Gone are the ludicrous amounts of Canadian flags, the babel of languages spilling out from all directions, and the obnoxiously loud fireworks at 11pm, interrupting my prime half-asleep book-reading hour. Gone are the awesome Russian sweatsuits, the mobs to see the flame which, decked out in barbed wire and sky-high industrial fencing, was eerily reminiscent of a concentration camp, and the tourists who seemed to have a crack-like, do-or-die addiction to collecting pins. But most of all: gone are the thousands and thousands of tiny cowbells that nearly drove me to the brink of mass murder.
Of course, enough gold can soften even my skeptical heart. Beating Team USA: left. me. speechless. When USA scored with 20 seconds to go at the end of the 3rd, sending the game to overtime, my chest actually hurt. I had to place my head between my knees to stop the hyperventilating. So scoring in OT, and taking the gold, felt like heaven was on earth for just a moment.
And so: photos from the last two weeks of Olympic madness, for better, for worse, and for Gold.