The Great Invasion!

So right now there are like a million teams and athletes training here at the OTC.  That means visitors from not only all over the country but yes all over the world too.  It's an invasion by the Germs, the Cannucks, the Aussies, and yes the DUTCH! Now as you all know I traveled the world for years and years and since the mecca of speed skating is in the Netherlands that meant a lot of interaction with the DUTCH!  While there are a token few dutch people that I can say I like, the majority of them are pretty much detestable.

Now I'm experienced and know how to tune out the loud ya's, eh's, and so's but my fellow interns, well their newbies to the world of international obnoxious athletes. One of the interns, Kevin and fellow blogger had a great posting about his experiences with the Dutch and I thought I would re-post it for your reading pleasure.

A Wee Bit O'Lough - The Dutch 

I never thought I would say this in my entire life, but we are in the midst of a full-fledged Dutch invasion. The U.S. Olympic Committee hosts camps all the time. While we do have athletes living at the complex year-round, a solid majority of the athletes at the Olympic Training Center are temporary residents from all over the world who come in for a week or two at a time to use our facilities and gain insight from our staff. Most are American. Most are cool. Some are not. This became evident when Dutch cyclists invaded our floor.

They came in their orange and black lycra stretch suits nearly a month ago for what most of us thought would be a week, but weeks have turned into a month and there is no end in sight. I don’t mind the bikes that block up the hall. I ignore the stereotypically Dutch “Ya’s” and high-pitched and overly-enthusiastic “haw, haw, haw” laughter echoing from the bathroom. I just close my eyes when they chase each other jubilantly down the hall in their grippy, whitey tighty-style underwear (although it is usually leopard print or something of that variety).

The final straw came Sunday night when Rob, Chase, Zac and I were trying to relax, eat junk food and watch a movie in the lounge, squeezing the final drops of enjoyment out of our weekend.
Faster than Double Dutch, the bike team barged in, turned on the lights– laughing and carrying on, of course– and piled around the poker table. We four movie-viewers exchanged an “Are you kidding me?” glance.

“Ees dis okay to turn on zee light?” one of them shouted in our direction.

 “I mean—“ I started.

“Tanks!”

Chips were clipping and splashing on the table and a joyous time was had by all those Amster-damn people who ruined our movie.

“Sven, you have tree fours!”

“Hello, I dooo! Effrey-body dance! Haw haw haw haw haw!!!!”

We missed the end of our movie.They missed the memo that you don’t interrupt four guys enjoying a Seth Rogan comedy. I miss our hall before these Lost Boys flew in from the Netherlands.

Sharing a floor with those people stinks worse than a Dutch Oven.