Twelve

Fellow blue people continue to cross my path during my early morning trek into pre dawn state of Vancouver. The residents are oblivious to the cities goings on at 5:30 am and why wouldn't they. As I cross intersection after intersection with flashing green lights anticipating the next pedestrian my body shivers with excitement. The excitement steams from this passion I have for the Olympics. I like watching the events and ceremonies on TV, following along with the medal count, learning interesting facts about the host city, and imagining what it would be like if I were one of those professional athletes.

This particular morning if felt as if I were apart of a movie set with the largest organized cast getting into positions. I am still on route to my final destination driving along the final stretch of road before I make one last turn off and scope out a parking space. I peer down many of the side streets along 2nd Ave running parallel to the athletes village and already many blue jacketed personal are manning their posts. My blue count doubles with each block I pass. I have passed blue jackets on foot, on wheels, ascending and descending stairs, and disappearing into waiting tents.