TURIN, Italy -- Few things are worth losing your job over. The death of a loved one. A serious challenge of principles. Perhaps even an enormous assault of one's character.
For me, it's real simple: If I'm ever forced to watch compulsory ice dancing again, this is going to be one empty column hole.
If you've never seen it, don't. If you have seen it, I'm sorry. When death comes, you'll agonize thinking about the time you wasted watching it.
I'm far from dead but wish I could have the two hours of my life back that I spent watching the compulsory dance on Friday night.
In case you don't know what compulsory dance is, here's a good way to sum it up: Elton John's wardrobe unleashed, tuxedos and the same dance and song over and over and over and over. In fact, I think the elevator called during the competition asking for its music back.
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Ice dancing is a three-day event that begins with the compulsory, or as I've come to think of it, the one thing that will make me triple-lutz off the tallest building. Or wish I were covering NASCAR instead.
Jemele Hill
The Orlando Sentinel
