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So far, only one athlete is known to have backed out of Athens explicitly because of security concerns. U.S. rower Xeno Muller, a two-time Olympic medalist, was in his boat moments before the U.S. trials when he considered the risks and got out of the water. "I'm not against the Olympics," says Muller, who has three children. "All I know is that I'm slightly happier now that I'm not going. Actually, quite a bit happier." U.S. tourists seem to feel the same way. By most estimates, U.S. Olympic tourism is down 20% to 30%, and while some of that can be attributed to the weak dollar, NBC, which is hardly impoverished, has set up an alternative site for its traditional advertiser boondoggle. Fat cats can watch the Games from Bermuda.
For Americans, the Olympics provide a break between the political conventions and a brief chance to invest themselves in sports they usually don't care about. But in a nation with unmatched economic and athletic dominance, the Olympics are no longer a proving ground for U.S. national identity. There are no more miracles on ice. For Greeks, though, the Games were supposed to be both a glorious look back and a 21st century coming-out party. Instead, they have become a burden. "When we got the Games, almost everybody was enthusiastic and happy," says Nikos Dimou, a prominent Greek novelist and social critic. But Dimou says the fearsome cost and the shame of the admittedly necessary I.O.C. intervention have turned people off. "We stopped seeing the Olympics as 'our Games,'" he says.
The proof is at the box office. Organizers have sold only a bit more than one-third of the 5.3 million tickets available, even though many are priced well below those at the 2000 Sydney Olympics. They are counting on a typically Greek last-minute rush to fill the stands but admit it will take a miracle to engineer Olympic sellouts.
With the hurried preparations, the terrorism fears, Greek ambivalence and the ongoing drug scandal, the Olympic flame isn't burning too brightly. But these are still two of the better weeks in which to be a human being. The opening ceremonies may be cheesy --and you just know Yanni will be making an appearance--but when those 10,000 athletes from 202 countries, including Iraq and Afghanistan, march into the stadium in outfits that would be considered camp at the Tony Awards, the world will have a rare chance to see itself as it would like to be. And in the 16 days that follow, when those athletes achieve incredible things--and more often when they don't--we will also have a chance to indulge in a little global empathy. That alone is a reason to throw a party. Even if the tram never arrives. --With reporting by Anthee Carassava/Athens and Amy Lennard Goehner and Clayton Neumann/New York