Flashes of Panic

Starting tomorrow morning, I’ll be spending many of my waking hours in what may be one of my best seats yet for a major meet. It’s unlikely that you’ll see me on television, because most angles shoot from outside the track, where I am, towards the infield, but if you see a wide shot of the stadium you’ll notice banks of grey desks near the finish line. That’s the press section.

My seat is about even with the last row of hurdles on the homestretch, five rows back from the track. I’m here now; the stadium seating is largely empty, but the infield is crawling with people prepping the venue for the start of competition, now less than 24 hours away.

Although there is some interest in other events (the daily question: “How many is Phelps up to now?”) there’s a general attitude of “Let’s really get the Games underway” among my colleagues.

The torch is quite loud in the otherwise quiet stadium (this may be why they’re frequently blasting Chinese pop music, which is sweet almost beyond tolerating for Westerners). Occasional groups of people go to the infield and take pictures on the medal stand.