Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a chance to check out a lot of what the Winter Olympics has had to offer. There was live music every night, medal ceremonies to cheer for, and thousands upon thousands of new friends who enjoy singing the national anthem together. I also had a chance to see the German, Dutch, and Irish pavilions and learned that all their cultures include massive amounts of drinking. See, we’re not so different.

With all the highs, there was one big low. I was at one of the live music sites waiting for my friends, when I made a drastic and very poor decision. I decided to check out the Coca-Cola pavilion while I was waiting.

Now, there are two trains of thought on this one. If you are of the first mind, you will be saying, “Oh Hornbell, of course that was a bad decision. Corporate America will always let you down, and the pure spirit of the Olympics has been muddied by crass commercialism.” If you are of the second mind, like me, you figured “Sure, corporate advertising is out of hand, but they have the big bucks to put on a really good show.” I wasn’t doing anything else, so I hopped into line.

Half an hour later I was only half way to the door. Annnnnnnnnnd there were kids walking out the exit looking pretty disappointed. Let me say that again. There were kids, who go wild with ecstasy whenever they are even in the same province as sugar-water and flashing lights, leaving the Coke pavilion, that should have been a pants wetting explosion of both, looking downright bored.

This did not bode well. But now I was line committed so I wasn’t going anywhere. I mean, I could see the door! Little did I know that getting through the door only led you to the line to get into the movie. You guessed it, you had to go to the movie. Awesome.

So I settled in for a few minutes of a cheesy “inspirational” video of people who Coke sponsored to carry the torch. It was pretty average and I figured that this is what killed the spirit of all those kids I saw leaving.

Oh, if only this were true. When the show was over they unleashed the lamest piece of marketing embarrasment that I have ever had the misfortune to be a part of. The person who had introduced the video came back out and yelled “WHO WANTS TO DRINK SOME HAPPINESS!.” To which some people cheered. I don’t blame them. That was kind of the vibe on the street at the time, but I just stood there stunned. Drink some happiness? Did they put the cocaine back in?

Then the Coke person pulled back this big door to reveal about 8 Coke workers cheering like crazy amidst billows of smoke and lasers. “Who wants to drink some coke!” They yelled at me. “C’mon over and drink some happiness!”All between crazed fist pumping and phony smiles.

I tried to bolt through without anyone touching me. I thought I had made it when one Coke cheerleader darted out of nowhere and forced a high five out of me. She squeezed my hand as we slapped. In that moment I looked into this person’s dead eyes and they screamed, “Help me.” I knew right then that she was trapped in here, an endless cycle of drunken faux happiness, being paid with only corn syrup and lies. I could do nothing more than mouth, I’m sorry. With some difficulty I slid my hand away and made my way to the exit without ever looking back.

I learned my lesson after that little excursion. No more corporate tents for me. From then on, I stuck to the more cultural pavilions to find out about other countries, to immerse myself in their way of life, and to drink myself into a blissful stupor on their traditional fermented joy.

censor the ship out of it
Clark