Olympic Size Frustration -----> Joy

I have have to get something off my chest. I was not allowed to receive tickets to the 2008 Olympiad. Before I get into this, I must say that writing about this renews my frustration over the events that have transpired over the last five weeks of my life. I have been unbearable whilst trying to sort out this insane bureaucratic nightmare from the 5th dimension.

Lets start one and a half years ago:
A fresh faced chap from the mean streets of Tongzhou sat in his 12ft. x 12ft. cell of a dorm room scouring the internet for English instructions regarding the purchasing of Olympic tickets by foreigners. After hours of searching our young hero plowed his way through red tape and ID confirmation to secure eight tickets to four Olympic events: Swimming, Track and Field, Boxing, and Handball.

Sidebar:
I have always found handball to be an intriguing sport ever since being exposed to it in gym class at Parkway North High School. It combines the tactics of soccer with the athleticism of basketball with more contact than both. During the last Olympics I scheduled my days around watching Handball. I am Olympic crazy.

Lets fast forward six months:
We rejoin our hero as he has triumphantly, if privately, returns to China. Within days of his return he received an email from the BOC (Beijing Olympic Committee) confirming his purchase of eight Olympic tickets.

Eight months later:
He waits patiently for a notice, a notice that will tell him where and when to pick up his tickets. He receives the notice. There is much rejoicing.

I headed down to the bank where my tickets were being held humming a triumphant little tune that is familiar to all those who enjoy NBC's Olympic broadcast. I arrived at the bank and waited patiently for my number to be called. I walked to the window and gave my passport. The attendant checked my passport against the information in her computer. She turned as if in slow motion and said a long, heavily accented 'Noooooooo'. I shook it off and asked for my tickets. She told me that the information on in my passport did not match the information submitted online. I quested: "WHAT information?" She said that the visa I used to purchase the tickets was currently invalid. I calmly, if loudly, told her that visas expire every year. She said that if I had a question I would have to take it up with the BOC on their help hotline. I refused to leave until justice had been metered out. They called the complaint department for me and put me on the phone with a lady who told me that I must submit a change of information form and a copy of my passport for the information to be changed. I protested loudly, both verbally and non. Curses filled my head and sharp motions with my elbows and shoulders were their manifestation. I was asked to leave and took exception to the force of their request. I hesitated and turned back to the counter when a security guard armed with a taser baton held it over me. I walked out briskly muttering under my breath. I was beside myself with anger and thought about going home and just calling in sick to work.

Two days later, after I had calmed down sufficiently, I proceeded with my formal request for a change of my information. I submitted my information as requested and an emailed automatic response told me to wait five days for confirmation of receipt and then I would receive another email. I waited five days. Giving them the benefit of the doubt I even waited a sixth. I then called. I was told my information had been received and my request would be carried out, "pay close attention to your email", the voice said. That I did. It was inevitable that I would. I have been waiting for this day since 1988 when I watched Shannon Briggs box at the Seoul Olympics while staying on South Padre Island with my family. I had been waiting since the Winter Olympics in Albertville when my sister and I pretended to be downhill ski champions as we raced through the living room of our home in McAllen Texas with Crayola markers in our hands doubling as ski poles. I had waited since then so what was a couple more days I thought.

I waited a couple of days (three days ago) and called back, this time the girl remembered me. "You're the guy from before, aren't you?" she asked, "I am guessing I am." I replied. I knew I had made an impression on the last girl I talked to and banked on the fact that she doesn't get too many white people alternately beg and demand over the phone. She felt sorry for me and told me to call the ticket agents directly (I thought that is what I had been doing.) She gave me a name. I called the number and demanded to speak to the lady whose name I had at my disposal. I calmly explained my situation and she told me she would call me back in four hours and tell me what she could find out. She called me when I was between classes and told me that no one at her office had ever received any email from me. I went red hot. After I regained consciousness I told her that I would send her my information again and she then told me that I should write a letter to her office about the entire situation. I told her, "never". I could NEVER do that. They had me jumping thought hoops for over a month and they expected me to do another trick? I flatly refused and told her to get me my tickets before it became an international incident. The next day, today, I got confirmation that my information had been changed and I rushed to the bank a second time. Remembering my excitement the first time around I made sure to assume nothing was coming to me.

In 1993 I thought it was my cocksure attitude that prevented the Houston Oilers from beating the Kansas City Chiefs in the playoffs and I wasn't about to let it happen again.

I entered humbly hoping the guard would not recognize me. I approached the window and handed my passport to the lady behind the glass. She took it and smiled, I was looking for good signs and this was the first one. She punched a few numbers and then went to a big box. She pulled out an envelope and asked me to make sure everything was in order. I opened it and saw... They must have been doing some construction in there because it got real dusty for a moment and my eyes started watering. I thanked the lady politely and left in a hurry before they could find some sort of mistake. They are mine.

I have three days of work ahead of me before I can board a plane and head to Shanghai to see Team USA take out the uppity Australian basketball team. The three days of work will go by a little easier because I have to work a Wall Street English 'roadshow'. This is an event done in a public place with the intention of attracting more students. This one is called The BJ Carnival. There are several jobs for the foreign teachers to do one of which is play poker for eight hours. I am not that lucky. I was assigned to be the oral examiner at the BJ Carnival. I could have been playing poker for eight hours but instead I will be the oral examiner at the BJ Carnival. I hope I at least get a souvenier t-shirt identifying the event and my role.