A lot of people leave the arena early to get in line. But if you stick around long enough, you'll see the athletes emerge. "Good game," people tell the Romanians fresh out of the locker room, and they stare right back, wondering what the hell that means.

After congratulating the athletes, the spectators quickly form three lines outside, and when the wait gets long enough, Saranac and Marcy and Whiteface start talking to each other. Then they start singing together. By the time the Saranac bus pulls in, the three lines are belting out "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" in rounds. Near the back of the lines, students are staging the Official Pretzel Tossing Contest.

***

Many official Olympic officials enjoy telling people who complain--the ones who missed events because of the transportation, the ones who received the wrong tickets, the ones with frostbite and no hotel--that the awards ceremonies are open to the public. They certainly are, and the public is there, 20 deep around the platforms, half and hour before hand, freezing in anticipation. It's a high school pep rally, but greater.

It's all a blur. Eri cHeiden accepts his medal and smiles and waves. People shout, scream, love. "We love you." Jumping up and down to see over the heads of the thousands of people standing in front of you, you realize the view is much better on television, but on the tube you can't feel it: the cold and the happiness. And the pride, pride in the USA, in Our Country. "We love you."

Then the music and the fireworks over whelm you and you feel something you don't expect, the shivers, and this time it's not the cold.

The lady next to me is crying, no kidding.