By Jeff Warren

So, how does one experience the Olympic Games, anyway? I had a feeling my Frommer’s Europe on $5 A Day might not be much help. Suffice it to say that for most it was not a discount vacation. Tickets went from $7 to $700 for opening ceremonies--though no one paid those prices. (Rumor had it that a Fortune 500 company paid 25 grand a pop—only to find out they were counterfeit).

We were guests of a friend who belonged to an international group of businessmen which prided itself on “doing it right.” They were pros. The Goobs and I were beneficiaries of their largesse and expertise. That meant great tickets, exciting restaurants, off site venues and little presents on our bed each night.

The JW Marriot was first class. The food was first rate. We had a gym and the foot massage was, well…..Hey, when in Beijing…

One doesn’t just “go” to the Olympics. It is all encompassing. One is visiting a country—-a city—-a foreign culture. The experience is a mix of athletes, locals, coaches, officials, celebrities, historic sites—-all tossed together under the rubric of “going to the Olympics.”

As we were under the umbrella of businessmen China wants to do business with, we got to do some things which others might not—-a cocktail party in the Rostrum at Tian’anmen Square (Where after the long march, on October 1, 1949, Mao proclaimed the founding of The Peoples’ Republic of China).

Dinner that night found us at the Legation Quarter—the former residence of the Dalai Lama. In 1971 Henry Kissinger met there (secretly) with Zhou Enlai to prepare for Nixon’s Ping Pong Diplomacy visit. You gotta love that stuff!

Having drawn the short straw, coach and NBC commentator, Bela Karolyi found himself across the table from us. Avuncular and enthusiastic he led a spirited discussion about gymnastics, Nadia Commenici and our team. Who knew age was an international scandal? He suggested we check out whether anyone still had baby teeth.

On the last night we had dinner in the Forbidden City—-the lighting and costuming was such that we could have been dining al fresco with Zhu Di, the third Emperor of the Ming Dynasty in 1420. (Yes, it’s worth it to rent the Last Emperor, just to see the architecture). And they built it in 14 years, less time than it'll take to build the 4th Caldecott Tunnel.

You don’t choose the events. They chose you. You get some choices—-but take what you can get. The American/China Basketball game was high on our list. We needed 10 tickets. We got five. I forget how we divided them, but I think the ladies had a great time at the Silk Market.

Monday morning found us at the “Cube,” the swimming venue. America was to race for in the 4x100 relay. A man from Texas, his daughter and wife sat across from us. Bill Gates sat behind them, and Mitt Romney and his wife were in front. Their presence added to the drama.

For shear athletic drama, I wasn’t in Memorial Stadium for the “Play”. I did see Sweeney catch the last pass on the last play of the last game, to beat Stanford, and I saw Reggie hit three out in the World Series at Yankee stadium). We’ve been to six Super Bowls, but never had I seen, in person, what we saw that morning. Jason Lezak came from a length and ½ behind to beat, Bernard, the French world record holder in the 100, in the most amazing athletic event we've witnessed up close and personal.

We were so close to them when they received their golds--they waved to us, personally.

At the Crew races, Cal’s new Coach, Mike Teti came out to talk with us in the stands. He gave us some interesting insights. The women eight ended up with the gold, though the men didn’t fare as well as hoped.

Between events, we went to the Wall (though the Goobs thought we were headed for the Great Mall of China), the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace and having been before, passed on the Temple of Heaven.

As you might imagine, each was a life changing experience.

The Goobs hit the pearl mart and the silk market. Word is the Chinese threw up their hands in surrender. (She bought a Louis Vuitton knock off: “A fake bag bought with fake money—the American Peso”—she boasted.

In a quaint tradition, total strangers come up to one another and exchange tiny Olympic sponsors’ pins. It’s a hoot.

There is no down time. The joke was that spectators have to be in better shape than athletes.

We saw beach volleyball and giggled at the bikini clad chicks who danced between points. Communism doesn8 0t have a chance. If Bob Haas’ Levis and Western Rock Music brought down the Berlin Wall, well, memo to President Hu: Between Bikinis and Cell phones, communism is dead. Get over it.

We had Pizza and beer one night at The Tree, an ex-patriot bar hidden off Sanlitun Bar St . The Authorities wouldn’t allow service after 9pm. Don’t want those Aussies and Brits getting too rowdy, you know.

Like all totalitarian states, the coin of the realm in China is hypocrisy. Brown skies are blue in the paper, slums are covered up by brightly colored bill boards. 13 year olds are the new 16. Demonstrations are “allowed” if you apply for a permit—but apply and you get jailed. Fireworks are computer enhanced for TV. The list goes on.

Still, the overriding mood on the street is one of fellowship, sportsmanship, and goodwill towards perfect strangers. Best of all. Everyone loves Americans.

In sum, the most important race at this track meet is the human one—-and it comes out a big winner—if even for only 17 days every four years.