Knowing I have to get up at an unconscionable hour invariably means that I'll wake up every hour to check the time.  The night before the Men’s Giant Slalom was no exception.  Combine that with knowing it's a travel day . . .  well, I probably shouldn't have tried to sleep at all. 
 
As I wrote in my first blog in this series, the only way to get to the venue (Whistler's Creekside) for the Men's Giant Slalom was by purchasing a ticket from the Olympic Bus Network.  With the event starting at 9:30 a.m., it was suggested that spectators be ready to board at 5:30 a.m.  So, I factored in an hour drive time to get to the bus departure hub, got up before 4 a.m., was dressed and out the door by 4:15 a.m.  Because there was no traffic and I had excellent directions from aaa.com, it only took 30 minutes to get to the hub.  Arriving early gave me the opportunity to board a bus that departed at 5 a.m.  The motor coach was almost full, but the seats at the back of the bus were unoccupied and had my name written on them (figuratively, not literally).  I was comfortable enough to catch a cat nap. 
 
Shortly after 7 a.m. we arrived in Whistler.  The venue was very quiet at that hour, although there were a few skiers taking practice runs.  Security personnel and volunteers were already at their posts ready to answer questions (and to keep the curious out of restricted areas).  I walked around for about an hour, stopped at the local Husky gas station to buy breakfast, and then headed to the race course.  Never attending a ski race of this scale, I was very curious about the logistics.  Passing through security was a breeze.  Just like the Canada Hockey Place, there were plenty of security personnel to process spectators.  After passing through security, we were ushered to the ski lift to head up the mountain. (After the race I was able to do something I have always wanted to do . . . ride DOWN the mountain on a chair lift.)  Lots of helpful volunteers showed spectators to their seats.  (Make a note to bring a blanket to sit on the next time -- the grandstands were aluminum and quite cold.)  

I sat down next to an older woman, noting that she had a knit hat from the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid.  After the perfunctory small talk she wondered if I was there to cheer someone special.  Then with pride she said that she was the grandmother of one of the racers – up and coming Olympic skier – Tommy Ford.  (Tommy finished 26th.)  In front of the grandstands and to the right was a giant screen where spectators could watch and listen to the race commentators, as well as see the racers at the top of the course.  The first run featured 103 racers representing more than 50 countries – from Cayman Islands to Iceland.  The youngest racer was 16-year old Manfred Oettl Reyes from Peru (finishing 67th); the oldest was Hubertus von Hohenlohe, a 51-year old representing Mexico (finishing 78th).  It took about two hours for all the racers to finish the first run.  Each skier was greeted with waving flags, the clanging of cowbells and hoots from the entire crowd.  The second run began at 1 p.m. The 30 skiers with the fastest first run, started the second run; the fastest finisher would be the last skier of the top 30, followed by the remaining racers.  By 2 p.m. the medal chase was over.  The winners were Carlo Janka (Gold) from Switzerland; Kjetil Jansrud (Silver) of Norway, and his teammate and crowd favorite, Aksel Lund Svindal (Bronze). 

What was particularly inspirational to me was to see the camaraderie between the fans and Olympic team members attending the event as spectators.  Individuals from significantly diverse backgrounds were sharing laughter, love of skiing and winter sport.  You could observe the world coming together and it gave me some hope that through sport, political differences could be overcome.  Throughout my stay during the Olympics, pride of country and joy in sharing a common experience with the world, was constantly expressed. 

I would have loved to hang around Whistler Village to soak in more of that Olympic atmosphere, but I had a 6 a.m. flight to catch in Seattle the next day.

So, it was back on the bus to Vancouver followed by a 3 hour drive to Seattle.  Drop the rental car off at the downtown location; walk the 6 blocks to the Light Rail station.  Take the train to the airport where I would pick up a hotel shuttle. 

And here’s where I learned that even experienced travelers make errors.  I arrived at the hotel shuttle pick up spot only to discover that there were three Holiday Inns near the airport and I couldn’t remember which one I booked.  No problem, I’ll call them.  Bigger problem. . . .there was no reservation for me at any of the hotels.  I unpacked the laptop and checked my reservation confirmation.  Apparently, in my haste to modify my travel arrangements when I decided to stay an extra day in Vancouver, I made the reservation for the wrong date.  Fortunately, a room was available. 

Oh, and apparently avoiding Chicago going out to Seattle was a good thing if my experience coming home through Chicago is an indication of what can happen.  My flight to Cleveland was cancelled. 

And thus ended “My Road to the Olympics.”  When I first planned this trip, it was billed as a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  Now that I’ve experienced the joy, the passion and the excitement of the Olympics, I want to do it again.  And I encourage everyone to enjoy the Olympic experience in person.  My take is that the Olympic mission “to bring the elite athletes from countries all over the world together to compete in peace, to learn and grow together, to encourage new world records and build a better world through peace and sport” was fulfilled in Vancouver.