A SIDEWAYS GLANCE AT ATLANTA : STYLISH HUISH CHATS UP CHELSEA.

Justin Huish dominates.

The 21-year-old archer from Simi Valley is everywhere. There's Justin on Leno. There's Justin on ESPN. There's Justin in Time magazine.

Wednesday, Justin rapped with First Kid Chelsea Clinton.

The president's 17-year-old daughter, a high school senior, has been rooting for Americans everywhere at the Games and had breakfast with about a thousand of her newest and closest friends Wednesday morning.

As she and her small entourage headed for the door, up stepped a genuine and definitely the coolest Olympic dude - Huish, captain of the archery team.

Sporting long sideburns, his trademark backward baseball cap and wraparound sunglasses perched on top, the Huishster spoke.

``I met her last week when she and her mom and dad visited us at the athletes' village,'' Huish said afterward. ``I asked her where her dad was. She said, `He's back in Washington.' I said, `Oh, what's he doing, saving the free world?' ''

Chelsea said she couldn't make it to archery next week, even though Huish said he could get her tickets if she needed them.

``It was a pleasure to talk with her,'' Huish said of their five-minute chat. ``She seemed nice and very kind-hearted.''

Chelsea's assessment of her Olympic experience thus far: ``It's been terrific.''

Prince puts reputation

on the line

Two Spanish journalists were sitting in a sports bar in the downtown Marriott hotel the other night when they noticed the heir to the Spanish throne sitting at a corner table having a libation.

Prince Felipe, who was a yachtsman in the Barcelona Olympics, was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

One of the journalists scribbled a message on a napkin and sent it over.

``Dear Felipe, Two of your countrymen are here and would like to challenge you to a game of Pop-a-Shot,'' the message read, referring to the mechanical basketball foul-shot game seen in many bars.

Moments later, the future Spanish king was standing at the foul-shooting game, firing away. He shouldn't give up his day job, they said.

Fizz fuss: Flack goes better with Coke

During the opening ceremonies, why did Roberta Flack sing ``Georgia on My Mind,'' instead of Ray Charles, who is far better known for signing that tune?

Hint: When in doubt, look for the guiding hand of that all-powerful Atlanta-based soda company.

Word is, Coca-Cola Co., the most prominent of all Olympic sponsors, didn't want Charles, a spokesman for arch rival Pepsi, to perform in front of the world audience.

Coke articulated its objection and Atlanta organizers made the substitution, or so the story goes. Coke categorically denies the story.

So do Olympic officials, who say no way there was any such corporate intervention into the hallowed ceremonial opening of the games. Remember though, that protest is coming from an organization that up until the last minute was willing to let GM parade 30 Chevrolet trucks, ignoring the century-old ban on advertisements inside Olympic stadiums.

VOICES

The ligaments in her left ankle painfully torn, Kerri Strug composed herself and vaulted into Olympic lore in Tuesday night's women's team finals. And Wednesday morning found discussion of her feat on the minds of many.

``I knew with Dominique falling on both vaults, the gold was slipping away. . . . I felt I owed it to the team. . . . This is the Olympics. This is what you dream about from when you're 5 years old.''

- Kerri Strug

``I said to her, `We need it. We need it.' She told me, `All right. All right.' ''

- U.S. coach Bela Karolyi

``She showed what courage is all about. She put the team before herself. She's a true competitor and a team player. She's a national hero.''

- Burt Strug, Kerri's father

``If that would have been my daughter, I would have punched Bela Karolyi in his big, fat face.''

- Bill Benner, The Indianapolis Star

``If I were 18 and I had trained all the days I could remember for the Olympics . . . I would make the vault. . . I would be like Kerri Strug. At least I hope I would.''

- Chuck Culpepper, Lexington Herald-Leader 

``Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Where was the outcry when Willis Reed hobbled onto the court in 1970? When Ronnie Lott had a piece of his finger amputated so he could play football? When a lame Kirk Gibson stepped up to the plate to face Dennis Eckersley in the '88 World Series? Those are the moments from which legends are carved.''

- Ann Killion, San Jose Mercury News 

SOURCE: Daily News Staff and Wire Services

Lifetime chance or total buss-off?

ATLANTA - Ralph Kramden probably would have stayed home.

But many other bus drivers came here from across the country to work the Olympics because of the opportunity for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

How do they feel about being an integral part of a transportation machine that is constantly in need of repair?

``It's still been an exciting time,'' said Mildred Wilson of St. Louis.

While the transportation situation has been hellish for tourists and journalists, it has been no joy ride for the folks who left their comfy jobs in small towns to come here and battle traffic in vehicles they've never encountered before.

``They had us drive here from Ames, Iowa, almost nonstop,'' said Elaine Lee, a school-bus driver who hails from that mid-America locale, where, she said, the tallest building is 10 stories high. She was hired along with several of her colleagues and then asked to drive from Iowa to Atlanta almost without a break.

``Some of the people here aren't used to driving six, eight hours straight without going to the bathroom,'' she explained. ``Some of the men came out with wet spots on their pants. And the closer we got to Atlanta, the fewer bathrooms were open, because all the businesses on the highway closed up when they saw all the traffic coming.''

Ann Bauer of St. Louis said the drivers were assigned rooms in a college dormitory outside of Atlanta. They had to buy their own sheets and towels from a Wal-Mart, since the ones given to them ``were so threadbare you could almost see through them.''

The rooms did not have phones or televisions, either. ``They finally agreed to let us connect to phone lines,'' Bauer said, ``but they said we'd have to get our own phones and rent our own TVs. Some of the drivers before us who quit had to sleep on cement floors.''

And then there's the matter of training.

Basically, the folks organizing the Olympics in Atlanta handed everyone a map and said, ``Get going!''

``We had one and a half hours of actual driving training,'' said Kay Brown of St. Louis, whose experience is limited to shuttle vans and school buses. She said all the drivers were asked to show they could do figure-eights in a parking lot. Then they graduated to an actual jaunt along downtown streets.

``We're school-bus drivers. We don't have any experience with transit buses,'' Bauer said.

They'd better get some.

Actually, the biggest beef among most of the new bus drivers is down time. They will each receive $85 per day for 20 days, as long as they stay for the duration; about 50 or so drivers already went home. But they're bored.

``They have enough drivers,'' Bauer said. ``They don't have enough buses.''

``All the sitting and waiting is frustrating,'' Wilson said.

But despite it all, most of the drivers seem glad they came.

``This is a hodgepodge,'' Brown said. ``This is what the U.S. is about; everybody coming together and trying to get along.''

e-mail from Atlanta To get good advice, forget about `nice,'

take `rude' in a trice

Nice people here in Atlanta. Real nice. Too nice. Ever see ``The Stepford Wives''?

Walk through a metal detector. ``Good morning, sir!'' Have my bags inspected. ``Could you open that, please, sir?'' Walk by a total stranger. ``How are you today?''

This is nice. Nice people are nice.

Need directions. Maybe I'll ask one of the nice people.

``Excuse me,'' I say, ``could you tell me the way to the nearest shuttle stop?''

``You know,'' a young man says, ``I don't know. Sir.''

All the volunteers dress the same. They all have gaudy shirts and nice blue watches. They're all anxious and willing to help.

``I'm afraid I don't know, sir.''

``No, I really couldn't tell you. Maybe he knows.''

I can tell you right now. He doesn't.

Doesn't anybody know? Isn't there a rude smart person around here?

Try an experiment. Walk from the first-floor entrance of the press center to the third floor. Count how many nice Olympic volunteers are nice to me.

I count six.

Now another experiment. I ask volunteers where I can find information on the Olympic Arts Festival.

``The what?'' Strike one!

``The Olympic Arts Festival. Hmmm. Sure that's here in Atlanta?'' Strike two!

``Yes. You have to go downstairs and ask someone at the `Help' desk.'' Ball, outside.

Go to ``Help'' desk. ``Here you go!'' Hands me a pamphlet.

Home run! That was nice.

Have a nice day.

Cyberscribe.

SOURCE: Michael Ventre

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos

Photo: (1-2) ``I said, `Hey, Chelsea,' and she said `Hey ,' and asked what's my sport. I told her archery and she said, `That's cool.' ''

- Simi Valley's Justin Huish

(3) no caption (Bus driver fixing tire)