OWEN PERKINS
Salt Lake resident and happy employee of the Olympic superstore Melyssa Bonnell shows off the gear.
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To most of the world, Utah is just another foreign country. When you cross the sea for another wintry Olympiad, you expect an exotic culture, strange rituals, quaint customs. For the American mainstream media, however, Utah may as well be another planet.
The Olympics and Salt Lake City are a perfect fit, compatriots in striving for Osmond-esque wholesomeness and a clean-cut image, but not without an "oh my heck!" lurking beneath the surface, held back by tongues too-long bitten in suppression. The Olympic Movement is a philosophy of "peace through sport," but the actual Olympics are a private club for elite athletes, for wealthy patrons and corporations, and, much to the chagrin of the charter members, for the cr譥 of the crop of schemers, scammers, and scalpers. The skyrocketing price tag on tickets, hotel rooms, and rental cars ensures that the rest of us will keep our distance, settling for peddler to the proletariat Bob Costas and his NBC-sanctioned opiate for the masses.
The Olympics on $10 a Day
The Olympics have accomplished what progressive Utahans have spent generations failing at—opening up the bars, putting a lid on Mormon proselytizing, and even distributing condoms in the midst of an intricately choreographed stare-down between the city and its visitors. The locals are nearly as worried about what the world will think of them as they are concerned about the swarm of immorality descending like a plague on these quiet folk. In a state accustomed to self-determining authority, citizens are holding their breath as the capital city is leased out for this decadent corporate frat party.
For the athletes, there is still purity at the core of the Games, but the rest of us must tear through layers of corporate filtering before we can get at the unadulterated experience. Despite all attempts at using astronomical pricing to create a self-selecting elite population at Club Olympic, there is no shortage of obscure-sport enthusiasts willing to dip into the nest egg to crack open a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. There are those who will go even farther, curlheads and shredheads, speed freaks, and the teddy-bear faithful of the figure skating world coming to Salt Lake for a budget Olympics, going underground to steal a deal and even finding ways to skirt the $300 million security system. For those with what Waddie Mitchell, cowboy-poet-laureate of the Salt Lake Olympics, calls "that no-quit attitude," there is a way to see a dream fulfilled.
There are honest-to-god free events throughout the city, and given the amount of time you need to spend in line, it's easy to fill a day without spending more than a pocketful of change, if you've got patience and restraint. From the educational and cultural tents—where you can watch blacksmiths and mountain men, glass blowers and mascots practicing their craft—to the corporate playgrounds like Bud World and Coke World—where diehards stand in line for a chance to ride the luge, push a bobsled, or take a slap shot—you get what you pay for and then some.
A typical $10 day starts with a morning supply of Cap'n Crunch in the car out at the scenic view area west of town, or a bowl of hot ramen in a tent on National Forest land outside of Park City. The chance to get away from the host city, or the satellite venue towns scattered to the north, east, and south, is well worth it. Taking the hotel elevator down a dozen floors and then walking through the urban canyons on your way to a magnometer line to enter a free park can't compare with starting the day standing on the side of a quiet highway in the middle of nowhere, the Wasatch mountains crisp and clear in front of you, beaming as you take in the natural setting before entering the Olympic microcosm.
For the simplicity-inclined, the intervenue shuttles can cost $20, but parking is easier than you'd expect downtown, and the city buses run 35 miles for $1.25. For the ultimate free ride—no parking, no bus, no gas—I used my 400 miles of AAA towing as a free shuttle to the venues. Free, yes. But alas, AAA hardly counts as a corporate-free benefit.
Downtown Salt Lake is like a supermarket gearing up for Superbowl Sunday, with dozens of eating establishments vying for attention and offering one or two free samples per block, from cinnamon pretzels and peanut brittle to hot chocolate at the wilderness storefront. The best bet for beer drinking is to bring your own, but since that's not entirely legal, the "membership" in the private drinking establishments is relaxed, and you can find plenty of 3.2 brew for $6 a mug.
It's impossible to avoid the police and military presence, and there are rarely fewer than 15 armed officers in sight. They see you when you're sleeping; they know when you're awake. And although the Games are as yet without a serious security incident, security checks have been inconsistent, and recreational drugs and pocket knives are routinely carried into events. A pound of fresh-ground coffee in a backpack has proved effective in keeping Mormon security volunteers at bay. As for the athletes themselves, as of Presidents Day, there have been no positive drug tests, although a Belarus speed skater who has yet to compete did fail a screening test with 300 percent of the allowable limits of steroids in his system. But because his urine sample was compromised by a broken seal in transport, the positive tests were thrown out and the Olympics remain "drug free."
