Salt Lake City

LAKE PLACID, N.Y. -- This was no roller coaster. The half-mile ride required a liability waiver: Bobsledding "is a hazardous act, which could cause personal injury or damage," according to the only capitalized sentence in a forest of fine print. After swearing not to sue, my boyfriend, Eric, and I ascended to the starting point in a minivan, pulled on helmets and wedged between the sled's driver and a stranger. The countdown began as the brakeman rowed the fiberglass sled back and forth, heaved forward and vaulted into the back.

It is alleged to be the highest level of security ever mustered at a public gathering: bomb-sniffing dogs, 12,000 armed guards, video cameras, X-ray machines, helicopters and metal detectors. Yet someone has managed to sneak a 3-foot-tall, 40-pound, multicolored Olympic mascot out of the main Olympic media center in downtown Salt Lake City. A voice on the public address system asked for the return of the gumdrop-shaped mascot from the 1998 Nagano Winter Games "no questions asked." A spokeswoman for the Olympic museum, where the mascot was last seen, said pranksters had moved the nameless fluff ball several times, but never off site.

Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson has inadvertently answered that age-old question: What if you gave a party and no one came? His much-ballyhooed, $2.5 million "alternative" block party at City Hall, not far from the official doings at the Olympics Medal Plaza, has had all the spark of a wet match. Except for one afternoon, when the Beach Boys (who sang a song called "Salt Lake City" back in 1965) packed the joint, everyone's having fun, fun, fun somewhere else. It's Rocky's party, and he'll cry if he wants to.

They camped overnight in sub-freezing temperatures, enduring snide comments from passersby and neighbors. Finally, Salt Lake City residents got their hands on the limited number of tickets to free nightly concerts. They sat back smugly, watching the eBay prices jump like vintage Enron stock for tickets to Creed, Barenaked Ladies and the Dave Matthews Band at the Olympic Medals Plaza. But just like Enron, the fall has been hard. On the night when Timothy Goebel was skating in the men's figure skating finals, two scalpers stood not far from the Salt Lake Ice Center.

The great wienie crisis has been averted. Olympic organizers underestimated how many $5 all-Angus-beef hot dogs spectators and volunteers would consume during the two-week Winter Games. It seems 400,000 was off by more than half. To make the stash last until an emergency order could be delivered, organizers relaxed their rule on no food from the outside and diverted hot dogs earmarked for volunteers. Mitt Romney, the head of the games, told anxious reporters, "the factory is squeezing out more of those little puppies."