One Moment In Time

When I woke up at 6:30 (*cough*8:30*cough*) this morning, I couldn't help but find myself filled with the incredible feeling of pride and excitement that usually accompanies waking up not having wet the bed. But today was different. Olymipic fever struck me right between the eyes, and I raced to my computer to see if God had smiled upon us today.
And He Had.
London got the Olympics. New York did not. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAH!
(Deanne, I know you're all "Woot! Woot! *Thumbs nose at Dan and America in General* Suck my Olympic superiority, Wankers!", and I'm very happy for you. But I'm so much happier for me.)
In case I hadn't made it perfectly clear in the past, it is my firm belief that holding the olympics in New York makes about as much sense as giving a loaded semi-automatic to a chimp with a debilitating head injury: it might be fun to watch from afar, but it's going to be pretty ugly up close and personal.
And now, my poor friends in London, having already been subjected to the phallic enormity of the Gherkin and the sad, sad Millenium Dome and Wheel (Not to mention British cuisine, The Spice Girls and the aftershocks of Oasis ) will have to cope with throngs of tourists, terrorist threats, opening ceremonies, traffic, an overtaxed public transport system, illegal immigrants, and most certainly a visit from W.
Suddenly, my plans to move to London within the next 6 years have been quickly and severly rethought.
And now that we have averted the Olympics and the West Side Stadium, New Yorkers can return to ignoring each other and the really important trials of day to day life: making it past the crazy homeless lady on the corner without her throwing snot at you.