It’s a generic hotel lobby. Clouds of maroon, burnt sienna, orange, and beige form a flowery carpet. Textured beige wallpaper covers the walls, its pinstripes tuck perfectly into the fake, brown marble baseboards. Whoever designed this lobby was certainly not earth tone-deaf. Depressing art in a rustic, made-to-look-old, gold frame hangs on the wall, spotlit by a rectangular chandelier (Think Mission Hills Ballroom for those of you who can) that's too bright. Underneath the drab painting is a desk, made to look Chinese by its asymmetrical, interconnecting right angles. That seems to be the rule with foe Chinese stuff: take a normal piece of furniture and superimpose the map of the last level of Pac-Man onto it to make it look Chinese.

Beyond the lobby’s giant wooden doors, a press conference takes place. I’m seated in the second row, chosen to be there by Chen Ying, the project manager in the communications division of the Beijing Olympic volunteer department. Mr. Ying is a headhunter for foreign media. It’s his job to place sources in the hands of foreign media to enhance stories. Therefore, it would only make sense that when the volunteer ministers of the Beijing Organizing Committee (BOCOG) give a press conference, Mr. Ying finds American volunteers like myself to feed to the sharks.

I finish my second cup of cigar-flavored coffee before microphones and cameras bombard me, as well as questions in Chinglish.

They ask me how I like Beijing, why I wanted to become a volunteer, what my experience has been like thus far, etc. I think to myself, Does this shit really pass as journalism here? I guess so, because the next day my colleagues tell me they've seen my on the news. They said they laughed when I told the reporter my favorite part about Beijing was ordering dishes for my entire family at dinner, even though I was dining alone. They also liked when commenting on my living conditions I said I kept it so cold in my room that when I sneeze it snows.