pin trading

MY OLYMPICS JOURNEY: Pins … they’re a habit and a state of mind

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When I arrived at my first Olympics in Vancouver in 2010, I didn’t understand pin trading.

I grasped the concept. I had been told about the concept and advised to bring some 11Alive pins to trade. But I ignored the advice. Pin trading sounded silly, and I didn’t get why it was a big deal.

By the time I left Vancouver, I had become a full-fledged pin convert.

Some people definitely come to the Olympics to collect pins. They value the more expensive ones, look to make deals with other traders and fans, and approach the objects from the perspective of a hobbyist. Most pin traders, though, seem to approach it for the social element. They want to trade pins so they can remember the stories behind them. They want to be able to look at their pins years later and instantly transport themselves back to when they received them.

I find myself doing this more regularly than I would have expected. I have kept my pin chains from the 2010 and 2014 Winter Games, and I still check them out on occasion and revel in the memories.

Already in 2016, I have snagged some great pins … and stories.

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MY OLYMPICS JOURNEY: How to succeed at pin trading (with kinda, sorta trying)

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I have hinted at it.

I have mentioned it.

But I have not really delved into the subplot bubbling under my Sochi Olympics experience.

That would be pin trading.

Perhaps you have never heard of it. I know I had never heard of it until I arrived at the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver. Within a few days, a collection of uniquely dressed gentleman had set up long, pin-filled tables outside the International Broadcast Center.

But pin trading is a phenomenon. Athletes, sponsors, and media members arrive at the Olympics with pins representing whoever their country, company, or publication. When two people of differing Olympic backgrounds have a pleasant conversation, they conclude it by exchanging pins.

At least, that is the theory.

But typically, it works a little differently. Some people simply do not care about the practice. Some maybe care too much, eyeing others’ pin chains with hawk-like tendencies. And some simply do it for the sport; they like to inject a little “Let’s make a deal” undercurrent to the Olympic grind.

I probably combine all three mentalities.

But mostly, I simply want a good story.

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MY OLYMPICS JOURNEY: Culture shock? What culture shock?

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I like to travel.

A lot.

And when I do, I seek the authentic – often to an absurd level.

When I toured Japan, I walked around one village in a white robe because to do otherwise would have been considered impolite. (It felt wonderful.)

When my girlfriend and I visited Italy, I demanded that we stop in Naples for the sole purpose of dining at the world’s oldest pizzeria. (It was delicious.)

And when I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru, I got so sick from food poisoning and altitude sickness that I had to spend two nights in a Peruvian hospital. (This one was not intentional.)

So naturally, when I got the call to go to Russia for the Olympics, I imagined numerous opportunities to scratch my authenticity itch.

After half a week, I’m still itching.

To be sure, the Olympic venues in Sochi are remarkable in many ways. The mountains are both imposing and impressive; the coastal cluster is full of fancy, brand-new arenas that look every bit as expensive as advertised.

But those sites seem more Olympian than Russian.

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