The Rest of the Ceremony - Part 7

Link to Part 6

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As you now know (and please, read Part 6 first!), my second Olympic volunteer shift took place during the Opening Ceremonies. I somehow won the assignment lottery and ended up stationed right behind the athletes. My job was simple in theory: escort anyone who wanted to leave early or needed a bathroom break. I ended Part 6 on a high note, telling you about my encounter with Marie-Philip Poulin. Well… after Team Canada walked in, things got busy. Very busy.

Toilet escort! Best job ever!

First came the Finnish team, most of whom wanted early departure. Then arrived the massive wave of Dutch athletes—and that’s when, surprise surprise, we ran out of “follow‑me” signs. (If you read Part 6, you know exactly why this is funny and not funny at the same time.) I tried to improvise by holding my tuque high above my head, but my supervisor stopped me and insisted I needed a sign. It took every ounce of self‑control not to get upset with her for leaving 60% of the signs behind. I did, however, point out that it was a good thing I had brought an extra one.

Before the athletes entered, we had been told that early departures would end at 22:00. Why 22:00? Because that’s when all spectator exit gates would open. Before that time, we had a perfectly clear route to escort athletes safely. After 22:00, spectators could line up anywhere, blocking paths and creating chaos. So the rule was simple: after 22:00, no more early departures.

At 21:53, one of my fellow volunteers showed me her phone and said, “Seven minutes to go and the job gets easier.” I looked up at the big screen, Slovenia was entering. I had no idea how many countries were still outside, but I did know that the USA, as the next Olympic host, would be third‑last. And there was no universe in which we could close early departures before they arrived. I was certain many of them would want to leave early. It’s just math.

22:00 arrived, our supervisor told us to put away the early‑departure sign and, sure enough, the Americans were still not in the stadium. Around 22:10, Team USA finally walked in. And immediately—immediately—athletes began asking where to go if they wanted to leave now. The first few accepted the answer (“Sorry, you have to wait until the end”), but one coach absolutely refused to take no for an answer. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her. Imagine being told all day that you’d be able to leave early, only to be blocked at the last second by a volunteer. Your country enters last because you’re hosting the next Games, you have an early practice, or even a competition, the next day, and suddenly you’re stuck. Nonsense.

Back to the determined coach. She first asked Dave where to go. Dave, being the good soldier he is, explained the situation. Within seconds, he had to escalate to our volunteer supervisor. When she couldn’t convince the coach either, the “big boss” (aka the first paid staff member in our chain of command) arrived. Finally, common sense prevailed: we were told to escort any American who wanted to leave.

I escorted several of them, and let me tell you, it wasn’t smooth. Some expressed their frustration and, by then, all the gates were open. Spectators were lining up to catch a glimpse of their idols, practically blocking the path. Once I handed off my athletes, I had to act as a human barrier to keep spectators from swarming them. The frenzy lasted maybe two minutes, but it felt longer.

There isn’t much else to say about the task itself. How exciting can it really be to walk people around, even if they’re famous to someone? (As I mentioned in Part 6, I knew very few athletes.) But if the task wasn’t glamorous, being backstage absolutely was. Mariah Carey and Charlize Theron didn’t pass right beside us, but all the Italian performers did, including Andrea Bocelli. When Laura Pausini walked right in front of us, Andrea, a 20‑something volunteer from Italy, shouted “I love you!” at her. He was floating for the next ten minutes. (Laura Pausini is a very big deal in Italy.) In the end, we probably witnessed 80% of the ceremony despite being on duty.

The view I had when all the athletes were in.

Our final task came after the ceremony ended: clearing the stage and directing athletes to their designated exit (different from early departures, this one was athletes‑only). Many wanted to take photos on the stage, which was allowed for about ten minutes. Then only security and stage volunteers were permitted. It was surreal to stand and walk exactly where the athletes had paraded an hour earlier. We took photos, shared one last group hug (most of us wouldn’t be working together again) and soaked in the moment.

We took a moment to immortalize our experience, on the main stage, clearly showing the signs we carried during our volunteer shift at the Opening Ceremony.

I still can’t believe how lucky we were to get that assignment. Only 11 volunteers out of more than 500 had that spot (behind the Canadian Team). Many spent the entire night outside the stadium and saw nothing. A friend told me, “I believe we all attract our own luck.” If that’s true, I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m embracing it while it lasts.

As you can imagine, the trip home was an adventure. The nearest metro station (M5) had endless lines, so we joined thousands of others walking 1.5 km to the next metro line (M1). Best decision ever: the metro was packed, but we got on right away. When I exited at my stop, who did I see? Véronique, to whom I’d given my amazing ticket to. She was still glowing, amazed by the seats and the whole experience. “We had better tickets than J.D. Vance,” she said. Well… that’s something!

We got home after 01:00, exhausted and overflowing with emotion, I had to go straight to bed, I had my first shift at the speed skating arena the next day. I’ll tell you all about it in Part 8.

Link to Part 8