Traveling is for the Strong and Patient

And I say this after making the trip home from London on Saturday, December 20th. Any way you do this trip, it's going to be a long day, and it's going to be tiring. You must be strong and patient in order to do it well.

I wanted to leave the hotel at 7:30 Saturday morning, so this meant waking at 5:30 so I could wash, shave, and pack my final belongings. That was the easy part. I still had to move everything I wasn't taking home to the lobby and write baggage tags so they could store my clothing and suitcase for the two weeks I'd be in California. I also had to review and pay the bill for the 3 weeks stay, totaling $3,000, but that only took a moment. I never, ever charge food or other incidentals to my hotel bill, and that makes the review and payment much simpler.

The hotel restaurant opened at 7:00, and I was there, ready to eat, but the food was still coming out. I enjoyed cold "fried" tomatoes, tepid beans, cool bacon, and almost hot sausages. The eggs and rolls arrived later but I passed on them. I wanted to be walking out the front door of the hotel a few minutes later.

I returned to my room, brushed my teeth one last time, and began dragging my smaller suitcase and flight bag and backpack to the elevator and out the front door. It had been cool but dry until then, but within moments it began raining, so I hurried down the sidewalk toward Angel Station, just 2 blocks away. People around me started popping open their umbrellas, but I decided to brave the elements, muttering to myself, "this isn't rain...they should be in Seattle where it really rains -- and the locals there don't even own umbrellas!"

I arrived at Angel Station with slightly spattered eyeglasses, but otherwise fairly dry, but that's because I was wearing a jacket. I purchased a one-way ticket to Paddington Station, where I would pick up the Heathrow Express to the airport. Most tube stations are connected from the surface with very long escalators, and in some cases lifts, but I remembered that I would be required to navigate several flights of stairs at King's Cross Station, where I would make the connection from the Northern Line out of Angel to the Circle Line to Paddington. Sure enough, I had 3 flights down and 2 up at King's Cross, and it wasn't very easy carrying a large suitcase, a Harrod's box, a flight bag, and my backpack through these obstacles. But I refused to complain, since I had seen elderly people dragging larger suitcases up and down the same stairs on prior trips. I arrived at the Circle Line platform somewhat winded, and also learned that the turnstile doors closed on me each time I tried to pull the rolling suitcase through. With a big enough tug, the doors would open, but I could imagine the alarms going off in some control booth nearby.

Once I made it to Paddington, there were no more stairs, just the expected escalators. I remembered to keep my jacket on the entire time (rather than packing it inside my suitcase once I was indoors) since the Paddington Station was open air and cold, although it was covered from the rain.

The Express left within 5 minutes of my arrival at the platform and I found a seat by myself at one end of the carriage. My bags, however, were in the center by the sliding doors. That wouldn't be a problem until I tried to leave the train 15 minutes later -- and I found myself holding up several people trying to board and gain access to my section while I got my luggage down and assembled for the rolling trip into the terminal. No problem, actually; the people here are very patient and say nothing about waiting. It's part of the national psyche that you wait for many things, so they are probably born with a greater amount of patience than the average American. Or they are just accustomed to waiting for people everywhere.

Once at Heathrow I remembered to exit when the announcer said we had arrived at "Terminals 1, 2, and 3". On my first trip I had to ask a fellow passenger. I was the last to leave the train, as noted above, so I followed the rest of the people up the escalators and toward the lifts, which would take us to departures. Of the three lifts available, only one was working, and attendants were frantically trying to get them started while dozens of us queued up in front of the only working one, waiting (there is a theme developing here) for our turn to board. And here was another British characteristic being portrayed -- there was no clear line (or queue) for the lift, but everyone knew his or her position in the queue and made sure not to move in front of someone who had been there longer. That would have been improper and it's just not tolerated, although I have never seen anyone actually called on it. Everyone just knows...

I gave up on the lift and just dragged my 4-piece train up the stairs, huffing and puffing when I reached the top. Now it was time to remove my jacket and pack it in the suitcase -- the one that would be checked and not carried aboard. I didn't need to carry or wear the jacket any longer during the trip, and really didn't care if it was delayed when I reached Los Angeles. I found a quiet space on the side of the corridor and zipped it inside the suitcase, and then continued on my way to Terminal 2.

That was nearly a 1/4 mile walk and when I arrived there 15 minutes later, I discovered that Virgin Atlantic was in Terminal 3. With a deep sigh, I retraced my steps and walked another 1/4 mile in the opposite direction and then a bit farther until I came across Virgin's checkin counter in Terminal 3. By now it was 9:00 and I had been walking and on trains for 90 minutes. I'd say walking held the majority.

I got into the correct line, and within 30 minutes, almost to the second, I had my boarding pass and had checked 2 of the 4 pieces of luggage. On my way to the departure lounge, I learned that trolleys (we call them luggage carts here) are free to use, unlike here, where they cost $1 or more to rent them. Moreover, travelers are encouraged to take their trolleys through security, and there is a special holding place just for them, so the travelers don't have to search out new trolleys after security.

Security is much easier to deal with at Heathrow than in the U.S. In Los Angeles, and everywhere else I've flown stateside, we are required to remove our computers from our bags and send them through alone. Not so at Heathrow. "Just leave it in your bag", they said, which was helpful, since I was carrying two of them. One was a spare that Mary had shipped me in October and I was going to return it to Gateway from my home in California. It would have been unwieldy trying to extract two notebook PCs from the backpack, since one was jammed in pretty tight.

The security checkin process was quick, maybe 10 minutes or less, and I found myself in the usual indoor shopping mall unique to Heathrow. First, there was a large duty free store, where I could purchase liquor, perfume, cigarettes, and probably any number of other things. After that were as many as 50 or 60 smaller stores and restaurants, and while the amenities were robust, the departure lounge was so crowded that just walking through the narrow aisles was a challenge. I was lucky to find a place to sit on the few occasions I wanted to stop walking, but for most of the time I wandered around, sizing up the place, and trying to avoid other passengers.



At this time, it was about 9:30 and my flight was scheduled for 12:00, so I expected to board around 11:00 or maybe a few minutes after. That gave me about 90 minutes in the departure lounge to explore, walk, eat if I was hungry, or hopefully (for the merchants) spend my hard-earned money. Periodically, I would pause at several locations throughout the departure lounge to look at the large overhead displays which listed forthcoming flights and their respective boarding gates.



These displays would hang down from the ceilings and were at least 6 feet tall, so they could be seen from all over the departure lounge. Most disturbing, however, was that most of them said "Please wait" rather than listing a gate, and I began to worry about my flight when I heard an announcement that it was delayed by an hour and wouldn't leave until 1:00. No problem, I thought, it can't leave until it's landed, dumped all its passengers, and been cleaned and restocked. It was just a matter of finding the correct boarding gate and waiting until it was time to board.

As the time progressed, and the gate assignment did not appear on the display, I began to worry more about missing my flight. I made my way to the service counter along with dozens of other hopefuls, and learned that my flight would begin boarding in about 15 minutes at Gate 8. The counter staff was not very understanding when we told them that no gate information was provided on the large displays, even though their little computers told them the correct gate number. Failing to convince them that they should take the initiative and have someone update the displays, I left the service counter with a small group of LA-bound travelers and went to Gate 8.

Only to find the door locked and about 30 people standing around outside. The individual gate lounges are quite nice, although they have no toilets or water fountains inside. The seating appeared to be comfortable, but we were locked outside in the corridor watching the cabin crew joking around and drinking coffee not 30 feet away. They tried to ignore us, but one fellow began knocking loudly on the door and finally one of the employees opened it just a crack to see what all the commotion was about. Like he couldn't see through the glass door from across the room. He explained that we could not enter the waiting lounge, and had to remain in the corridor (with no chairs, so people were sitting on the floor) -- because they were still conducting a security check of the airplane.

OK, we like the security check concept. We could see workers all over the plane through corridor windows and they looked like they were doing all kinds of checks on the plane. But as we told the employee, the plane was not in the waiting lounge! It was outside a second series of locked doors, and why couldn't we enter the lounge and wait on the comfortable chairs inside?

This had no effect on the polite, but ever-so-bureaucratic Virgin Atlantic employee, who locked the outer door again and returned to his coffee or tea, which had probably grown cold and placed him in an even grumpier mood than before.

I wandered off down the corridor to pass the time and discovered a little-known secret of baggage handling at Heathrow, and one which may explain random and unusual damage to travelers' luggage. I snapped this picture when no luggage was in transit down its steep and fast-moving slopes, but I could imagine what happened to each bag when it hit bottom. Just something to think about when you pack your breakables, and especially those potent and fragrant liquids among your only clean dress or trousers!



Just look at the steep drop-off at the end of the slide! Kind of makes you wonder if it's for baggage or for trash. Just a thought...

A few moments later, the doors to the waiting lounge opened and two women stood guard at the entrance. I was near the front, but still followed a family of 5 Pakistanis who handed one of the women their passports and boarding passes all at once. This made for immediate confusion, since the employee was not able to mentally process 5 things at once and had to pass the documents back and forth many times between herself and the travelers before they were granted admittance. I passed without any problem, but I did wonder how the next 400 passengers would ever get on the plane if this consumed 30 seconds per passenger. And we were already well past our revised departure time of 1:00.

Most of us found seats in the waiting lounge and the place began to fill up. The planned/revised departure time of 1:00 came and went. Agitation levels began to increase in the room and I heard several heated arguments with the gate agents about the delay. I sat there and read my book.

Finally, the announcement came to board the young and the elderly, the rich and the famous, first. About 50 people crowded through the door. Next, they announced that rows 55 and higher could board, but knowing how the British handle boarding I joined that group in spite of my seat in row 37. By the time I got to my seat I found that I was seated next to the guy who had been pounding the door, trying to get anyone's attention to let us in rather than leave us in the hallway. I already liked this guy, and we talked a little before the flight. His 8 year old daughter was between us, so I felt like I had more room than on previous flights, where an adult took over half of my seat.

At the time I am writing this, we are all seated on the plane, it's been delayed an additional 30 minutes (gate hold) because we can't get a departure slot, and we will be about 2 hours late getting in to Los Angeles. With any luck, we might leave at 2:00 and land before 6:00. The flight is about 10.5 hours long, and you can always figure on an hour of immigration, baggage claim, and customs, and another hour of driving. I hoped to be home no later than 8:00 Saturday night. It was going to be a long day, since I had gotten up at 5:30 AM London time and would arrive home at 4:00 AM London time.

And this is why traveling like this, or actually commuting this way, is for the young, the strong, and those with the patience of Job.
- posted by Tom Perkins @ 12/21/2003 08:27:00 PM