The events of February didn’t leave me with much to bitch about. I didn’t mind working 10 hours a day scrubbing Starbucks’ toilet, or even riding in the heatless, airless “death” shuttle to get there.

Luckily, however, as I often rely on the irritating to write a column, I worked right next to a Roots store, or, should I say, behind the line to the Roots store. Eureka?a spectacle of human behavior that was almost awe-inspiring to behold.

Everyday I walked past a line of people that spread down half of Park City’s Main Street. Amidst great?and warm?restaurants, galleries, entertainment stages and, for God sakes, Bud World, these people chose to freeze their asses off for a beret.

At around 4 a.m. each day, a line to the store began to form, a Roots manager told me. Alright, maybe 4 a.m. for concert tickets, but for a fleece hat?!

Amazingly, almost a month after the Games began, people are still waiting in line for fleece hats. The line has gone down quite a bit from its Olympic length, but the fact it even still exists boggles the mind. One man I talked to drove from Las Vegas to visit the store. Another woman was back a second time after waiting in the 50-mile long Olympic line; apparently she just couldn’t get enough.

Somehow, these people don’t seem to mind the wait as long as they get their hands on some quality Canadian goods with a U.S.A. logo. They chat with fellow Roots enthusiasts, sip on hot chocolate or perhaps an apple cider, and some even do a little pin trading.

Not everyone has such patience, though, and those folks made the scene downright ugly at times. The stories of how desperate some of them really were range from bad to worse. I have a few friends who work in the Park City and Gateway Roots stores, and it is too bad Jay Leno never caught wind of the stories they told me. Here are a few stories, seen and heard, from my close encounter with the Roots madness.

Fleece Black Market

A co-worker of mine had a few berets of his own, which people must have seen him bring in to Starbucks where I work. Within minutes, some kind of underground beret deal was going on at the corner of the espresso bar. People would creep over to my coworker and say, “So, uh (clears throat), I hear you have the beret.”

I am not kidding.

Coffee, Tea or Me

A Roots employee at Gateway said that she was offered everything from money to sexual favors in an attempt to purchase more than the limited amount of berets.

One middle-aged man, according to the employee, winked at her suggestively at the register. After quickly informing him that such behavior would not score him an extra beret, he said, “Well, I’m married, so I can’t make you my best offer, but that could be arranged.”

Insert “Pyscho” theme music here.

Surfin’ U.S.A.

The same employee also told me a story that is almost too pathetic for words. One woman showed up with her young children, all of whom were wearing T-shirts, tank tops and shorts, well after the store had closed. Standing, and surely freezing, outside, she motioned for an employee to open the door. The manager went out to talk to the woman, who claimed that she and her children were on their way to the airport to go back home to California. The children were politely whining, “Oh please miss, let us in. We are so cold and we just want to warm up.”

Not buying the whole Tiny Tim ploy, the manger told the woman that she couldn’t allow her to enter the store, but she would send the item the woman wanted to her home in California. The woman agreed, selected her items, and wrote down her Logan, Utah, address.

The Crowd Gets Ugly

Never a dull moment passed at the Gateway store, where one day a full brawl (or should I say a riot so Utah looks “cool”) ensued. Apparently a few in the crowd became violent after U.S. Olympic hockey players and their families were allowed to bypass the “great wall of idiots” line. The store’s bouncers (bouncers!) broke things up.

Who’s Your Daddy?

A Park City employee told me of one instance where a woman broke into tears at the cash register because she didn’t know if she wanted to buy a bomber jacket. Her wrinkly, sugar daddy boyfriend insisted that she just buy the damn $400 dollar jacket and get on with it. Their bill ended up around $900 dollars? boo hoo.

Jennifer welcomes feedback at: [email protected].