I may never remove my media accreditation badge from around my neck... ever.

Ron and I arrived today and settled into our new home in the Huiyuan Media Village by 7 p.m. Thursday in Beijing after a long and uneventful 13-hour flight from Toronto. So a friendly "nee how" to you as I write this from the 17th floor of our apartment with the Bird's Nest National Stadium in plain view out the living room window.

And, unfortunately, not much else. There are some lights on at one of the Olympic venues, but at this point, without being familiar with the layout, it's hard to tell which sport it will house. Other than that, the sightlines are very poor tonight because of the fog. Or is it smog? Having just arrived, it's hard to tell the difference at this point.

Although it's a safe bet that it is smog hovering around the tops of all of the tall buildings off in the distance. The roof of my mouth feels like I just slid into second base... head first. It's a gritty film left after a long day at the ballpark.

Back to the accreditation passes.

Since stepping off the plane and walking through the airport in Beijing, we have been treated like royalty. Kids appearing to be old enough to be in university immediately recognized our passes and came to greet us, motioning and escorting us through to have our passports checked. After picking up our luggage, security guards standing watch over escalators quickly parted and greeted us with ear-to-ear smiles, motioning us past long lines.

Somebody standing off to the side muttered, "They must be important." If they only knew the truth.

Volunteers loaded our luggage onto the shuttle for the media village, and on the way, a nice young girl asked us if the temperature on board was OK. How can you not like that kind of treatment?

But it gets better.

The trip to the media village was quick, the result of an Olympic lane reserved strictly for shuttles. Passengers on other buses looked long and hard at our bus as we passed by, no doubt trying to get a good look at the foreigners who have invaded their country.

There was lots of traffic. Perhaps it was rush hour as we passed through around 5:30 p.m. Makes me wonder what the gridlock would be like if the rest of the cars that were supposedly taken off the road were part of the stop and go.

Upon arrival at the media village, a group of three guys were clamoring to get our luggage off the shuttle, place it on a trolley, and escort us to our room. A young hostess opened the door for us and took the time to show us how the keys opened the doors to the bedrooms. It was no different than at home, but the gesture was appreciated.

Everyone is super friendly with big smiles and ready to spring to our aid. It's the sort of spoiled treatment a guy could get used to.