The story Larry Powell doesn’t want you to read

Larry explained his situation to the Chinese volunteer.
The volunteer smiled. Was it one of those, “Yeah, whatever pal” smiles or was it an “Everything’s going to be

The basketball statue outside. the venue. Was this where Larry's ticket went missing? Photo by Larry Powell.

all right” smile?

Turns out, it was just a smile.

“Please, wait one moment,” the volunteer said, then spoke Chinese into his headset.

So, we waited.

But that’s getting ahead of the story.

Monday in Beijing, Larry Powell and I headed down to the Basketball arena, clutching the two tickets we’d bought at face-value from Steve, our chance encounter from the states. The bus ride was uneventful. Actually, it was notable for it’s lack of crowds. We had seats the entire way and were even able to chat across the aisle.
We got to the venue, went through security and were wanded, something we’ve grown accustomed to by now.
Then, as we walked toward the arena, we stopped to take some photographs of a basketball statue outside.
We walked the remaining distance to the arena and prepared to go inside. And that’s when Larry realized he didn’t have his ticket.
Think.
We stopped. He had to have had it when we went through security. He wouldn’t have been passed through without it.
Think.
Retrace our steps. Back to the statue. Then back to the security tent. The wander hadn’t seen it.
Think.
Nobody would’ve stolen it, we reasoned. Everybody in the area had tickets or else they couldn’t have gotten in.
Think.
I clutched my ticket tighter.
Finally, we approached a couple of Chinese volunteers. Larry explained his situation.
The smile.
I asked the other volunteer if we’d be OK.
“Please, wait one moment,” he said.
Larry couldn’t speak. Later, he confessed that he felt like crying.
I pulled a couple Missouri School of Journalism pins out of my pocket. The volunteers accepted the small gift with more polite smiles.
“Come with me,” one said.
And then he…led…us…inside.
He handed us off to another volunteer who led us to our seats. We were dumbfounded. In America, we would’ve been told to “get lost.”
But we were inside watching Yao Ming.
Larry exhaled.
Amazing. Was it the fact that we’d already passed through security? Was it the fact that a grown man was about to cry? Was it the J-School pins?
Who can know?

There were some repercussions, however:

If either of us left our seats to get refreshments or go to the bathroom, he had to be sure to have the only remaining ticket stub in his hand.

Larry owes me two Olympic pins.

And his Beijing Olympics’ ticket-stub collection, no matter how much he begs, is one stub short.

- Greg Bowers

Outside the Olympic basketball venue in Beijing. Do you see Larry's ticket?