Olympic Spirit, part 2

So last night I was eating at Applebee's with my family. It was a farewell thing for my sister, who starts grad school at Florida State this semester. I was sitting right underneath a TV watching the men's beach volleyball team beat Switzerland. A few minutes later, Michael Phelps was racing in the 100m butterfly. After the first 50 meters, Phelps was in seventh place (out of eight swimmers), more than half a second behind the leader. With about 25 meters left to go, I started hearing the following: "Dig...dig...dig, baby. Dig! DIG! DIG!!!" As if by magic, Phelps responded, touching the wall one hundredth of a second faster than Milorad Cavic, making it his seventh gold medal of these Olympics. The restaurant exploded with cheers and applause. Dozens of people sat entranced as the replay was shown again and again, every angle confirming that Phelps indeed finished first. Random people called out to other random people:"What was his time?" "Was that another world record?" "How did he do that?" All in all, it's just another reason I'm proud to be an American. There are about 53 other reasons, but that's too many to list (54 is the total medal count, in case you're wondering what the other 53 are).


And this is a picture of my cousins at the Breaking Dawn midnight sale. Some of them were asking about it, so here it is.