This past Sunday, for the second day in a row, I needed to drag my grumpy, unimpressed self out of bed at the ungodly and entirely unreasonable hour of 6:30 a.m., in order to drive into Vancouver for my Paralympic volunteer driver training.

As you are certain to recall, I received my volunteer assignment for the Paralympics a few weeks ago, and part of my duties include driving my particular Paralympic Family member to his/her Very Important Meetings/midnight Slurpee run.

Apparently they don't trust the driving skills of the general public enough to just hand over the keys to their fleet of brand spanking new GMCs, so this weekend I had to go take my official drivers training and vehicle checkout.

The morning did not start out in a particularly inspiring fashion.

First of all, it was morning.

Second of all, a very lovely British lady, whom I am sure is otherwise perfectly charming, apparently thought it entertaining to introduce her slideshow operator by informing several hundred grown adults that she sometimes falls asleep on the job, and may need to be roused from her slumber by the chant "wakey wakey." We were then forced to practice the magic siesta-inhibiting words in unison while witnessing a perfectly awful performance of feigned sleep by said slideshow operator.

This all would have been entirely tolerable had it been ... oh, wait. Nope, there was no time of day, nor any other conceivable circumstance short of being a preschool student, where this scenario would not have caused an instant to poke a fork in one's eyeball.

The afternoon consisted of separating into small groups of three plus a driving evaluator, and taking turns driving one of the 2010 Chevy Traverses throughout Vancouver, along the prescribed Olympic routes to the various Olympic venues. There is also a small possibility that we stopped at a non-competition venue for cinnamon buns on our way out to Thunderbird Stadium at UBC.

My Paralympic Family client will be pleased to know that, unlike my very first driving exam when I was 17, I passed this one.

Despite a morning of sessions presented in singsong format, the day was generally quite informative (apparently a car-length's stopping distance at a red light is defined as "the ability of the driver to see the rear wheels of the vehicle in front" and not as "the closest you can get to keep the jerk on the right from nosing his way in" ... ) and pleasant, no small thanks to a free lunch, bum warmers in the cars and the cinnamon bun run.

Oh, and VANOC totally got one thing WAY right ... They designated several of the porta-potties as "women only." I can deduce several reasons why (among them the male gender's general inability to hit the mark, even at point blank range) and appreciate them all. And for the two guys grumbling about having to wait in line to use the john for the first time in their entire lives, I have several ideas on the matter: menstrual cramps, suffrage and childbirth. So suck it. I'm taking my rightful place in my Women Only porta-potty without an afterthought or inkling of sympathy for the extra two minutes you have to wait in the rain.