A food play in two parts

Here's what you get in the press center at the Gangneung Ice Arena when you order a sausage...

Notice a couple of things:

1. It's not a sausage; it's a hot dog. It is a larger-than-average-size hot dog, but that doesn't make it a sausage. You know what would make it a sausage? It being a sausage. But that's not what it is.
2. It seems to be missing something. Hmm, what could it be? Oh, that's right...A FUCKING BUN.

They give you a sausage -- that's not a sausage at all -- without a bun, meaning you have to eat this oversized wiener with your hands. I have no idea how they could miss the mark by that much.

I should say that none of this stopped me from wolfing it down (I was ravenously hungry...everyone's always starving at the Olympics, except the athletes and NBC staff, whose catering spread is legendary), but I didn't feel good about myself afterward.

And here's what I got for dinner, at a restaurant around the corner from my hotel, for less than $10...

That's fresh-ass fish. That's a bowl of sushi bibimbap. That's miso soup. That's all EXACTLY what the waitress told me came with my meal. (Not pictured: the four pieces of salmon sashimi the chef made for me out of the goodness of his heart. Bless that man.)

I will be coming back to this place. A lot.

The lesson: The Olympics does a lot of things well. Bringing the world together. Providing entertaining competition. Fostering a sense of sportsmanship among its participants.

One thing it does not do well? Food.

Get your act together, Olympics. Some of us are famished out here.