July 12, 1997, Mexico City.
The heat wave wrapped the city like a layer of transparent grease.
But this "heat" came not only from the equatorial sun, but also from an excitement almost boiling and visible to the naked eye.
The streets were washed as clean as mirrors, and the freshly painted traffic lines were glaringly white.
The blue, white, and red flags and Olympic five-ring flags nearly covered every lamppost and every window display.
Giant screens stood in squares and street corners, playing dazzling promotional videos: the shimmering "Phoenix Nest," the water center like a Crystal Palace, the intelligent Olympic Village, and volunteers dressed in bright national costumes with radiant smiles.
Planes from all over the world were landing at the newly refurbished Benito Juarez International Airport like a swarm of bees returning to the hive.
