By Rick Morrissey

LONDON -- People are nice. No, really, they are. That's why the Olympics are so good for a confirmed cynic like me. They don't reaffirm my faith in mankind. They tell to me to wake up and look around.

I was at the Opening Ceremony on Friday night, running on fumes after being up for 36 straight hours, thanks to travel. I looked like death microwaved on high for two minutes. Steve, an Austrian journalist who sat next to me at the ceremony, took pity and walked me in and out of the crowd for 45 minutes to the high-speed train that would take us to Kings Cross.

On the train, I met Jim, a marketing man from Wales whose wife is a wildlife photographer. He's been to the Arctic Circle (his wife was taking photos of polar bears) and must be good with directions, otherwise he'd be frozen to a glacier somewhere. He walked me several blocks, pointed me down the road and left me his card. It took me another 15 minutes and more huddling with strangers before I found my way to my hotel at 2 a.m. It was a nice adventure after a spectacular Opening Ceremony.

There was no pub open at that hour, which was probably a good thing. But, London? You've got to work on that.