by: Lindsay Demchuk
As the days whittled down toward the finale of the Olympic celebrations, much of my time was spent being an armchair observer spending countless hours with my fiancé cheering on all the athletes belonging to the red, white and maple-leafed country I love. Slowly my heart warmed toward the celebrations of the city during this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
On the morning of February 28th, I awoke to a call on my cell phone. In a groggy haze, my brother’s voice asked if I would want to attend the closing ceremonies of the Olympics, tickets gifted to us by an extremely generous family friend. I politely declined and opted to return to sleep.
Of course not. That would have been ridiculous.
In a hurried rush to the city, we caught the US men’s hockey team’s second goal that tied up the game. My brother, an avid fan, was in his element as we were engulfed in the massive crowd and – at Sidney Crosby’s triumphant goal – we high-fived, cheered and jumped the loudest we ever had.
And as for the closing ceremonies? They were an absolute treat. Quick to embrace every aspect of audience participation, we rocked the blinking moose antlers, cringed at the mutilation of the French language and soaked every moment in. Although the musical talents chosen weren’t our favorites, we sang along to what we knew (and I swooned a little at Michael Buble in an RCMP uniform, realizing that we really shouldn’t have said we’d never go to see some of the bands live. We did. And we enjoyed it anyway.
And more than before, we felt extremely proud to be Canadian.