Glamour continued...

Beijing-Life is tough for us small media outlets. As a contributing writer for SwimNews magazine (circulation 4000) I don't have a lot of pull. We have a website, which I think is read by a few dozen die-hard swim fans, but I was told that websites don't count when it comes to who gets priority here at the Water Cube. Although I have accreditation that gets me into the pool, every single swim accredited journo also needs a ticket for finals. I arrived too late to sign up for the first day and was almost out of luck. Canada only got 13 tickets from the IOC for 140 journos. After pleading my case, an extra ticket was found for me. Phew, crisis averted. Since then it's been no problem, which is good, otherwise I would have come all the way to Beijing to watch the swimming on TV in my hotel room.

There is also no free internet access anywhere. You'd think at the Olympic Games there would be, but no, it costs $500. I cannot function without internet access, nor can I do my job. How is one supposed to file her stories on the internet without access to said internet? So I took myself to the Rate Card Help Desk to fill out the required paperwork (in triplicate), then walked to the other end of the MPC to the Bank of China, pulled out my VISA, which is the only card accepted at the Olympic Games, paid a week's salary to the IOC, then marched back to the Rate Card Help Desk to pick up my internet code. I hope that the IOC members enjoy that steak dinner tonight with my hard earned money.

There are a lot of rules here. No hot drinks in the Press Tribunes, no food either. No entry from that entrance and no exit from this one. They do give us free coffee, which is nice and moon cakes, which taste a lot different than they smell. This is definitely a good thing because they smell disgusting. (Why I still tried it, shows the level of my hunger had surpassed rational thought.)

The media areas are divided up into several parts: the Press Tribunes where the press journos sit and the TV and radio people do their thing, the press conference room, the mixed zone and 2 work rooms. The mixed zone is the pit of the pool, where swimmers must walk a mile long gauntlet, often dodging questions being hurled at them by the info starved media. Swimmers must talk to the Broadcast rights holders first (those TV stations that paid the big bucks), then they hit the wire guys and flash quote people, before getting to the print media. By then they are tired, irritated, and usually need to go to warm down or pee in a cup. As a swimmer I understand their pain and personally I hate going down there. It's sad, but most of the newspaper articles you read are written by poor writers stuck in the mixed zone all day, never watching a single race live.

The 2 works zones have naturally divided themselves into areas for real journalists and the area for ex-swimmers who come together once every 4 years to report on swimming. I am of the later even though I do this more often than every 4 years. Upstairs, we prepare for the session, sharing tidbits on athletes and for some, placing bets. There are 4 guys, past Olympic greats from Brazil, Israel, Mexico, and Belgium who have been betting on races. One is up $80. The rest of us, from Britain, Australia, Italy and Canada are happy to talk the talk without walking the walk.

Okay, so you are starting to see that through my complaining, I'm having a blast. I get to hang out with a bunch of swimmers and talk swimming all day. On top of it, I get to watch the greatest breakthroughs our sport has ever seen and then write about it for swim junkies like myself.

I'm not going to lie, the nights are also pretty darn fun. Sleep deprivation is occurring, but it's worth it. Everything is a destination here: the first night it was the Budweiser House with free Bud (and fortunately Coronas), then there are the national houses; tonight I am hitting up Canada House, and of course the corporate sponsor parties. Last night Jenny T., Sean J., and I went from Oakley to Nike meeting up with all sorts of old friends. Elliot M., and Sean R., are having a blast so all is well at Hotel Dryden. The only sad thing is that this year there are no Sports Illustrated parties. Trust me, the one I went to in Athens was the best party of my life. I have a feeling the 'Bud House' will not quite reach that level.

So maybe I'm wrong, maybe my life is pretty glamorous. Sometimes it feels like that, sometimes, it doesn't, but in the end it's all part of the ride.