Participating in the Olympics is both exasperating and exhilarating. This paradox characterized my experience of games. There will always be more exciting events to attend, but that doesn't diminish the intense allure of the world's biggest party, whether or not there's anything to enjoy. The Olympic events in Vancouver, both sporting and cultural, were characterized by very long queues, hyper-dense crowds and expensive, often unobtainable tickets. While the list of free activities offered in the Lower Mainland deserved its own guide, those who attended these events deserved a gold medal in waiting. Despite the tedium of waiting, there was an undeniable excitement and fervor in the air. The streets of Vancouver were filled with national pride. Everyone was dressed in red and white and smelled of alcohol. With nowhere to go, nothing to do, the crowd began chanting, "high-fiving," and forming a swaggering, directionless march through the streets. While I had a great time participating in the patriotic and almost chauvinistic march, the real highlights of my Olympic experience came from the observations of others. Media coverage of the Olympics was omnipresent. Aside from the standard coverage of sporting and cultural events, there was coverage of absolutely everything happening in the lower mainland. Both accredited, non-accredited and amateur media have been asking and answering about everything related to the Olympics. Every day I explored the internet, finding nuanced reports and analysis of the games. Live, high-definition television coverage of games gave me front-row seats that others paid hundreds or thousands of dollars for. My Olympic experience was therefore divided into two parts, my adventures in the circus and my exploration... in the middle of a sheet of paper... bie, where I saw an act of selflessness and generosity. A Sikh community was handing out what smelled like delicious curry and fruit juice to anyone who wanted it. The duality of desperation and generosity was ever-present on the Downtown East Side that day. Having been deeply depressed by my observations, I decided to return to the Olympic Spirit. I met some friends at a bar in Yaletown to watch the Canada-Switzerland game. Our seats were at the back of the bar, with a partially obstructed view of a small television, but that didn't deter our enthusiasm for the game. The bar was full of excitement, people cheering with drunken fervor. The beer was expensive, the television was small, and all the time the excitement was invigorating. After Canada's narrow victory in overtime, the bar patrons emptied out and filled the streets in celebration.