Poor Mikey

"My goal is one Olympic gold medal. Not many people in this world can say, 'I'm an Olympic gold medalist.'" Michael Phelps

I feel bad for Michael Phelps.

I mean I'm not losing sleep over it, or anything. There are definitely people in this world I am more worried about.

But, at the same time, I do feel bad for him. I've felt this way most of the summer, as the United States has prepared for Beijing. However, last night, it reached an all-time high.

As I was watching the women's volleyball, I noticed a smiling face pop up in the corner of my TV. Below Phelps' grin, it read, "Countdown to Phelps: 30 minutes".

A bit later, NBC switched to men's gymnastics. Although the U.S. men's team was doing exceptionally well, exceeding all expectations, the focus was elsewhere. Again, the corner of the TV told me: "Countdown to Phelps: 9 minutes".

It seems that no matter what, the nation's focus is on one thing: Phelps winning eight gold medals. Even the standard competition schedule for swimming was changed to the morning, just so Phelps would be on prime time. And although he has never mentioned the idea of winning eight golds, the idea seems to have stuck (to say the least).

The reason I feel so bad for him, though, is that the whole world is watching, waiting to see if he'll win eight golds. If he only wins seven, does that mean he's a failure?

Most medal winners would kill for seven golds.
Most Olympians would kill for one gold- or even a silver or bronze.
Most athletes would kill to go to the Olympics...

...and yet, if Phelps doesn't win eight golds, he's failed us. If he wins seven golds and one silver, he didn't accomplish his(/our) goal. Even if he breaks his own personal record when winning the silver, he doesn't get the million dollar bonus Speedo has promised him.

Granted, he'd still receive $190,000 in bonuses for seven golds and one silver, but that seems like pocket change compared to a mill (he couldn't even take a trip to the moon with that amount of money. Please.)

I realize that the fame, endorsements and excitement surrounding what he is doing is probably well worth the pressure of winning eight golds, especially for someone so capable of doing so. I just want Michael to know that even if he only ends up winning the golds he currently has, I'd still be impressed. I'd love to tell him this myself, but he's been hard to reach lately. He must be busy.

plane crazy

There is no doubt in my mind that the services airlines provide are declining. The seats are cramped. Nine out of ten times, the flights are delayed. You have to pay to check a bag. Sometimes, snacks are no longer free...it's heartbreaking.
However, until this weekend, I was not aware of the fact that the passengers on airplanes are also getting stranger.

As I waited to go to the bathroom on my flight to Boston, a woman emerged from the stall. She was wearing very dark, large sunglasses. I looked around the flight to see if maybe it was brighter than I realized, however, she was definitely the only one wearing shades on the plane. Only seconds later, a man emerged wearing even larger headphones. They were similar to the ones musicians wear in the recording studio. I thought the two made quite the unnecessarily accessorized bathroom team.

A few short minutes later, when I emerged from the restroom, I noticed another interesting character. He was a small man (I like to call him Roger in my head. He looked like a Roger) sitting Indian style on the very edge of his seat...meditating. He was meditating right there on Delta 710.

I admit, I thought these three incidents were a little strange. However, the final straw came on my return flight Sunday morning.

It's been said that the most effective time to fall asleep on a plane is during take off because of decreased oxygen levels and an increased G-force (I couldn't make that up). So, being the failure of a napper that I am, I entered my return flight determined to fall asleep. Before the plane even started moving, I closed my eyes and put my head back on the seat. I thought if I was fully-relaxed before take off even commenced, maybe just maybe, I would be successful.

As I sat there, trying to calm my mind, the boy to my left started talking to me. He said, "Take off scares me too." So I opened my eyes and smiled and told him that I was hoping I could fall asleep, but yes, I agree, take off is scary.

After the plane took off and we'd reached the ideal level of elevation, I was still in the same position, thinking about the fact that I was a total plane-sleeping-failure. All of the sudden, my seat reclined. I opened my eyes to discover that the scaredy-cat next to me had reached over my lap to try and help me get my snooze on...he'd put my seat back for me.

He was sitting there, smiling, proud of his kind gesture. So, naturally, all I could do was thank him for the help. Of course, this only led to an extensive conversation about his home town (Dubai), what he was doing in Boston (he just completed his freshman year), where he was going (Irvine, CA), why he was going there (he was transferring schools because he had gotten very low grades this year. very low) and what he was hoping to do with his life (start a business similar to his parents, because his family is very very wealthy, though he is not spoiled...).

Needless to say, I did not take a nap (surprise surprise).

I can only imagine what would have happened if my chatty, but helpful, friend had gotten seated next to Roger the meditator. He probably would have mistaken Roger's closed eyes for a nap-attempt, and out of the kindness of his heart, reclined his seat and started chatting away.

Roger's focus would have been completely broken, and he'd have to ask Mr. Big Headphones from the bathroom to borrow them in order to drown out the stories from the neighboring chatterbox. Maybe the crazy sunglasses lady would have offered up her shades to Roger, just so he could maximize his meditation. It would be such an unlikely and beautiful turn of events: they'd all join together like the crazy little passengers they are. You can't blame them, really. In these rough times that airlines are offering us, we passengers have got to stick together.

the first city

“I guess I'm in a trivial pursuit question. It's really weird.” Kevin Youkilis

This fall, I had an experience that every true shopper should be blessed with: when I visited Brandon in Italy, I got to see the world's first shopping mall.

As I was walking around the building, looking at the hand painted ceiling and perfectly carved architecture, I felt overwhelmed. Essentially, during my entire stay in Italy, I had the same feeling.

To think that these buildings have existed for hundreds of years...

To think that before so much of the technology we use today ever existed, before so many current countries had developed, and so many ideas we hold as commonplace today were far from being discovered...

...these buildings were standing.

I can hardly wrap my mind around it.

In a way, it's similar to how I feel when I think about outer space. I know that it goes on forever. However, when I truly think about it...it kind of hurts my brain.

The historic places in Italy give me the same mind-boggling feeling.

Although it may not be quite as old, the first American city also has an impressive amount of history. This weekend I had the great pleasure of visiting Boston for the first time with Sara and Jim. Between the Freedom Trail and the nation's first restaurant, the Union Oyster House, I saw quite a lot of the area.

As we sat at the bar in the oyster house, watching the battle of the Sox (the Red Sox won), I kept looking around for Sam Adams. In a city so historic, part of me really believed that he might still be moseying around town.

Unfortunately, this was clearly not the case. However, I was able to enjoy a drink at the Cheers at Faneuil Hall (which landed me a Cheers cocktail glass...I'm such a tourist).
After traversing the city almost two complete times, which led to an accidental following of the Freedom Trail, I feel as if I have a pretty good grasp on the city (not directionally, clearly, but an idea as to what Boston has to offer).

And with such extensive research, I can confidently say that it was everything I could have imagined, and so much more. It's a city of history, great (great) shopping and so much pride, especially in the realm of athletics.

While I can say I learned a lot about the history of the Northeast, I can say I also learned a lot about Boston sports fans. It's been said that between the Patriots (ahem), Red Sox, Bruins and Celtics, Boston has one of the largest fan bases in the nation. And everywhere you look, this fact becomes more and more evident. With every piece of history I saw, there was also a pair of red socks nearby, spewing off team trivia.

With all the knowledge I took away from such an information-filled city, one fact really stuck with me: Kevin Youkilis has a secret obsession with Mexican food and his favorite summer drink is a Margarita.

...Talk about a girl who knows her baseball stats.

Béla Károlyi!

One year, for Ashley's birthday, she asked for a very short list:
1. The Paul Mitchell haircare kit
2. A really large beach towel with elephants on the ends
3. An even larger trampoline

Ashley's list was especially good for her siblings. You see, she took one for the team in asking for the trampoline, because it was certainly a gift that all five of us could enjoy.

My favorite solo-activity on the trampoline was to put on my swimsuit from the IAC swim club and go out to the trampoline. I'd then perform certain tricks, which, in my head looked similar to Dominique Moceanu's floor and balance beam routine.

I'd say, out loud, "Now, with her floor routine, from the United States of America, Dominique Moceanu!"

I'd strike that perfect pose they have at the start of the routine, with their hands in the air, one leg out, back arched. I'd perform my routine, then land, again, just how those little gymnasts do. After landing, I'd turn and smile to all four sides of the stadium (aka my backyard).

Next, of course, I would announce my score, always above 9 but rarely a perfect 10 (obviously, let's be realistic).

After I finished my routine, I'd perform for the other countries. I'd always mess up or trip on purpose, then at the end I'd say, "Oh, only a score of 3 for Russia." or "China did not complete their beam routine." (I'm cool, I know).

Of course, the reason that I, one who is very far from being a gymnast, was so inspired to perform such routines in my Speedo was because of the Magnificent Seven. The only U.S. women's gymnastic team to win a gold medal.

What made them so great, though, was Keri Strug's finale. The one-legged hobble, but still a perfect landing made the 1996 Olympics ingrained in my brain forever.

And while Keri did not make the cut among these eight Olympic legends, her performance was undoubtedly memorable. Already, the memory of her routine has lasted much longer than the Paul Mitchell kit, the towel and the trampoline. Now that's staying power.