Yesterday my husband and I returned home from London having spent two whirlwind days visiting my favorite city and attending three Olympic events. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve been asked dozens of times what I thought of the trip. Was it fun? Was it crazy? Was it exciting? Was it exhausting? The answer to each question is, of course, an easy “YES!”, but trying to explain the why is a bit more difficult.
What would make me pack up my husband and fly across an ocean to spend forty-eight hours in a different country, only to pack up and fly back home?
The opportunity to experience something as incredible as the Olympics with tens of thousands of other people.
I am not generally an “I’m missing something!” kind of person, and while I like to attend fun events, I’m actually more likely to stay home with my family. But there is something magical to me about the power of the collective experience. I’ve blogged about it in the past as it relates to my husband who seemed like a stranger to me in the moments after I discovered he had never owned an original Nintendo NES, and it is the same powerful feeling that forever tied me to London after living there during the death of Princess Diana.
On Saturday afternoon my husband and I took the tube to Wembley, arguably the most famous football stadium in the world, to watch the men’s gold medal finals between Brazil and Mexico. The second the doors opened, the electricity in the air was tangible, the excitement visible all around us. As we made our way down the station steps, I grabbed for my video camera, and hand shaking with energy captured just a few minutes of video to be able to share with friends and family why it was worth all of the time, trouble, and money to be there. To actually be there: