Olympics diaries: the little antenna things on the bobsleds

Friday, February 11, 2:10 PM: Wheeeeee!

Friday, February 11, 5:10 PM: Wheeeeeeee!

Saturday, February 12, 10:10 AM: Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Saturday, February 12, 11:05 AM: Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!

Saturday, February 12, 12:40 PM: Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

Saturday, February 12, 1:55 PM: Wheeeeeee!

Saturday, February 12, 11:59 PM: The walls are closing in. I’ve never been more depressed in my life. The sleds keep slamming into the barriers. As far as I know, there haven’t been any serious injuries, but what about ME?! Those two Swiss guys ran me into the ice so hard that I think I’ve been transmitting the wrong velocities for the last three heats. I doubt they noticed though, no one appreciates me. And when they’re done with me I get locked in a shed, only to do it all again the next morning. Is this all there is to this meaningless existence? To hurtle through an algid tube created by bureaucratic forces beyond understanding, maneuvered by the hands of an unknowable driver? Unable to see or determine your own fate?

Sunday, February 13, 9:30 AM: Wheeeeeeeeeee!