8/14/16 (Rio
2016 Day 9), “All Good Things Must Come to an End”
Rio de
Janeiro, Brazil (Olympic Equestrian Centre)
As Chaucer
wrote nearly a millennium ago, all good things must come to an end. Even this epic trip. I don’t want to leave. I really don’t. I actually felt a physical gut-wrenching pain
as I took the taxi to the equestrian venue, realizing that my time at the Games
was coming to an end. I am now at
qualifiers for one of my favorite events, the show jumping, and it hurts
knowing that I will watch the Finals on my cell phone, but it hurts even more,
as it does at the end of every Games, knowing that the Games will soon be
over. Closing ceremonies are a week from
today, and that will signify the end to this glorious Games.
The good news is, while this Games is coming
to a close, the Winter Games in Pyeongchang are just a year and a half away,
and the Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo will be in four years. In a few hours, I’ll be at the airport
analyzing every detail of the trip and reflecting and making such statements
as, “I am forced to conclude that this was the greatest trip I have ever
taken,” or similar superlatives. Then,
tomorrow morning, I’ll be back at the office, and, tomorrow night, I’ll be
watching Bob Costas’s introduction and hearing the Bugler’s Dream for the first
time this Games, as I see the familiar iconic shots of Rio playing over his
introduction. That is how I will
experience Phase 2 of this Games.
After
I closed, I headed back to the room, and I literally fell asleep as I was
publishing. I woke up and finished
publishing. Raymond had already left for
Golf. I got dressed for the day,
figuring I might as well dress for the part: my dark blue polo shirt, cargo
shorts, and high bright red socks all courtesy of Ralph Lauren accompanied my
Nike black sneakers and light blue Team USA hat. I was definitely dressed to watch the
horses. I was running late, and I
figured, wrongly once more, that it would be quicker to take a cab. Once more, I got stuck in traffic, but I didn’t
care. There were only two names that
mattered to me: McLain WARD and Beezie MADDEN.
They were the last two riders for Team USA. I’d be good on time to get there and get
situated in time for McLain’s round.
The
taxi dropped me off outside the military checkpoint, and I walked to the
equestrian venue. I got my pin and, fortunately,
found a showjumping beer cup, not really caring that I was having a beer for
breakfast. I found a seat, and there was
plenty of time before McLain came up.
When it was his turn, I stood up by the railing to get a good view. He had a good round, only having one small
jump penalty. After his round, I
returned to my seat, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now
close so that I can, I think, have a cigar before Beezie comes up.
I’ll save
the superlatives for the airport, but I think I already know how it will pan
out. I don’t have much to report, but I
wanted to write one last entry from my spot before I flew home. Whenever I spend a significant amount of time
in the same place, I like to think about the way I will always remember
it. For Yellowknife, it was the rock
behind the hotel. For Granada, it was
the view from my balcony where I spent so much time, likewise for the patio in
Saint Vincent. For Rio, it will be two
things. It will be that view of the pool
from behind the railing, where I was so frequently recorded. It will also be this spot, this view from the
roof of Christ the Redeemer. Just one
last entry here. Then I will pack and do
the proper reflections. If I have time,
I will also post some photos before I leave, but all good things must come to
end, and this is the last time I will experience this view.
After I closed, I headed out for a cigar to
pair with the rest of my beer. I was
shocked how packed the venue was. Even
Swimming wasn’t this crowded. I really
only cared about seeing Beezie, so I was quite content to have my cigar and
beer at the picnic tables before her turn.
When she was about to come up, I headed back inside and found an even
better seat. I stood by the railing to
watch her do her thing, and I think she rode clear, or maybe she had one
penalty.
I waited until the last French
rider before leaving. He fell off his
horse. “The joy of victory, and the
agony of defeat,” I said to myself as I was leaving the venue. It was a long and arduous process to get back
to the hotel. The light rail was packed,
and people kept walking up and down the aisle selling snacks and drinks,
including beer. After a very long ride, we
were finally at Central Station. I
transferred to the subway, and I was soon at Largo do Marchado. I realized that check-out time had probably
already passed. Hopefully, they would
let us use the room for the afternoon.
My key didn’t work, but they reactivated it, so I was fine.
The W Vault finals were going on, so I
watched that as I started packing.
Simone gave two exception vaults and secured her third Gold of the
Games. I then headed up to the roof and
sat down in my usual spot, where I lit up a Partagas and proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close so that I can try to upload some photos if I
have time and then head to the airport.
Farewell, sweet Rio, but I’ll be watching you for 7 more Days when I get
home.
Rio Galeao –
Tom Jobim International Airport, Brazil (GIG)
Ah, now for
the triumphant airport entry. It was a
great trip. It deserves a great
entry. As is my tradition, I will treat
the Return Journey in its entirety tomorrow, but I believe that my reader only
has question for me at this point. Was
this trip the GOAT? How shall we answer
that question? Let’s start by examining
the other contenders. I see only the National
Parks of the American West (NPAW), Eurotrip, and Alaska as the possible
contenders.
I believe that Antarctica
and Israel were similar trips that fail instantly in comparison to the epicness
of this trip. They were both trips of
comradery of familiar and repeated locations, but I never once felt so much at
home in Israel as I did inside the venues of the Games. With Antarctica, the Harbor of Rio de Janeiro
gives Antarctica a run for its money, but partying every night was what made
the trip what it was. This trips fails
in regard to both Israel and Antarctica in that regard, but there were plenty
of epic nights, and the nights I spent at Swimming more than make up for the
lack of all-nighters. I will also
eliminate my first trip to Greece because being at the Games must rank higher
than seeing the sites of the Ancient Games.
I will similarly say that my first trip to Euro when I was younger fails
against my more recent Eurotrip. The
road trip I took with my mother last summer, our Last Great Summer Road Trip
Adventure, fails against the NPAW.
Alaska, though, while fun and beautiful, also seems to fail against
Eurotrip. It was epic, and we hit
everything, but it did not seem to quite measure up to either NPAW or
Eurotrip.
That just leaves NPAW and
Eurotrip. NPAW has been, ever since I
took it, an unchallenged GOAT trip. Only
Eurotrip came close. The thing about
Eurotrip, though, was that it had no magical moments. It had a truly great moment almost every day
or night, but nothing that would count as a top ten. It was the 18 Days of everything working out
in the end that made it so epic, the first extended international trip I took
on my own, all of that was what made it what it was. I saw 100 sites, and I hit them all,
including 10 countries. That was the
epicness of it. It is very difficult to
compare that to nights like last night.
I can compare last night to New Year’s Eve in Port Lockroy, and I think
last night wins. I can’t compare it to
the joy of being perfect on Eurotrip.
That was my Phelps in Beijing.
The Munich Run was my 100m Butterfly.
However, everything I did in Europe, I could have done again if I
missed. Seeing Phelps’s last race is
something that can only happen once.
That is something that I can tell my kids, my grandkids even. “Daddy (or Pops), who was the greatest
athlete of all time?” “Sonny, there once
was a swimmer named Michael Phelps. He
must have been half-dolphin. No one ever
swam the way he swam, and he was the greatest athlete who ever lived. Now, let me tell you about the best night of
my life, or, at least the best night until I met your mother (or
grandmother). It was in Rio de Janeiro,
during the 2016 Olympics, and I saw the last time he ever raced.”
That was just one of so many magical moments
this trip. Not great, magical. I will also add in that Rio is a Natural
Wonder of the World and also has a New7 Wonder.
My Eurotrip brought me to zero of those.
Further, being at the Opening Ceremonies easily beats out all the other
Stadiums I visited that trip combined. It
is for those reasons that I am forced to conclude that this trip beats out
Eurotrip.
Now, the question becomes,
which trip was better, this one or NPAW.
If Eurotrip was Phelps in Beijing, NPAW was Phelps in Athens. It was my first truly great trip. It was the trip that opened my eyes to
America the Beautiful. It brought me to
the Grand Canyon, a Natural Wonder of the World. That first morning, when I woke up, and ran
outside the cabin to see the Grand Canyon, that is comparable to the Opening
Ceremonies, it is even comparable to seeing Phelps’s GOAT race. Is it is comparable to any single moment of
any other trip, save one. Last
night.
Seeing Phelps’s last race and the
magic of the denouement is the strongest claim to GOAT that this trip has. Nothing, other than certain drunken misadventures,
especially my last few NYE celebrations, even comes close to last night. I will remember that for the rest of my
life. However, that night on its own is
not enough to unseat NPAW. We visited
six other National Parks besides the Grand Canyon. I had moments that trip that I still
remember, including a certain donkey ride down a canyon or running through the
scenery, pretending to be Butch Cassidy or the Sundance Kid.
I am not going to match up those moments one
to one against the magical moments of this trip. How do I compare the donkey ride to day at
Sugarloaf we spent with the girls? How
do I compare our low-gas run to Canyonlands to watching Simone and Aly finish
1-2 in the All-Around? How do I compare
seeing the Grand Canyon to watching Phelps become the GOAT?
Here’s a much better question, if, during the
Sydney Games, someone had come up to me and told me everything that 15-year-old
phenom would accomplish over the next 16 years, and I could see him in person
in Rio like this and that, when the end of 2016 came around, I would be in
Sydney, saying that I had visited every Olympic Stadium, or I could discover
America the Beautiful, visit all of our National Parks, see everything this
wonderful country had to offer, from sea to shining sea, which would I
choose?
I’m fortunate that I am getting
to experience both, and I never thought during the Sydney Games that either of
them would be a remote possibility. The
Olympics and the National Parks are two of my greatest loves, but which do I
love more? That is the only question. It is not an easy question to answer, not at
all, but I think the answer should be obvious to anyone who has both endured
the Games of the past 16 years with me and travelled to various National Parks
with me.
What is the answer, then? I believe my reader knew the answer to this
question as soon as I started writing this entry. Cue the “Bugler’s Dream.” It is for that reason, that I have no choice
but to conclude, this trip was the GOAT.
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