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What I Learned at the Games

The Big 'O' has been over for over three weeks now, and the flashbacks just keep coming. Games time was such a blur it was kinda like January to April in 60 seconds.
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The Big 'O' has been over for over three weeks now, and the flashbacks just keep coming.

Games time was such a blur it was kinda like January to April in 60 seconds. I still find myself thinking that Valentines Day is around the corner, and the flowers poking up through the dirt are way too early. Did that winter really just happen?

But wasn't it great? It was like one big hairy 1960s love-in without the acid. There was so much goodwill, joy and "I love you man's," and it still makes we want to break out in a rousing rendition of 'Koombaya.'

Hippie references aside, I loved it, man.

Thank God, because after all that build-up I was ready to lose it. A month before the games started, I just wanted them to be over.

It was a lot to get used to all at once. Closed parking lots and closed roads. You couldn't just "pop" into Creekside for milk (which was 20 per cent more expensive seemingly overnight). The whole concept of just "popping" was over. Except for those stee-oopid yellow pylons on the road that kept popping up for no apparent reason other than to hinder snow clearing and quick passage of emergency vehicles.

Driving at night was particularly treacherous. The myriad of old lines and new ones were confusing, and when the Olympic lane coming into Whistler opened up, I was almost taken out several times by a bus or VANOC vehicle traveling in the second lane that I was totally unaccustomed to.

I jealously said goodbye to a whole slew of friends who left town to avoid the inconvenience and waited for the shitshow to begin.

But then everything miraculously started to work and, as anyone who was here knows, the town was swept up in such a euphoric vibe that even the most bitter naysayer became an enthusiastic participant.

And it was so representative of our province. I mean, when the torch looks like a flaming joint and the podium resembles a gathering of stumps in a clear-cut it just screams, "British Columbia, baby!"

Now I feel sorry for all the people that left, even if they came back with fabulous tans.

And now while in the midst of rip-roaring Party Three, the WSSF, I've compiled a list entitled: "Things I Learned at the Winter Olympics."

So before I get swept up in this new round of partying and forget everything, here it is:

 

Transit Can Be Fun!

I'm guilty of rarely taking the bus, so this public transportation concept was hard for me to wrap my head around. I had a job entertaining at Whistler Olympic Park, and then I realized that to get there on time I'd have to get up at five in the morning.

I was pissed.

That on top of the fact that I live in Bayshores and had to backtrack all the way to the village to catch the bus really steamed my shorts.

But then I would see the spectators loading onto the bus waving flags, donned in colourful costumes and singing various anthems and the dark cloud over my head would dissipate. I stopped muttering under my breath at what a pain in the ass this all was and joined in the merry banter on the bus.

I met people from all over the world who oddly in that 'six degrees of separation' way knew someone that I did. It was weird and wonderful.

But my favourite experience was when one night when a loud, happy group of people got on the bus heading to the village. The leader of their pack said, "So, which of the five reservations we made at different restaurants should we keep?"

Shorts a-steaming again, I couldn't help but say something about this huge no-no.

Fearlessly I piped up.

"Did someone just say they've made five reservations but they're only keeping one? Wow. I hate to say it, but that's just not on."

Instead of engaging in an argument, they let me lecture them politely on why it's rude to leave any restaurant holding onto a bogus reservation.

They thanked me for the etiquette lesson, had me sing the Canadian national anthem and took my picture.

Any other time than the Olympics and I would likely have been killed.

 

Lady Bus Drivers from Chicago are Cool

As mentioned before, backtracking to the village was a real pain. I could see why they did it going to the venue but coming back the buses were not allowed to stop anywhere before Whistler Village. Not wanting to spend an extra hour and a half commuting for no good reason, I thought I'd give it a shot and ask the bus driver if they could drop me off in Creekside, just steps away from my home.

Second day, female bus driver from Chicago with great accent, answers like this:

"Oh ma'am, Ahm so sawry, but I just cain't... But hold on a minute! Ahm a woman! And we all know woman cain't be trusted! Of course I can drop you off darlin'!"

Third day, different bus driver, answer is no.

See what I mean?

 

Europeans Have Excellent Tickle Trunks

It was my job to entertain at the Olympic Park during breaks in the action. The other performers and I would go to the green room, don our costumes and get psyched up to wow the spectators.

We'd head out, ready to entertain an undoubtedly appreciative and enthusiastic throng, spreading love and joy throughout the venu... but then, oddly, nobody seemed to notice us. We looked around and realized that the mostly European crowd had better costumes than we did. We looked almost boring in comparison.

I'm still trying to figure out how the three ladies in giant hoop skirts made it on the bus...

 

You Really Need to Love the Biathlon...

...in order to go to the biathlon, especially with children. This lesson was learned by a mother who schlepped her kids to the stadium - a long, arduous, uphill trek. Upon arriving she met a friend holding her child clutch-style in one hand, and a well deserved beer in the other.

"I should take a picture of you and send it to Parent Magazine as a 'What Not To Do."

"What?" said the friend. "Drink in front of your children?"

"No. Bring small children to the Olympics."

 

Everyone Cries At The Olympics

Even men. During the opening ceremonies I witnessed every man in the room bawling like witto babies. At least I think I did. I couldn't really tell as my face was buried in a Kleenex for most of it. I don't think of myself as a big crier and I wasn't ready for this flood of emotion (I'm more stoic, like Lilith from Cheers). I don't cry during sad movies, or at emotional telephone "I love you, mom" commercials.

Even when that schleppy 'I Believe' song came on I teared up like Tammy Faye Baker, regardless of the fact that I vowed to throw myself off a bridge if I ever heard the lyrics, "spread my wings and fly" in a song ever again.

When that other opening song came on before events, I cried.

Everytime I walked through the village and there was a concert on and people were having an incredible time, I misted up.

Watching an athlete accept their medal? Gone!

And especially now, walking by the memorial of Nodar Kumaritashvili with the flowers and notes of condolences. Yup, crying right now!

 

A Cool Olympic Jacket Can Really Change Your Attitude.

Not one to get caught up in fashion fads I was surprised when I found myself stalking that black quilted Canada jacket. I went online in November and found it continuously sold out. I went to the Olympic store a couple of times a day and actually looked on eBay. Then, it miraculously appeared. My birthday was coming up so I commanded my boyfriend to run, not walk to the store. By the time he got there, there was only one left, and they never came in again.

I was one very lucky girl, indeed.

I tried it on and said out loud, "Get -A- Load- Of -Me! I am positively FIERCE in this jacket!"

My chest puffed out even more, I sucked in my cheeks (and stomach) and strutted like a runway model every time I wore it. To this day, people still stop me on the street and ask me where they can get it. "You can't," I say, "It's completely sold out."

I relish in the power.

 

The License Plates Are Right

When the Olympic plates came out I thought they were a little arrogant. How can you say that your area is the "Best Place On Earth"? Friends who were avoiding the Olympics in various parts of the world said they never felt more proud of this place than when they were away, and people asked them, "Does it really look like that? Is that digitally enhanced or something? It can't be that beautiful!"

It is.

 

Guys in Wheelchairs Dance Better Than Standing Guys .

This lesson learned by a friend of mine who worked at athletes' village for the Paralympics. I have no idea why, but apparently it's a fact.

Physically, I Have Nothing To Complain About. NOTHING.

While cooking for the Norwegian Paralympic Team I was having a lot of lower back pain from standing for long hours. My friend and co-cook came into the kitchen complaining that her ribs that had popped out and she was in a lot of pain. As I stood there trying to stretch my back out she then said, "Look at us, we're wrecks, we should just take the day off..."

Just then, Hans (double amputee athlete) walked by us, whistling and smiling and getting ready to ski about 30 km of cross country trails. We shut up and went back to work.

 

The Olympics Can Change Your Life

Travis Talbot from the Points West Group, which includes the Players Chophouse in Creekside, reluctantly came to Whistler last winter hoping it would be a temporary gig.

"I didn't want to come up here, after working in places like Boston, Miami and Fort Lauderdale I thought this was a tree-hugging hick town."

Originally, he was only supposed to be in Whistler for only two days a week, but he's been here full time for 18 months. Clearly this little backwater town grew on him.

"I was really struck by the sense of community here. Everyone is involved in something. But it's not an easy place to get to know people. Locals don't trust that you're going to stay here, it's such a fly-by-night place. They're harder on you than your family is, but ultimately more forgiving..."

Travis was impressed with Whistler's community spirit and got involved by hosting many fundraisers at the Chophouse. "Each event seemed to be more entertaining than the last, no matter what group they were," he says.

If he was impressed with the Whistler spirit he was even more impressed with the international spirit when the Olympics rolled into town.

(What Travis also learned at the Olympics is that "12 hours of work is a half day and I earned that gold medal in gin consumption!")

Then he had a life-changing epiphany, without the crisis. "I was standing on the peak of the mountain, at the peak of my career and decided to give it all up."

Travis decided to quit his job and travel from town to town doing volunteer community work, starting in B.C. and eventually making his way around the world. He'll immerse himself in the community he happens to be in and simply pitch in and help people, whatever need is greatest in that town.

How did Travis come to the realization that he would become a male Angelina Jolie? (Well, there are similarities between Travis and Angelina. He is also criminally attractive and has tattoos.)

"There's just a lot more to life than working and making money," he says simply.

Telling his boss that he was quitting his job to help people was interesting.

My boss said, "Who in god's name would give up a promising career to do charitable work? Who I ask you? Who? Why would you choose to be homeless and unemployed? Aren't you scared of failure?"

"How can I fail at being homeless and unemployed?" Travis replied.

Ultimately his boss did not let him quit and has given him a new job as Vice President of Business Development and Director of Culinary Operations, which will still give him the freedom to do his community work.

"So yes, I quit and got a promotion."

He's giving away all his worldly goods to a single mom and hitting the road in June, but not before he hosts another fundraiser for WAG called "The Wake, a Travisty of a Sendoff."

(The Chophouse on April 27, be there.)

I ask him if he knows any other languages for his international leg of the trip.

"Right now I speak Bar Talk, Drunkenese and Bad English, but I'm prepared to learn."

 

Hockey is Truly, Truly Canadian

When the gold medal hockey game came around, I knew it was important. Just not how insanely, incredibly important. Personally, I couldn't even bring myself to watch it because it made me so nervous. During the game I walked my dogs. Our neighbourhood was so quiet it was surreal. Unable to completely stay away from the TV, I turned it on just in time to see the Americans tie it up. I wailed in despair and took the dogs out again to the Whistler golf course.

As we were strolling along in the sun, we heard the cheer. I breathed out a huge sigh of relief and said, "We got it."

A few minutes later, a lone figure holding a huge Canadian flag walked out to the middle of the golf course and waved it slowly back and forth.

And I started blubbering again.

My friend who was watching the game in Mexico told me the locals asked, "Is your country going to self combust if you don't win this thing? Will there be massive mourning? Economic meltdown?"

Yes.

Another friend, when I asked him if a win was really that important, concurs.

"Really?" I said. "If the Americans won wouldn't we have congratulated them and gone on with our lives?"

No.

As he put it, "If the ice dancers didn't get the gold, I wasn't about to go out and roll cars but if we lost at hockey?"

Yes."

 

Russians Really Do Know Their Vodka

While tasting vodka in the Liquor Store, a Russian man sidled up to the tasting station and we had a toast together.

"Ya, dis is good, but it needs to be colder. Geev me 'nother taste...(sip) ya,ya, it need to be at least 3.742 degrees colder. Here, you try again."

I sipped it again and completely agreed with him. I had to - he was huge.

 

Family Is Great, But Only For Awhile.

This from my friend who put up her siblings for 17 days:

"At first it was great, you know, like a good Christmas. Everyone pitches in and it's like a party for a while. First few days everyone is polite and mannerly, and then slowly it reverts back to when you were growing up. Your big brother picks on you, he walks around in his boxers shorts picking his nose and your sister steals all your clothes. And no one, no one does the dishes."

 

For me, there were lots of other little things I learned like 'Sorels Are Heavy', 'Shopping in Bulk is Just Smart', 'I Really Can Get Up Early!' and my favourite, 'Even Non Athletes Have To Train For The Olympics!'

But now we're trained, we're going to get through Party Number Three, like it was a cocktail party! We have partied and partied harder than ever before. We are ready for anything. But most of all,

"We...Are... Canadian!!!!!"

Get out there and have some fun people.

 

 



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