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ticket madness

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Tried to pick up those Olympics tickets. What a disaster. I met Sara at around 12:30, and we headed to the ONE spot in downtown Sydney that was designated for picking up Olympics tickets. The line, which wasn't moving, headed in two directions, and wrapped both ends of the block upon which the ticketek was situated. We pulled the plug on that idea, and grabbed some uninspiring food at a noodle joint. Then we kissed goodbye, and I got on a northbound train to go back to work. It sat in the station for 35 minutes, at which I just might have been able to walk the distance (well, in 45 minutes anyway). I suppose the moral of the story is Sydney ain't ready. But hey, who thought it would be? Who could be ready for that which the Summer Olympics has become?

I feel cruddy. I suspect this lousy diet I'm on is draining me completely. I've had six migraines in the last two weeks, and no I think I've gotta cold. In warm weather!