Joe and Lou's Excellent Bus Adventures

Joe and I decided to take the bus to try and get the full effect of these 2010 Games. We have become acquainted with the routes up and down our mountain to our "chalet." We know that the no. 6 bus will take us down Blackcomb mountain to Merlins (for apres ski at the base of the ski run behind our hotel) with the terminus at the bus loop (just at the bottom of Blackcomb and Whistler gondolas.  This is also where you can find the "GLC"  (Garibaldi Lift Company) or the "Irish Pub" that other people on our Bell team seem to like for apres ski). We can take a variety of routes through town by bus or by car and generally we know that all the roads are two-way in Whistler. We also found out that the no. 10 bus will take us directly to our Athlete's Village venue. Take our beloved no. 6 to the no. 10. Spit, spot! Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your aunt!

Enter the Games! Apparently, Whistler Transit does not have enough staff to handle the crowds for these Games. They too have imported drivers from across Canada to try and move people around town and to the variety of venues in the region. There were droves of buses scooting around town which were "out of service" as the new drivers were learning their routes. There were scores of drivers also riding the active buses (ghosting), again trying to learn the routes.

Enter the problem! Just in time for the Games, the bus routes have been modified. Also, just in time for the Games, some roads have turned from two way traffic into one way traffic. Let's not forget about all those new bus drivers trying to keep the bus on the correct route! Then there are the locals (of which I now include myself) that thought they knew the bus route (before it changed). What you get from any passenger waiting for a bus are rumours which turn into advice which become legend!

I know it's a little off topic but before I go any further I have to say that both Joe and I have had our fill of the food at our venue. It is not that it is unpalatable, but we both like a little more flavour in our food and let's face it, even though "Michael Smith" is the master chef, we are still eating cafeteria food. Anyway, Joe decided to have his own lunch that day and I would have too but I'm not that ambitious about lunch. I went down to the lobby at the predetermined time and found that Joe had not yet arrived. That wasn't a big problem because I knew that he wanted to have a wholesome lunch before heading out. It wasn't a problem until I saw the no. 6 bus come around our loop. In a panic, I called Joe to get his ass down to the bus stop or face missing that no. 6 bus. When he answered the phone I know he had a mouthful but I heard him say he would be right down. The bus still hadn't left when he got down and with sweat on his forehead we made a run to the bus stop. We caught the bus but we didn't have time to talk about how we were going to make the no. 10. The bus driver just handed us a bus schedule but a "ghost rider" explained what we had to do to catch the no. 10. It was only after we had sat down that Joe admitted he had scalded his entire mouth wolfing down hot pasta. The sweat on his forehead was not just from rushing down the elevator but also from pain!

Our trip home on the bus was just as eventful, but it had nothing to do with the buses.  After we took the shuttle to the entrance of our venue, the "smurfs" (smiley, happy volunteers in uniforms of blue including hats, God bless them) directed us out a fenced in walkway which led to our beloved no. 10 bus. Just like cattle, we followed their direction because they haven't lied to us so far and because they are just so cute. It was all a ruse though because the gate which led to freedom had been locked at 9:00 pm and it was 9:05 pm. In any thriller movie, that's typically the time that panels come down on the fence and something evil enters to smite some of the good guys!  In that vane, I grabbed hold of the locked gate and exclaimed "I want free!  I want free!" (That was me re-enacting a scene from a movie) We now had two options to escape our venue.  We could either go through the tent where the scary RCMP officers sniff out our vehicles or we could go into the Welcome tent where the "smurfs" typically scan (yes, just like an airport) visitors.  The Welcome tent seemed more appealling as I had heard a rumour that the RCMP had a new box of latex gloves and they weren't afraid to use them.

We banged on the exit side of the Welcome tent door and somehow the "smurfs" seemed perturbed!  "This door is exit only!" ("So is my butt," I thought, "now let us out, I want to go home!")

"You must exit through the gate!" 

("Twenty grown people have tried that and lived to tell the tale" I thought!  The way is shut!  It is constipated! Get a hold of the RCMP! They have new latex gloves and they're not afraid to use them!") 

After much pleading, the "smurfs" finally agreed to let us walk in through the out door.  There were several brooms and ice-scrapers in a garbage pail at the entrance to this Welcome Centre!  There were handles on the outside of the entrance doors that conveniently looked like D-rings.  I joked that I should take some of these brooms and ice scraper handles and slide them through the D-ring door handles and lock them in for a while!  I bet the gate would be opened up pretty quick when it was the "smurfs" turn to go home!  I don't think I can trust a "smurf" any more!

We found that there is a short walk from where we exit the no. 6 bus to where we pick up our no. 10 bus.  Since the bus routes intersect, it would have been too convenient to have a bus stop near that intersection point.  We needed to cross at a side walk and found a "crossing guard coach" showing what I was assuming to be a volunteer (in civilian clothes wearing a high-vis vest) how to wield a "stop sign."  He was telling the young lady to be assertive and make sure that there is no indecisiveness in the raising and lowering of that "stop sign."  I thought that in itself to be amusing but I am easily amused these days riding the bus routes of Whistler!  We heard an ambulance siren wailing in the distance and the crossing guard coach jumped into action!  He ran into the middle of the intersection and started screaming orders at his crossing guards!  "Let that car pass! You, move over there and stop that traffic!  Come on people!  Look alive!"   I guess our crossing guard coach must have felt that 20 minutes of instruction on how to raise a stop sign was somehow invigorating for volunteers!