7th Olympics and Still No Medal for Guyton

Also no Pulitzer, no Nobel, no bestseller. Not even a MacArthur genius grant.

Claire Guyton fell in love with ice dancing in 1984, while watching legendary ice dancers Torvill and Dean deliver the world’s best skate. That routine hadn’t been topped in 26 years of competition. And then Guyton did the impossible, last night, just after Russians Domnina and Shabalin completed their original dance. Moreover, she accomplished this feat while crammed into the corner of her living room couch and suffering the extremely distracting snores of her husband.

Tell it to the judges. Despite the most exquisite routine any fan of ice dancing could possibly imagine—despite actually taking flight in her fantasy ice dance—Claire Guyton remains unacknowledged at the Olympic games in Vancouver. “I have napped so hard,” Guyton said when she interviewed herself in the bathroom mirror this morning. “I have put myself into the appropriate dream state countless times, envisioned routines that blister my nerves—what do the judges want?”

Apparently they want the athletes to actually perform. There, in Vancouver, on the ice. “I agree with the Italians,” Guyton said, while tweezing a rogue hair in her left eyebrow. “There’s far too much emphasis on technical skill.” Like knowing how to skate, competing, winning a place on the team, traveling to the Olympic village. Technicalities. Whereas that dance she did yesterday to her iPod favorites when she was supposed to be doing the dishes? Flawless. “I topped my personal best.”

Guyton attributes her lack of success in Olympic ice dancing to the same inexplicable black hole of anonymity that has prevented her from winning a Pulitzer and a Nobel. Despite her countless literary achievements—she once wrote 15 hours straight!—no one in the literary establishment has seen fit to grant her an award. Worse, these sniffy gatekeepers insist on a complete draft before they will even consider a manuscript for any of their fancy contests. All those gorgeous, unwritten stories—lost.

It may be time to give up the ice dancing but Guyton intends to stick with her writing. If Olympic gold is, then, forever out of reach, what would she most like to achieve? “I’d really love that Nobel in literature, but I’ll settle for a genius MacArthur grant” she said, then stopped brushing her hair to stare wistfully into her own eyes. “My mother always said I was a genius. And I do feel really, really smart.” 

Just like Yevgeny Plushenko feels like a gold medalist. Guyton believes Plushenko truly exemplifies the Olympic spirit by reaching out beyond the games to do a great service to the many miffed citizens of the world who feel entitled to rewards they haven’t earned. She believes he is the best current ambassador for all imagined victims who console themselves with self-congratulation. “I get Yevgeny Plushenko. And I thank him. He helps me understand that although I haven’t actually even completed a book-length manuscript, Oprah should still want to interview me and gush about my lyrical prose.”

She intends to learn from plucky Olympic loser Plushenko, who awarded himself a platinum medal on his website today. Tomorrow she will alter her standard submissions cover letter to include all the accolades she wishes she had earned. “He’s the role model I’ve been looking for” she said, before ending the interview so she could floss.