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Olympic Ecstasy
By Patrick M
“Wake up, Patrick, wake
up,” my dad said as he shook me gently.
My eyes creaked open as I said “What?”
My dad replied, “Get up and get
ready.” As he said those words my eyes shot open, I leapt out of my bed
towards my dresser and got ready. All in that moment, I remembered
where we were going.
I quickly got dressed into
my snow clothes. All of my snow clothes were blue save that the gloves
were black. I stood there and somebody may have mistaken me for a sumo
wrestler. I had a very hard time walking up the stairs. The beige
carpet felt soft beneath my feet as I slowly climbed up the stairs. As
hard as it was, walking up the stairs, it was even more difficult
putting on my shoes.
I quickly awoke my mother and said to
her, “Goodbye, Mom”
She replied, “Bye, I love you”
I quickly answered, “Love you too.”
Then, I turned and slowly walked out of the room to the car. My dad
talked to my mother and turned to follow me to the car. I quickly
opened to door and hopped in.
The inside of the car was
cozy beige. The leather felt soft beneath me. As I buckled my
seatbelt, my dad was turning on the car. I heard the motor turn on and
the headlights sent out a faint beam of light revealing the driveway and
street ahead. All else beyond appeared to be a dark abyss. The car
started to move slowly, and we then headed toward Salt Lake City. Very
few cars were out on the road. My dad and I silently listened to the
radio as mile after mile flew by. Finally, after an hour of intense
anticipation, we were there.
Blue, yellow, and orange pillars rose
in distinct difference to the security gates. The pillars were placed
throughout the slush-covered parking lot, large obelisks standing
guard. We trudged through the empty parking lot toward the security
gates. Security gates are never that ornate and these were no
exceptions. They were one story tall, and a shabby yellow. We went
through them without incident. Beyond the gates was a line of Greyhound
Charter buses four blocks long. The line was beyond an orange fence
just as long as the line itself. The buses were white and blue with the
company’s insignia, a distinct large greyhound placed in the center of
the bus. My father and I were then placed into a line to put us on a
bus. After about ten minutes that felt like hours, we were allowed on
the bus.
After the bus was full, we steadily
headed up into the mountain. The panorama was magnificent. The
mountain foothills surrounded us with heavy snow and pine trees. The
pines smelled crisp in the morning air. A faint shimmer of light
reached over the mountain as the bus climbed ever higher. Later dawn’s
pink fingers reached through the sky as we moved higher and higher into
the mountain. Then when the venue came into view, at first I was
annoyed. The venue broke the balance of nature. Suddenly, I remembered
what we were there for. A sign loomed up from the distance. It read
“Salt Lake City 2002 Winter Olympics”
My mind was racing as the calm of the
ride broke away. My dad looked over at me and said, “Calm down,
Patrick.”
I replied, “I can’t, but let’s go.”
So with that we left the bus and trampled toward the venue, and the snow
crunched under our boots leaving holes where we stepped. The whole
venue was filled with shops of pins and clothing. Paths were cleared
away making travel between shops easier. My dad and I looked some of
the shops but never bought anything. Instead we headed to the stands.
The bleachers rose high
above any other building. The view from the bleachers was amazing. It
looked over the bluff in which the skiers would come skiing over. The
sides of this bluff were lined with the same orange fence that had
restricted us from the bus lane. The snow covered the hill, gleaming
from the sun’s steady glare. Though our tickets did not permit us to
sit in the bleachers, we were allowed to stand next to the gate, closer
to the bluff than even the front row of bleachers. As we took our
places I found it was hard to see over the adults in front of me. I
figured my dad would not be able to pick me up so I looked around my
area. I eyed a large cluster of snow near me. I decided to try and
stand on it. It was difficult getting to the top, both because the snow
crumbled under my feet and I had more clothes on then a whale has
blubber. Once I made it however, I was able to see the ski slope and
television screen featuring the skiers names and nationalities, many of
which I had never even heard of. A half an hour passed and then
finally, the event started.
The announcer proclaimed
the name of the skier, the nationality, and then the red, yellow, and
green lights went off. When the green light, flashed the gate
restraining the skier opened, and the skier hurtled down the slope. He
went at speeds that could match a car on the freeway. As the skier came
over the hill, I could hardly see the colors of his suit as they were
blurred from his speed. As he came into the opening that was the end of
the run he quickly skidded to a halt. He sent a cloud of snow into
the air as tall as the bleachers, making his figure hardly discernable
through the dense snow. Eventually, however, the snow faded away
leaving the skier in the center of the arena, watched by every person in
the crowd he slowly headed to a door in the gate where he would be able
to take off his skis. This process repeated itself many times.
Sometimes the skiers crashed which brought a delay in the schedule, but
my dad took advantage of those delays to buy us much needed hot
chocolate. The temperature reached as low as 20 degrees. The chocolate
tasted rich and creamy, and the smell made my knees bend. It felt hot,
on my tongue, nearly burning it many times. Throughout the day as many
as four or five skiers crashed, allowing us to get hot chocolate. At
around 5:00 the event ended. Austria won the gold and bronze and Norway
won the silver.
After the event we went to
the medal ceremony for the day, and the ceremony held a concert of many
songs and bands, with the likes of La Bamba, Stop, In the Name of Love,
and the host Steve Young. After the concert and group games the
audience played, the ceremony began. Kelly Clark was the first American
to win a gold medal in the Olympics, and we sang the national anthem.
This event was one I will never forget. An event like this can teach
many morals that are out there I just had to reach out and grab them.
This taught me that if I work hard enough I can achieve anything, just
like those skiers that spent years working on their sport. I learned
that if I have the heart to do something, I can achieve it with hard
work and determination.
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