Funniest Man on the Planet

One night, Holly and I had the honor of riding the #10 bus with a guy who I determined to be the funniest man on the planet.

Tired after a long day of gallivanting around the town, Holly and I collapsed into our usual seats and lounged quietly across the aisle from each other as the bus lingered its obligatory amount of time for stragglers to board. Normally the other passengers who wandered into the back of the bus would turn out to be Cleanevent employees, but this night it was three burly men in Swiss team jackets who interrupted my spacey stare as they took their places along the last row. My line of sight out the opposite window was soon after obstructed by a tall Austrian man who appeared to be in his early- to mid-30s. A woman sat next to him and they exchanged a familiar greeting before she introduced another Swiss gentleman to her left. I (regrettably) did not catch the Austrian's name during that brief exchange.

A (fairly accurate) seating chart of the back half of our bus

I was still largely lost in thought as the bus pulled away from the curb into the night, though before long I couldn't help but notice the intermittent rounds of exuberant laughter emanating from the Swiss to my left. Even without understanding German, I observed that each time the Austrian said a sentence - just a single sentence - it resulted in the deepest, most honest chuckles from the men and an insuppressible giggle from the woman. He wasn't telling a story, nor was there a discernible conversation between the Europeans; The Austrian just kept cracking jokes in seeming isolation and, based on the reaction he was getting, he was quite the comedian.

As the ride continued, yawning replaced jokes on his list of priorities and I fought to stifle my own breaths despite watching him open his mouth wide enough to swallow a soccer ball. Awkward eye contact was unavoidable based on the combination of the layout of the bus and the seats we had chosen, yet I couldn't manage to muster up enough courage to speak to this intimidatingly hilarious Austrian. What could I possibly say to a man whose every utterance was welcomed with such heartfelt appreciation? I kept my mouth shut (both to refrain from embarrassing myself by speaking and to avoid further infecting the other passengers with yawns), however I silently hoped he would enlighten me with a wisecrack in English. But alas, when we parted ways I was left to only marvel at my fortuitous brush with greatness: I shared a bus with the funniest man on the planet.

Don't Wiggle!

It has become quickly apparent here in Whistler that one of the best times to strike up conversation with anyone is during transportation. For some reason, riding the same bus is a sufficient excuse to approach strangers and ask them where they're from and what they're doing here. Perhaps it's because, often times, we are sharing a very tight space other passengers and the reasoning is that if your bodies are going to be pressed against each other for 5-10 minutes, small talk is in order to quell the awkwardness. Or maybe it comes from the "there's nothing else to do on this bus ride" mentality, since chatting is a good way to pass an otherwise boring amount of time. For me, it comes from an uncontainable excitement and insatiable curiosity about everything - and everyone - around me.

Last night we watched the Opening Ceremonies in the Village Square (story on that later) and then went to the Athlete's Village to wait for the Cleanevent shuttle back to camp at 10:15. In addition to myself and three friends, four Denver interns were also escaping the rain under the tent well before 10pm. We knew that the Village workforce had a shift getting off at 10pm, so there was quite a frenzy when the van arrived. After all the interns and some of the workforce had climbed aboard, we waited to fill the shuttle.

Fill it we did.

Although there was another shuttle coming everyone was anxious to get back to camp, so one of the Denver interns sat on the floor between the driver and shotgun seat, and Holly climbed across my and Sydney's lap to make more room, encouraging others to hurry up and climb in so we could leave. An Aussie guy sat next to me and ended up with an Asian kid half on his lap. All in all, we counted 21 people crammed into the 14 passenger van. (Rumor has it, they have fit 22 before).

One of things that had been called out when we were inviting more and more people onto the shuttle was "make some new friends!" so we got to know the guy next to us a little bit. The first thing I learned about him was that he really had to pee. He learned that I have a strong aversion to elbows, since I had to ask him to remove his from jabbing into my arm. See what I mean? Something about being in close quarters has the ability to eliminate any hint of shyness from people.

Partway through the ride, I slightly moved the fingers on my left hand, which were holding onto a "Go Canada Go!" banner I received while watching the Opening Ceremonies. My left arm and hand, however, were sandwiched between Sydney and Holly, who both wailed at my unexpected movement. "Don't wiggle your fingers!" they told me. We all had a good laugh about that, and I tried to suck it up and bear it but towards the end I requested to move them, reasoning that this time they would know it was coming. "Don't wiggle!" they insisted, which made the Aussie continue to laugh and long for the loo.

Cleanevent shuttles aren't the only rides in which I've talked to strangers. Earlier that night, while I was reading aloud everyone's horoscope from a free weekly magazine I picked up, an athlete on the bus turned to me suddenly as said "This bus goes to the Athlete's Village, right?" I'm not sure why he waited until halfway through the ride to ask me, but I assured him it was. A few minutes later he asked if it was the last stop, and Sydney said that was, and that when we get off, he should get off - which earned her a wink from him. If it hadn't been so close to the end of the ride, I'm quite certain the conversation would have continued.

This morning on my way in on an exceedingly crowded #2 bus, the man sitting next to me seemed concerned when the bus turned off the highway and into the Highlands, and he mumbled something to a girl who I assume was his daughter. "Yeah," I said, "it goes through the residential area which takes a while". I could be wrong, but on a "normal" city bus, the conversation would have ended there. At the Olympics, however, it lead to me finding out that he's from Seattle and has tickets to the luge event at my venue, and me telling him that I'm a student intern with Cleanevent working at the Sliding Center. There are almost as many examples like this as bus rides I've taken.

I absolutely love the human element of the Games - that desire to connect with others, becoming more aware of the people around us than in our normal daily lives. Just as every athlete has a story of how they got to the pinnacle of their sport, the spectators and tourists seem to recognize that each person walking through town or riding on the bus also has a story that brought them here to Whistler.

I'm looking forward to collecting more stories.

So, Where Are We?

I’ve mentioned the buses a few times, but I want to give you a better idea of where we are living in relation to where we’re working. Whistler RV Camp, home of Camp Cleanevent, is located about 15km south of Whistler Village. Going North on Highway 99, there is a turnoff on the left that takes us up a steep, exceedingly winding road to the RV Park. Once through the security gates, we drive past all the RV parking spots to the very back of the camp, where all of our containers are located. Since we have to go up and around so far on our driveway, we are far from the sounds of traffic and civilization, so camp is quite peaceful (as long as the drunks aren’t around).

To get to work we first take the Cleanevent shuttle north towards Whistler, but our normal shuttle runs no longer take employees straight to the Village. Instead they drop off at both the Athletes’ Village, on the right, and Function Junction, just across the street. From here we take the public buses. The shuttle ride and bus ride are each about 15 minutes.

In order for our van to gain access, the dashboard has to bear a sign with the infinity symbol, ∞, and the first line of security waves the van through. Once we get off the shuttle, our accreditations are what get us free rides on the public buses.

Different buses pick up and drop off in various locations around the Village. One thing about Whistler we noticed right away was that a great many people walk around in ski/snowboard gear all the time. One of the main bus stops is located by the gondola I take to work, and I watched a guy literally snowboard down the mountain, stop at the bottom, unstrap his bindings, and hop on the bus. Transport really is as easy as that in Whistler!

While the half hour of transportation time might seem long, we really have great deal. CE’s competitor, who has the contract for the housekeeping services in the Athletes’ Village, did not square away their housing far enough in advance and are stuck about an hour and a half down the mountain, much closer to Vancouver than Whistler. Gabby, from our camp office, explained that they will have to worry much more about traffic and weather delays, and she hopes they don’t make it to work on time so we can win back the contract.

Other volunteers are about 50 minutes south of Whistler, living on a cruise ship docked in the harbor of a town called Squamish (where the Wal-Mart and other such stores are). We were also told that the housing for security at the Games is really tight quarters, without much space between the bunks. As I mentioned in a previous post, VANOC volunteers were on their own for housing, and may have ended up either paying exorbitant amounts or living way out of town. I learned very quickly that perspective is very important when scrutinizing our situation, and I refuse to complain about how Cleanevent runs their camp.

Another logistical concern, besides transporting all the workers/volunteers required for a successful event, is feeding everyone. Cleanevent had to purchase meal tickets months ago, for $18 a pop. Someone from FAB (Food And Beverage; I prefer the – American? – F&B) stamps the date and meal (breakfast, lunch, dinner, overnight) on the tickets and hands them out for the week. At WSC the Employee Break Tent is in Lot 7 with our office, and that’s where we go for our catered meal.

The break tent offers coffee, tea, cocoa, and cookies at all times. Lunch is a choice of two soups, one of three sandwiches, a piece fruit, a granola bar, and a Coke beverage (Coke, Dasani water, Minute Maid orange juice). I’m not sure what dinner will bring, but I’ll let you know.

As I said, Cleanevent had to purchase these meal tickets about 6 months ago. My first day, we had about 9 extra meal tickets, which already had the date and mealtime stamped on them, so we each took an extra sandwich, granola bar and drink so as not to waste the money already spent. Nikki and I counted ahead the meal tickets we got for the rest of the week, however, and when compared against the number of people we have rostered (scheduled) there are days in which we are one meal ticket short. I’m interested to see what CE does about this.