As the Olympics pull into the home stretch, I only have a few more sleeps left before I’m London bound. Don’t get me wrong, I’m tickled pink as tickets are secured, plans are in place, friends are gathering, and a couch in a swanky London flat has my name written all over it but there’s that one thing that I can’t seem to forget. Yes, that nagging voice at the back of my head that my hell or high water desire to be in attendance at these particular games stems directly from the fact that I was robbed of the chance to see the winter games in my hometown.
The dirty details about why this happened won’t help rewrite the past so the last thing anyone needs is for me to rehash boring stories about how an En Francais Fella hit it on the nose with the statement that double z’s are always a bad sign. If its true that time heals all wounds then I’m not quite sure what went wrong in this case. Regardless, the reason why this is of any significance is that for the first time ever, I’ll be landing somewhere with an insanely over-hyped expectation of greatness. London will not be my magnificent hometown transformed to tremendous heights to greet the world where an insider could have gotten me into the VIP section of the closing ceremonies. Despite any common sense that I possess, my expectations are no less for London 2012.
Granted, my level of common sense is probably lower than the general public but truth be told, I’m expecting the unicorns shooting out of a monkey’s ass along with a symphony of fire kind of fabulous. Without any inside connections, I’m not sure how far my wit, charm, and fast talking ways will get me into VIP exclusiveness. The thing is, when I dream, I tend to dream big and so I’m not the girl heading to the games with the dream to kiss an Olympian as I would rather be the girl who walks away from these Olympics with stories that rival the ones that friends have of the games in Vancouver. Trust me, this is a difficult feat as my inner circle has tales of endless events, pop up bars, VIP this or that, and closing ceremony seats with unlimited bubbles under their belts. My idea of going for gold is to top these stories with my fabulous tales of the games in London. I guess time will only tell if I end up having the time of my life or fly back to Dublin with my head hanging low and filled with disappointment.