Except at this party, the pool is packed with a bunch of Adonises. And there's no need to worry about awkward, booze-soaked small talk as you attempt to make a "connection" with that Swedish soccer player before getting into her skivvies: everyone in the village innately has something in common. Whether they run, swing on the uneven bars, swim, throw javelins, or jump on trampolines (was anyone else not aware that this is an Olympic event?) -- everyone is the best of the best.
And they all go hard -- in training and in everything in life -- because that's how they qualified for the Olympics in the first place! So the Village is essentially this: a cesspool of exceptionally talented people in the physical prime of their lives looking to hook up, release their pent-up energy and excitement, and make some foggy, sweaty memories.
Getting down (under) and dirty
Panty-dropping accents aside, I imagine the Australian athletes are going to have an especially tough go at getting nookie in Rio. Even if you have six shots of tequila, 42 condoms in your nightstand, and Michelle Jenneke giving you the green light, leaking ceilings and foul stenches from clogged toilets don't exactly set the mood. Who would do the nasty in a room with plumbing conditions reminiscent of a dank motel off Highway 6? Not me -- and especially not an Olympic gymnast who wears glitter on her face.