Holding yellow batons and thumping them in unison, an entire section of Chinese laladui, volunteers specially trained to cheer athletes, yell jia you, or good luck, as each marathon runner enters the Bird’s Nest. I'm behind them watching with curiosity as their leader conducts choreographed moves. Little do I know, moments later I will be stuck in that sea of yellow t-shirts, the laladui all asking me to pose with them in an ambush orchestrated by the conductor.

This morning at the women's marathon I thought it would be a great idea to try to talk my way into an all-Chinese section right on the first level next to the track. I wanted to get some close-up shots of these cheerleaders, all regular citizens, who have spent months and many hours in lectures learning the Beijing 2008 Olympic cheers. From afar, these guys look like sea anemones swaying in the stadium, an impressive image of pride.

I was not the only foreigner in the section. There was a Japanese couple standing with a Japanese flag that said, "Peace" above the red dot. I was hoping to get an informal interview but, as I stepped back to take a picture of them, two guys behind me tapped my shoulder and asked if I would take a picture. Sure, I said, and reached for their cameras. They shook their heads and said the wanted me in it, too.

In less touristy places in China it isn't unusual to be approached by young people who want pictures of themselves with a laowai, or foreigner. Although I wasn't expecting it here in the Bird's Nest, I obliged. Before I could say qie zi, the Chinese equivalent to cheese, a loud voice from behind boomed, "Can I have a picture please?" It was the head honcho, the conductor of the laladui. He told me his name was Walter. Even after we shook hands and talked briefly, Walter didn't say much about his job. Judging by the fervor with which he thrust out his chest it was clear he likes it. He repeatedly told me, "Beijing welcomes you," even though I kept reminding him that I lived here.

The next fifteen minutes was a bit of a blur. Worried about offending somebody, I obliged to the ten or so requests to pose with Chinese cheerleaders. Fair game, I figured, I was in their section after all. This spectacle reminded me once again of how badly so many Chinese people want to be seen as open to the world. Once outside the stadium I let out of a sigh relief. But then, coming up behind me, a young woman asked me to pose with her young baby. It will bring good luck, she told me.

I‘ve been thinking, I should hold up a sign that says, "Will pose for tickets."