The Olympic Torch Relay, orchestrated by the International Olympic Committee, begins its carbureted pilgrimage in Olympia, Greece, before turning its torchy gaze toward Rome. The procession, printed like a military parade, gathers a parade of dignitaries, including the usual purveyors of status: IOC chairs, city mayors, and a sprinkling of celebrity athletes passed over for the sake of glitter. The crowd—measured in a thousand‑plus, all clad in black‑list‑shackles of formal wear—creates a crumbling wall that, in the hands of the Minister, resembles a perfectly symmetrical step‑and‑repeat red. The velveteen access to the event is not, however, as easy as a sun‑kissed velvet rope would hint; street traffic in Athens drains and Rome’s meandering piazzas suffocates any real conversation. After a brief toast to patriotism, the audience slumps back into their opulent chairs, leaving the torch to burn in a sterile glow. Verdict: Send a check but stay home.