Steve Dilbeck: I AM NOT AN UGLY AMERICAN
My nose, I can feel my nose. The toes may take awhile longer, but progress is underway. The problem started with a tap on the shoulder. ``You have to go,’’ she said. ``I’m sorry we’re closing, you have to go.’’ I was in the main media hub up the mountain and it was midnight. Mentioned I’d been told the venue was open until 2 a.m., but the venue chief looked at me like I was a crazy American. My column was maybe half done; if I left, I wouldn’t be able to finish, let alone send the story. She came back, said I could stay and just let the security guys know when I was leaving. Seemed simple.
Ten minutes later, another tap on the shoulder. ``You have to go.’’ It was Bruno, the venue security chief with three assistants.
I did the only think I could: I pleaded. If I so much as rose out of my chair, I knew there would no column. Bruno and his buddies huddled, looked unhappy and finally decided I could have 20 minutes. Exactly 20 minutes later, I was standing in an empty parking lot waiting for a bus. There is a lot of waiting for buses at the Olympics, though Turin could be breaking records. My bus finally arrived and took me to where I had to catch another bus. Two other American scribes were waiting in the wee hours and tried to bribe my driver to take us to our hotel. Turns out the next bus headed in our direction wasn’t due for another hour and 45 minutes.
Did I mention it was freezing cold? We just stood there and waited me, my two new friends and all the icicles. The Winter Olympics. It’s a special thing.
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