Stu's email address is stumail@earthlink.net.

 

I've had a while to let it all soak in and I've pondered the best way to describe it. I asked myself, what was it like? What did it all mean? Hey, where'd I leave my mittens? What I came up with, and the beauty of it is, I think it meant many things to many people, no two stories exactly the same. Some experiences overlapping, while some completely unique. I'm talking about the Winter Olympics held in February 2002 in Salt Lake City. I had the good fortune to be able to realize a life-long dream and attend the first week of the Winter Olympics. Here's my story. My first lucid recollection of watching the Winter Olympics is of Jim McKay broadcasting from Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976. I remember watching the downhill skiers race down the mountain, barely hanging on and, of course, the figure skating events. My mom loved the figure skating. I remember watching the medals ceremonies, the national anthem of the United States being played and how emotional it was, even then as a teenage boy. Then, the 1980 Winter Olympics came to Lake Placid (with the Chuck Mangione theme music). There was Eric Heiden skating his way to four gold medals and unforgettably, possibly the greatest moment in Olmpic history, the miracle on ice and the Team U.S.A. defeating the Soviet Union in hockey. And, Al Michaels' now famous line, "Do you believe in miracles!?! Yes!" I told myself back then that one day I would attend the Winter Olympics. So seven years ago when it was announced that Salt Lake City would be hosting the XIX Olympic Winter Games, I said, "I'm going. I don't know how, but I'm going." Flash forward to December, 2001, just two months until the Olmpics. Having set this goal years ago, I have of course got tickets, lodging and transportation all lined up. Wrong. I have nothing. Well, unless you count my friend, Marty, a captain with the Bellevue Fire Dept. in Washington State, who also wants to go. This was truly the information super highway Olympics. The only way to get good, accurate, semi-clear information was to use the internet. If you tried having stuff mailed to you or calling 800 numbers, it was like riding Greyhound, you were going nowhere fast. And trying to figure out the logistics of how to attend the Olympics was like working on a Masters Degree. It required a lot of research and deciphering of often cryptic information. I learned that all lodging within a three-hour drive of Salt Lake was sold out. And, at price-gouging rates. Even Motel 6 was selling normally $30 rooms for more than $200 a night. Who do they think they are? Mackinac Island? Get outta here. Also, the tickets for all the good athletic events were long-ago sold out. Unless you want to spend $95 to see biathalon or curling. No thanks. Nothing against those sports, but we wanted to see downhill, moguls, ski jumping, skating, hockey, etc. So now unless I find out about a long-lost relative who lives there to stay with, we're not going. So that's what I did. Turns out I have a distant second cousin, once-removed, from my grandma's brother's side of the family, or something like this, who lives near Salt Lake. Fred is in his early 40's, gay, smokes and works for the IRS. He's right out of Central Casting and I mean this in a good way. I've only met Fred one other time in my life and it was years ago. But Fred, bless him, welcomes us to stay with him. This turns out to be one of the many good things come from this journey, as I get to know my cousin, who has a heart of gold, a wicked sense of humor and ants living in his small apartment. I drive to Salt Lake from Los Angeles and Marty flies in from Seattle. We are determined to go to the Opening Ceremony despite the fact that we have no tickets, which if you did have, have a face value of $885. And let me point out here, my car didn't cost that much. So we figure out how to take the free shuttle buses to the stadium, where the ceremony is being held. We get there in 20 minutes, despite predictions of gridlock, pandomonium and armageddon. There are thousands of people streaming off buses and toward the stadium, most of whom have their tickets and not wanting to make eye-contact with those without. The first thing we encounter, and I predicted this, was professional scalpers. Big guys, 200 lb, plus, obviously not from Utah and as out of place looking as a bumper sticker on Mackinac Island. They are buying up extra tickets, bidding against each other to create the illusion the seller is getting a good price. There's a small group of amateurs, like us, also trying to buy tickets. The professionals are buying tickets for $200-$400 and selling them for in many instances, more than $1,000 to desperate would-be spectators with large bank accounts the size of something really big and funny. We are out of our league. I've scalped cheap tickets before, but never to something this big, costly and potentially life-altering. Well, there was the Yanni concert, but that's another story. It's more than an hour later, the clock is ticking down and we have to do something different or the only thing we're going to see is about 10,000 National Guardsmen hopping around outside the stadium trying to stay warm. We've come to far for this. Extreme times call for extreme actions. Armed with my sign, "WANTED: TWO TICKETS," I move up and down the line waiting to pass through security. Nothing. One more pass. Something. A woman and her husband come up and they have two tickets for sale. They had passed up the pros hoping to get more than the pros were offering, but now they are beginning to panic a little because they are getting close to the security checkpoint to enter the stadium, they don't want to lose all their money and not sell the tickets and they are not even sure scalping tickets is legal in Utah (it is). Here's how the deal goes down: Me: "How much do you want for the tickets?" Woman: "The face value is $885 a piece." Suddenly, another would-be spectator comes out of nowhere. Other guy: "I'll give you $400 for the pair." Me: "Gulp." Woman: "We were hoping to get $500 for the pair." Me: (As though channeling Bill Gates) "$500, sold!" Me (again): In my head to myself, "Where the (explative) did that come from?" Then the other guys starts to get his money out. Me: "Hey, no way pal, I just bought these tickets!" Oh great, now I'm Dirty Harry. So I empty my wallet and I have four dollars left. That was close! Now I'm broke. I can't believe it. We have tickets, we're going in and I just spent three times as much as I had planned to spend. But that doesn't matter because we're going to the Opening Ceremony for the Winter Olympics and I have enough money left for one-half of a hot dog! (TO BE CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE) Stu Stuart is a stand-up comedian and performs all summer at the Lake View Hotel on Mackinac Island. He divides his time between the Upper Penninsula of Michigan and Los Angeles. The Excellent Winter Olympics Adventure By Stu Stuart I've had a while to let it all soak in and I've pondered the best way to describe it. I asked myself, what was it like? What did it all mean? Hey, where'd I leave my mittens? What I came up with, and the beauty of it is, I think it meant many things to many people, no two stories exactly the same. Some experiences overlapping, while some completely unique. I'm talking about the Winter Olympics held this past February in Salt Lake City. I had the good fortune to be able to realize a life-long dream and attend the first week of the Winter Olympics. Here's my story. My first lucid recollection of watching the Winter Olympics is of Jim McKay broadcasting from Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976. I remember watching the downhill skiers race down the mountain, barely hanging on and, of course, the figure skating events. My mom loved the figure skating. I remember watching the medals ceremonies, the national anthem of the United States being played and how emotional it was, even then as a teenage boy. Then, the 1980 Winter Olympics came to Lake Placid (with the Chuck Mangione theme music). There was Eric Heiden skating his way to four gold medals and unforgettably, possibly the greatest moment in Olmpic history, the miracle on ice and the Team U.S.A. defeating the Soviet Union in hockey. And, Al Michaels' now famous line, "Do you believe in miracles!?! Yes!" I told myself back then that one day I would attend the Winter Olympics. So seven years ago when it was announced that Salt Lake City would be hosting the XIX Olympic Winter Games, I said, "I'm going. I don't know how, but I'm going." Flash forward to December, 2001, just two months until the Olmpics. Having set this goal years ago, I have of course got tickets, lodging and transportation all lined up. Wrong. I have nothing. Well, unless you count my friend, Marty, a captain with the Bellevue Fire Dept. in Washington State, who also wants to go. This was truly the information super highway Olympics. The only way to get good, accurate, semi-clear information was to use the internet. If you tried having stuff mailed to you or calling 800 numbers, it was like riding Greyhound, you were going nowhere fast. And trying to figure out the logistics of how to attend the Olympics was like working on a Masters Degree. It required a lot of research and deciphering of often cryptic information. I learned that all lodging within a three-hour drive of Salt Lake was sold out. And, at price-gouging rates. Even Motel 6 was selling normally $30 rooms for more than $200 a night. Who do they think they are? Mackinac Island? Get outta here. Also, the tickets for all the good athletic events were long-ago sold out. Unless you want to spend $95 to see biathalon or curling. No thanks. Nothing against those sports, but we wanted to see downhill, moguls, ski jumping, skating, hockey, etc. So now unless I find out about a long-lost relative who lives there to stay with, we're not going. So that's what I did. Turns out I have a distant second cousin, once-removed, from my grandma's brother's side of the family, or something like this, who lives near Salt Lake. Fred is in his early 40's, gay, smokes and works for the IRS. He's right out of Central Casting and I mean this in a good way. I've only met Fred one other time in my life and it was years ago. But Fred, bless him, welcomes us to stay with him. This turns out to be one of the many good things come from this journey, as I get to know my cousin, who has a heart of gold, a wicked sense of humor and ants living in his small apartment. I drive to Salt Lake from Los Angeles and Marty flies in from Seattle. We are determined to go to the Opening Ceremony despite the fact that we have no tickets, which if you did have, have a face value of $885. And let me point out here, my car didn't cost that much. So we figure out how to take the free shuttle buses to the stadium, where the ceremony is being held. We get there in 20 minutes, despite predictions of gridlock, pandomonium and armageddon. There are thousands of people streaming off buses and toward the stadium, most of whom have their tickets and not wanting to make eye-contact with those without. The first thing we encounter, and I predicted this, was professional scalpers. Big guys, 200 lb, plus, obviously not from Utah and as out of place looking as a bumper sticker on Mackinac Island. They are buying up extra tickets, bidding against each other to create the illusion the seller is getting a good price. There's a small group of amateurs, like us, also trying to buy tickets. The professionals are buying tickets for $200-$400 and selling them for in many instances, more than $1,000 to desperate would-be spectators with large bank accounts the size of something really big and funny. We are out of our league. I've scalped cheap tickets before, but never to something this big, costly and potentially life-altering. Well, there was the Yanni concert, but that's another story. It's more than an hour later, the clock is ticking down and we have to do something different or the only thing we're going to see is about 10,000 National Guardsmen hopping around outside the stadium trying to stay warm. We've come to far for this. Extreme times call for extreme actions. Armed with my sign, "WANTED: TWO TICKETS," I move up and down the line waiting to pass through security. Nothing. One more pass. Something. A woman and her husband come up and they have two tickets for sale. They had passed up the pros hoping to get more than the pros were offering, but now they are beginning to panic a little because they are getting close to the security checkpoint to enter the stadium, they don't want to lose all their money and not sell the tickets and they are not even sure scalping tickets is legal in Utah (it is). Here's how the deal goes down: Me: "How much do you want for the tickets?" Woman: "The face value is $885 a piece." Suddenly, another would-be spectator comes out of nowhere. Other guy: "I'll give you $400 for the pair." Me: "Gulp." Woman: "We were hoping to get $500 for the pair." Me: (As though channeling Bill Gates) "$500, sold!" Me (again): In my head to myself, "Where the (explative) did that come from?" Then the other guys starts to get his money out. Me: "Hey, no way pal, I just bought these tickets!" Oh great, now I'm Dirty Harry. So I empty my wallet and I have four dollars left. That was close! Now I'm broke. I can't believe it. We have tickets, we're going in and I just spent three times as much as I had planned to spend. But that doesn't matter because we're going to the Opening Ceremony for the Winter Olympics and I have enough money left for one-half of a hot dog! (TO BE CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE) Stu Stuart is a stand-up comedian and performs all summer at the Lake View Hotel on Mackinac Island. He divides his time between the Upper Penninsula of Michigan and Los Angeles. The Excellent Winter Olympics Adventure By Stu Stuart I've had a while to let it all soak in and I've pondered the best way to describe it. I asked myself, what was it like? What did it all mean? Hey, where'd I leave my mittens? What I came up with, and the beauty of it is, I think it meant many things to many people, no two stories exactly the same. Some experiences overlapping, while some completely unique. I'm talking about the Winter Olympics held this past February in Salt Lake City. I had the good fortune to be able to realize a life-long dream and attend the first week of the Winter Olympics. Here's my story. My first lucid recollection of watching the Winter Olympics is of Jim McKay broadcasting from Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976. I remember watching the downhill skiers race down the mountain, barely hanging on and, of course, the figure skating events. My mom loved the figure skating. I remember watching the medals ceremonies, the national anthem of the United States being played and how emotional it was, even then as a teenage boy. Then, the 1980 Winter Olympics came to Lake Placid (with the Chuck Mangione theme music). There was Eric Heiden skating his way to four gold medals and unforgettably, possibly the greatest moment in Olmpic history, the miracle on ice and the Team U.S.A. defeating the Soviet Union in hockey. And, Al Michaels' now famous line, "Do you believe in miracles!?! Yes!" I told myself back then that one day I would attend the Winter Olympics. So seven years ago when it was announced that Salt Lake City would be hosting the XIX Olympic Winter Games, I said, "I'm going. I don't know how, but I'm going." Flash forward to December, 2001, just two months until the Olmpics. Having set this goal years ago, I have of course got tickets, lodging and transportation all lined up. Wrong. I have nothing. Well, unless you count my friend, Marty, a captain with the Bellevue Fire Dept. in Washington State, who also wants to go. This was truly the information super highway Olympics. The only way to get good, accurate, semi-clear information was to use the internet. If you tried having stuff mailed to you or calling 800 numbers, it was like riding Greyhound, you were going nowhere fast. And trying to figure out the logistics of how to attend the Olympics was like working on a Masters Degree. It required a lot of research and deciphering of often cryptic information. I learned that all lodging within a three-hour drive of Salt Lake was sold out. And, at price-gouging rates. Even Motel 6 was selling normally $30 rooms for more than $200 a night. Who do they think they are? Mackinac Island? Get outta here. Also, the tickets for all the good athletic events were long-ago sold out. Unless you want to spend $95 to see biathalon or curling. No thanks. Nothing against those sports, but we wanted to see downhill, moguls, ski jumping, skating, hockey, etc. So now unless I find out about a long-lost relative who lives there to stay with, we're not going. So that's what I did. Turns out I have a distant second cousin, once-removed, from my grandma's brother's side of the family, or something like this, who lives near Salt Lake. Fred is in his early 40's, gay, smokes and works for the IRS. He's right out of Central Casting and I mean this in a good way. I've only met Fred one other time in my life and it was years ago. But Fred, bless him, welcomes us to stay with him. This turns out to be one of the many good things come from this journey, as I get to know my cousin, who has a heart of gold, a wicked sense of humor and ants living in his small apartment. I drive to Salt Lake from Los Angeles and Marty flies in from Seattle. We are determined to go to the Opening Ceremony despite the fact that we have no tickets, which if you did have, have a face value of $885. And let me point out here, my car didn't cost that much. So we figure out how to take the free shuttle buses to the stadium, where the ceremony is being held. We get there in 20 minutes, despite predictions of gridlock, pandomonium and armageddon. There are thousands of people streaming off buses and toward the stadium, most of whom have their tickets and not wanting to make eye-contact with those without. The first thing we encounter, and I predicted this, was professional scalpers. Big guys, 200 lb, plus, obviously not from Utah and as out of place looking as a bumper sticker on Mackinac Island. They are buying up extra tickets, bidding against each other to create the illusion the seller is getting a good price. There's a small group of amateurs, like us, also trying to buy tickets. The professionals are buying tickets for $200-$400 and selling them for in many instances, more than $1,000 to desperate would-be spectators with large bank accounts the size of something really big and funny. We are out of our league. I've scalped cheap tickets before, but never to something this big, costly and potentially life-altering. Well, there was the Yanni concert, but that's another story. It's more than an hour later, the clock is ticking down and we have to do something different or the only thing we're going to see is about 10,000 National Guardsmen hopping around outside the stadium trying to stay warm. We've come to far for this. Extreme times call for extreme actions. Armed with my sign, "WANTED: TWO TICKETS," I move up and down the line waiting to pass through security. Nothing. One more pass. Something. A woman and her husband come up and they have two tickets for sale. They had passed up the pros hoping to get more than the pros were offering, but now they are beginning to panic a little because they are getting close to the security checkpoint to enter the stadium, they don't want to lose all their money and not sell the tickets and they are not even sure scalping tickets is legal in Utah (it is). Here's how the deal goes down: Me: "How much do you want for the tickets?" Woman: "The face value is $885 a piece." Suddenly, another would-be spectator comes out of nowhere. Other guy: "I'll give you $400 for the pair." Me: "Gulp." Woman: "We were hoping to get $500 for the pair." Me: (As though channeling Bill Gates) "$500, sold!" Me (again): In my head to myself, "Where the (explative) did that come from?" Then the other guys starts to get his money out. Me: "Hey, no way pal, I just bought these tickets!" Oh great, now I'm Dirty Harry. So I empty my wallet and I have four dollars left. That was close! Now I'm broke. I can't believe it. We have tickets, we're going in and I just spent three times as much as I had planned to spend. But that doesn't matter because we're going to the Opening Ceremony for the Winter Olympics and I have enough money left for one-half of a hot dog! (TO BE CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE) Stu Stuart is a stand-up comedian and performs all summer at the Lake View Hotel on Mackinac Island. He divides his time between the Upper Penninsula of Michigan and Los Angeles. The Excellent Winter Olympics Adventure By Stu Stuart I've had a while to let it all soak in and I've pondered the best way to describe it. I asked myself, what was it like? What did it all mean? Hey, where'd I leave my mittens? What I came up with, and the beauty of it is, I think it meant many things to many people, no two stories exactly the same. Some experiences overlapping, while some completely unique. I'm talking about the Winter Olympics held this past February in Salt Lake City. I had the good fortune to be able to realize a life-long dream and attend the first week of the Winter Olympics. Here's my story. My first lucid recollection of watching the Winter Olympics is of Jim McKay broadcasting from Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976. I remember watching the downhill skiers race down the mountain, barely hanging on and, of course, the figure skating events. My mom loved the figure skating. I remember watching the medals ceremonies, the national anthem of the United States being played and how emotional it was, even then as a teenage boy. Then, the 1980 Winter Olympics came to Lake Placid (with the Chuck Mangione theme music). There was Eric Heiden skating his way to four gold medals and unforgettably, possibly the greatest moment in Olmpic history, the miracle on ice and the Team U.S.A. defeating the Soviet Union in hockey. And, Al Michaels' now famous line, "Do you believe in miracles!?! Yes!" I told myself back then that one day I would attend the Winter Olympics. So seven years ago when it was announced that Salt Lake City would be hosting the XIX Olympic Winter Games, I said, "I'm going. I don't know how, but I'm going." Flash forward to December, 2001, just two months until the Olmpics. Having set this goal years ago, I have of course got tickets, lodging and transportation all lined up. Wrong. I have nothing. Well, unless you count my friend, Marty, a captain with the Bellevue Fire Dept. in Washington State, who also wants to go. This was truly the information super highway Olympics. The only way to get good, accurate, semi-clear information was to use the internet. If you tried having stuff mailed to you or calling 800 numbers, it was like riding Greyhound, you were going nowhere fast. And trying to figure out the logistics of how to attend the Olympics was like working on a Masters Degree. It required a lot of research and deciphering of often cryptic information. I learned that all lodging within a three-hour drive of Salt Lake was sold out. And, at price-gouging rates. Even Motel 6 was selling normally $30 rooms for more than $200 a night. Who do they think they are? Mackinac Island? Get outta here. Also, the tickets for all the good athletic events were long-ago sold out. Unless you want to spend $95 to see biathalon or curling. No thanks. Nothing against those sports, but we wanted to see downhill, moguls, ski jumping, skating, hockey, etc. So now unless I find out about a long-lost relative who lives there to stay with, we're not going. So that's what I did. Turns out I have a distant second cousin, once-removed, from my grandma's brother's side of the family, or something like this, who lives near Salt Lake. Fred is in his early 40's, gay, smokes and works for the IRS. He's right out of Central Casting and I mean this in a good way. I've only met Fred one other time in my life and it was years ago. But Fred, bless him, welcomes us to stay with him. This turns out to be one of the many good things come from this journey, as I get to know my cousin, who has a heart of gold, a wicked sense of humor and ants living in his small apartment. I drive to Salt Lake from Los Angeles and Marty flies in from Seattle. We are determined to go to the Opening Ceremony despite the fact that we have no tickets, which if you did have, have a face value of $885. And let me point out here, my car didn't cost that much. So we figure out how to take the free shuttle buses to the stadium, where the ceremony is being held. We get there in 20 minutes, despite predictions of gridlock, pandomonium and armageddon. There are thousands of people streaming off buses and toward the stadium, most of whom have their tickets and not wanting to make eye-contact with those without. The first thing we encounter, and I predicted this, was professional scalpers. Big guys, 200 lb, plus, obviously not from Utah and as out of place looking as a bumper sticker on Mackinac Island. They are buying up extra tickets, bidding against each other to create the illusion the seller is getting a good price. There's a small group of amateurs, like us, also trying to buy tickets. The professionals are buying tickets for $200-$400 and selling them for in many instances, more than $1,000 to desperate would-be spectators with large bank accounts the size of something really big and funny. We are out of our league. I've scalped cheap tickets before, but never to something this big, costly and potentially life-altering. Well, there was the Yanni concert, but that's another story. It's more than an hour later, the clock is ticking down and we have to do something different or the only thing we're going to see is about 10,000 National Guardsmen hopping around outside the stadium trying to stay warm. We've come to far for this. Extreme times call for extreme actions. Armed with my sign, "WANTED: TWO TICKETS," I move up and down the line waiting to pass through security. Nothing. One more pass. Something. A woman and her husband come up and they have two tickets for sale. They had passed up the pros hoping to get more than the pros were offering, but now they are beginning to panic a little because they are getting close to the security checkpoint to enter the stadium, they don't want to lose all their money and not sell the tickets and they are not even sure scalping tickets is legal in Utah (it is). Here's how the deal goes down: Me: "How much do you want for the tickets?" Woman: "The face value is $885 a piece." Suddenly, another would-be spectator comes out of nowhere. Other guy: "I'll give you $400 for the pair." Me: "Gulp." Woman: "We were hoping to get $500 for the pair." Me: (As though channeling Bill Gates) "$500, sold!" Me (again): In my head to myself, "Where the (explative) did that come from?" Then the other guys starts to get his money out. Me: "Hey, no way pal, I just bought these tickets!" Oh great, now I'm Dirty Harry. So I empty my wallet and I have four dollars left. That was close! Now I'm broke. I can't believe it. We have tickets, we're going in and I just spent three times as much as I had planned to spend. But that doesn't matter because we're going to the Opening Ceremony for the Winter Olympics and I have enough money left for one-half of a hot dog! (TO BE CONTINUED, SEE "LIGHT THE FIRE WITHIN")