I took the job for the money, not even thinking that it could turn into a worthwhile experience.

Being editor in chief of the Olympic Record, the newspaper of the Athletes’ Village, might sound cool, until you hear that the Salt Lake Organizing Committee has a host of censors lined up to make sure you don’t draw outside the lines.

For a journalism student used to the freedom afforded him by working at The Daily Utah Chronicle, getting stories picked apart by public relation artists isn’t exactly appealing.

But how else was I going to pay the rent during February?

I know this sounds overly cynical and really it turned out to be overly cynical. While I don’t look at the Olympic Record as the crowning achievement of my young journalism career, I do look at my experience in the Olympic Village as one of the most meaningful in my young life.

Past the thousands of security personnel and SLOC handlers was an alternate world that seems to spring from a happy episode of the Twilight Zone.

Countries and states were scaled down to buildings and dorm rooms. Everyone wore their country name on their back. Money was replaced by Olympic pins. Politics was non existent between the athletes themselves.

It was a dream world, inhabited by superhumans. And my job was to walk around and bug the athletes. My job was to talk to them, get their stories and share them with their fellow Olympians. Now, that is a pretty good Olympic job. Once I was able to deal with the fact that it was by no stretch journalism, I truly had an amazing experience.

Growing up in the homogenous state of Utah, it was a treat to see people from 77 different countries interacting.

I observed both the Chinese and Korean New Year celebrations. I saw the Korean delegation observe ancient traditions involving ceremonial food, incense and the reading of a text. Two minutes later they sang happy birthday to a speed skater. It sounded just like my family singing happy birthday, only the words were Korean.

I saw a Korean skeleton athlete and a Indian luger rekindle a friendship started in Nagano four years earlier.

I saw a Chinese alpine skier play a speed skater from the Netherlands in video games. They poked fun at each other and laughed, but they could only shake hands when it was all over. Neither knew how to say “good game” in the other’s language.

The good will athletes showed each other caught me off guard. I guess I just didn’t think about it. In fact, the whole experience caught me off guard.

I met medalists and I interviewed world champions, but the most interesting stories for me came from the athletes who traveled to Salt Lake City, not in search of a medal, but just to participate in the largest winter sporting event in the world.

Stories like that of Philip Boit, a cross country skier from Kenya, who participated in his second Olympics. He didn’t get to see his newly born baby girl until after he competed in the 10 kilometer classic. He then traveled home and held Olympia, named after the Salt Lake Games, for the first time.

Stories like that of Brazilian luger Renato Mizoguchi who talked to his mother for the first time in 23 years after she saw him on a television program.

Stories like that of Ildiko Strehli of Hungary who has survived breast cancer twice and became one of the first female bobsledders to participate in the Olympics.

These tales, though they sound like they were made for NBC, have incredible power when you are talking face to face with the person.

Within the Olympic Village, these people, with their incredible stories, are the norm.

The place felt isolated from the competitions themselves and all of the talk surrounding the Games. The judging scandals and the like had little impact on life in the Village. The biggest Village scandal probably involved over-eager volunteers out on the hunt for team pins.

Access to many of the places like the eating areas, game rooms or the Internet cafes, were restricted, which is always frustrating.

The eating situation was also not so neat. There is something totally demeaning about walking through the back door of the McDonald’s to get served, even when it is free. The SLOC handlers wanted to make sure no one bothered the all-important athletes.

But these are the biggest gripes I can come up with.

Before these Games started I heard rumors of massive orgies in the Village at Atlanta. I heard that I would witness utter chaos started by athletes partying after they finished competing. What I witnessed was a docile and polite place where one Great Britain athlete was totally taken aback by how friendly people were.

She said if one person said hello to you on the streets of London they were probably nuts, but in the Village everyone said hello to everyone who walked by.

I saw the Village from a perspective very few others witnessed. I saw the athletes in their rooms. I saw them working out in the fitness center or drinking coffee in the Village coffee house.

It was an unforgettable experience. Let’s just hope the Paralympic Village has a similar atmosphere.

Oh yeah, and the pay was nice too.

Matt welcomes feedback at: [email protected] or send letters to: [email protected].