Communication breakdown

After covering the men’s four-man bobsled final Saturday night, I experienced the joys and woes of communication.

As I was waiting with three journalists for a table at La Cabassa in Cesana Torinese, I met the mother of U.S. bobsled driver Steve Holcomb, who competed in his first Olympics here. I asked if he would be joining her for dinner, and she said no, that she wouldn’t get to see him until Sunday morning.

So I shared with her what Steve had told me after the race. He said that he was thrilled to finish 6th, and mentioned that his coach, Brian Shimer who won a bronze at the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics, had told him he had finished 7th in his first Olympics in 1988.

“I guess that means that I’ll win a bronze in 15 years,”? Steve joked.

“Steve said that?”? his mom said. “Oh, thank you for telling me!”?

I felt great to have passed on this news. Unfortunately the good feeling didn’t last.

After we got our table, we all ordered salads, two of us ordered pizzas, one opted for a calzone and I ordered some pasta.

Five minutes later — before any of us had received our salads, a different waiter appeared with a plate of pasta. I waved him away, saying that it wasn’t mine. Another waiter came back a few minutes later with the pasta. Again, I said no, it’s not mine.

A few moments later we got our salads. Then the pizzas and calzone arrived. But my pasta was nowhere in sight. The four of us quickly surmised what had happened. In Italy, they typically eat pasta before the salad. So that had been my pasta.

I finally flagged down my waiter, and said, “I think I made a mistake.”?

He said, “Si,”? and moved on to another table.

Then he did what all good Italian waiters do — he disappeared.

By the time I found him, my companions had nearly cleaned their plates.

Eventually I did get my dinner. And my colleagues were patient and kind enough to wait for me.

Lesson learned — never refuse a plate of pasta, no matter when it arrives.