With a pink sheet of notepaper in my hand, scribbled with "J1," I descend the stairs in the Cité du Cinéma. This is where our first training took place weeks ago, and where the heads of the delegations met on several mornings before and during the Olympic Games. Just the day before, I was invited here for a briefing. It was the last Saturday of the Games, and the task was to prepare for the closing ceremony.
Even during my rest day on Tuesday, my body rebelled. Stress, sun, and nearly 25 kilometers of walking daily took their toll. I spent Wednesday and Thursday almost exclusively in bed. Even on Saturday, I dragged myself to the Olympic Village and almost threw up before I could eat solid food in the canteen. So, I left after the two-hour briefing to have more strength on Sunday.
It is 2:30 PM. The J1 area is located at the very bottom on the right side. On my seat, there is a sign with the German flag, a printed sheet of paper, and a bag with fans. I had actually expected to be with the Bahamas but am not unhappy that I’m not.
Our task will be to accompany the teams to the buses. A mammoth task, considering that a small town has to be transported to the Stade de France within a few hours. Accordingly, the times are precisely scheduled and can be read on the printed sheet. The place and time of assembly, departure, and boarding are specified down to the minute. We just need to ensure that the flag bearers—triathlete Laura Lindemann and canoeist Max Rendschmidt for Team Germany—are present.
After everything has been said, the organization informs us that we have to stay in the hall until the start of our assignment. Discontent spreads because for some, this would mean waiting 3 hours in the over-air-conditioned room. For the first time, there is loud resistance, but suddenly a group of security personnel enters the room and evacuates the hall. I initially interpret this as a concession, but it later turns out to be a gas leak that grants us our freedom.
In front of the hall, I meet Emilie, my favorite Belgian, and together we get an ice cream. She tells me about the last few days with the Bahamas. No, I really haven’t missed anything. She is also assigned to her national delegation. So, not being with the Bahamas was not a punitive action.
Right on time at 4:25 PM, I find myself in front of the German House on the Seine. Many of the athletes are already standing in front of the door on the sidewalk, and we begin distributing the fans. A total of 600 Germans are to be brought to the stadium, and each of us is supposed to take care of about 50 participants. Since I’m not familiar with the sports world, I offer the fans to young people who don’t mean anything to me. I think I recognize Giulia Gwinn in the crowd, but I’m not sure. The German group is supposed to be led by a Frenchman with a strong accent. He takes his job very seriously and spends his time taking selfies. Actually forbidden, since the village is considered a safe space for the athletes. The departure at 4:41 PM is rather uncoordinated, and so I join the line as the second sign bearer. Next to me walks Deniz Almas, with whom I exchange a few words, but otherwise, I blend in anonymously. I am among young people and feel a bit out of place. The French leader of the group has placed a Bluetooth speaker on a luggage cart and pushes it in front of him. Team D is thus the only group I will see that marches through the village with musical accompaniment. After just a few hundred meters, we stop and wait under a canopy at the bus station check-in. It was predicted to be 38 degrees, and if we weren’t standing in the shade with a constant breeze, the waiting time would probably be unbearable. A more mature lady asks me when we might continue, and I pull out my sheet. In doing so, I notice Horst Hrubesch, who is standing two meters next to me and leaning against an X-ray machine for baggage control. Only now do I realize where I actually am. He seems to see my surprised face, smiles briefly, and turns away.
Ahead, a medley by the group Pur with their greatest hits from the 90s is playing, spiced up with dance beats. The French DJ apparently wasn’t that well-versed in German culture, and after some time, some of the forced listeners begin to revolt. Now, "Helikopter 117" is playing, followed by "Sweet Caroline."
The group in front of me starts moving, and I move forward. Only now do I notice that the other sign bearers are no longer there, which confuses me a bit. When I get the green light to go, the rest of the German team follows me. On the way across the large parking lot, I am directed by the staff toward row C. A young lady comes toward me, and I address her in French. She points out that she doesn’t speak French and asks me where I come from, and she acknowledges my answer with a "Great." In response to my question, she answers almost apologetically with Turkey, to which I react with a "Super." She smiles and won’t leave my side for the next quarter of an hour. The most valuable encounter of the day for me. All other sign bearers have disappeared, but fortunately, the German athletes prove to be disciplined and almost independently distribute themselves among the buses assigned to the Germans. Right on the minute, the doors close, and the buses drive off. One deep breath and out of the scorching heat. Now, just bring the sign back to the NOC Center office. I will follow the closing ceremony on TV at my friends' place and am actually grateful for that, as the production will turn out to be tedious.
Thus, the Olympic Games end for me, and now it’s time to recover and gather strength for the Paralympics.
