeks. . . Hey, they’re a huge corporation, they can afford it. Nobody got hurt. . .
And we’re back to my usual personality. . .
Do you remember how there was this huge hubbub because Athens wasn’t finishing up the stadiums in time? I don’t know how many of you got to see this during the opening ceremonies on TV, but right before it started, this workman came out to center stage, bent down, and pounded a nail to finish off the job. Then the festivities began. Gotta love a people who can laugh at themselves.
Two weeks of shooting sports tends to blur together. In world cups you at least get some days off between games, and the only time I work for even 3 days in a row is the Long Beach Grand Prix. I couldn’t even tell ya what I shot, since as soon as I finished with the rolls I handed them off to a developer in the press area, who e-mailed them to Germany. On the other hand, I can’t remember ever thinking “I hope I got that one, it’s gonna be an awesome photo!” so I don’t care that much.
Being completely bored of shooting sports two weeks in, and not seeing much of my UCLA friends who were competing, I told my bosses in Germany that I’d gotten a tip on the Venus de Milo’s arms and wanted to go dig for them. . . on Milos, obviously. The German words they said basically translated to “What-ever!” so I took off for the island and two days of doing nothing, which I’m really good at.
Refreshed, I came back to Athens and ran into another photographer who works for the same German syndicate, except he does men’s sports. He was bored too and wanted to get out of town, so I offered to give him my assignment to shoot the women’s soccer semi that Germany was playing in, in another town, not Athens. He jumped for it, so I got to stay and watch one of my best friends have an Olympic gold placed around her neck after the softball final. Excuse me, have to wipe away the tears. . . {want to know which one? Remember an earlier game with an amazing diving catch in center field? That's her. . .}
Speaking of tears, how many of you remember the little girl at the closing ceremonies? Here’s some tissue if you do; if you don’t, go get the tissue and then google or you tube it.
