February 11, 2006

Tonight I had a party to burn off all the extra food I had from Super Bowl Sunday in the guise of an "Olympics Opening Ceremonies" party. Partway through the four-hour opening ceremonies broadcast on NBC, I realized something.

I love the Olympics.

Love love love love love them.

You take thousands of the best athletes from around the world, smash them into a city, have them compete against each other for three weeks, and televise it all on five channels, two of which are in high definition, all of which I receive.

I've never been a competent athlete but I've always been an avid Olympics watcher. When I was young my brothers and I would take a six-foot-long bolster pillow and luge/bobsled down the stairs. (As far as I can remember, I never wiped out once!) The idea of rocketing down an icy slope or careening around a speed-skating track still appeals to me. On top of it all you get the joy of rooting for people you'll never meet or even see again as they compete for the glory of your country. I don't care that the U.S. is one of the larger forces in any Olympic games; I'll root for them just the same.

Competition starts in just under seven hours. The half of me that's Italian wants to get up and take it all in. The all of me that's addicted to television feels inclined to agree.