Crowded Sidewalks

I am learning to be very pushy around here. Not only are the underground stations and the trains crowded beyond capacity, the sidewalks near bus stops are about the same.

There is one bus stop across the street from the hotel, on my way to the office. Every morning on the way to the office I pass by this bus stop, and I have to push my way through the people lined up across the sidewalk.

In this section of the city, the sidewalk is about 8 or 9 feet wide. The bus stop shelter takes about half of that, and many people crowd into it, especially on rainy or cold days. No problem there, since they aren't in the way for those of us trying to walk along the sidewalk.

What bugs me is the group of individuals who stand in the area between the bus stop and the street. Most of the time, I will find them standing fully across the sidewalk, completely blocking access for through walkers like me.

There are several options: (1) Step into the street to go around them, (2) Say "excuse me" and push through, (3) say nothing and push through just the same.

When I first got here, I always selected option 2. I figured being polite was important. But after several months I have come to realize that no one cares. They won't move in either case, so now I have resolved myself to option 3, just pushing through without warning, sometimes muttering "sorry" as I bump them with my rucksack, a heavy one at that. The strangest thing is that I am now accustomed to butt my way through the crowds like the best of them, moving forward at one speed, making little eye contact, and very rarely acknowledging that I have even been there.

The same thing occurs at the same bus stop when I am returning to the hotel during evening rush hour. Everyone steps out to the curb so they can see whether or not the bus is coming (as if you could miss a red double decker from further back on the sidewalk). There is often a crowd of 15 or 20 people there, all massed up into a small crowd, and I am supposed to walk through there. I've found that the best approach is to put my head down, lean forward, walk faster, and not even budge from my selected path. People get out of my way, kind of like Moses parting the water, but with far less spiritual implications. At least in this direction I am facing the people waiting for the buses so I have a better chance of announcing my intentions by my head-down, intensive, purposeful pace. This works much better than bumping into them from behind.

All the same, the crowds are something to be contended with, and I am trying to adapt. Without being overtly rude or getting beat up by a gang of yobs. It's worked so far.
- posted by Tom Perkins @ 3/05/2004 10:47:00 AM

 
Travel Notes

It's been busy here at the office since I returned to London on February 9th. But the trip home (February 5 - 9) was even busier, and a good portion of it was a blur. I blame part of that on jet lag, and the rest on trying to pack a large number of activities into just a few days.

I left London on Thursday morning, February 5th, and landed at LAX by 3:00 PM local time. Since I hadn't checked any bags this time, it was a quick trip through immigration and customs, and I found myself in baggage claim wondering where my driver was. Normally, he will be in the crowd with a sign reading "Perking" or "Pekins" or something close to my name. This time, the names were all different, so I had to assume my driver wasn't there. A phone call to the car company revealed that he was in the airport but not at my terminal. I was told to stand outside on the curb and he would pick me up. My name would be on a sign in his front window.

After 15 minutes of breathing diesel and gas fumes, I returned to the pay phone and called again. This time, the dispatcher said that the driver couldn't find me at the Virgin Atlantic terminal, and was coming around for another try. I described what I was wearing, hung up, and returned to the curb. This time it only took 10 minutes for the driver to show up. We loaded up my hand bags and drove away. I was home in Canyon Country somewhere around 5:00 PM. Mary prepared dinner, which made most of my fatigue and jet lag disappear almost immediately. This was the first time I realized that eating a meal would have a beneficial effect on travel-associated fatigue.

The weekend was consumed with errands, chores, visits, phone calls, and some relaxing. But it was busy overall, and I got a lot done. By Sunday mid-day it was time to return to the airport, and the car service was at the house promptly at 1:00 PM. We arrived at the airport by 1:45 PM and I was through ticketing and security in 15 minutes -- a new record for speed, but possibly because I was flying United on this trip instead of Virgin. From what they said, United's flight was only about half booked, so the waiting area was almost empty. (Note to self: Don't show up at the airport so early, but if you do, have a good book at hand. I did.)

We boarded the flight at 4:30 PM, left at 5:30 PM, had dinner at 6:30 PM, and I was watching movies until I fell asleep later that night. Sitting in coach, I was pleased to find that no one was next to me, so I had the two-seat row all to myself. Not enough to lay down, but just enough room to put my flight bag next to me and not worry about someone else trying to climb over me while I slept. And sleep I did, until the voices behind me woke me up. I was in the last row of a section, near the toilets, and I found two people standing over me talking loudly. I could hear them through my ear plugs, so when I got up to use the facilities I asked them to talk more quietly or move to the galley in the back where there was lots of room and no one trying to sleep. They left and I went back to sleep.

These international flights are relatively comfortable, even in coach, as long as you prepare for them. I always remove my shoes and put on little airplane socks after takeoff, I use earplugs for sleep, and this time, I used eye covers since the lights were still on. The meals are tolerable, as long as you don't have dietary restrictions and you aren't too fussy about what you eat. Drinks are always free, so in theory one could drink way too much alcohol, but that contributes to dehydration and jet lag, so I avoid everything but water while on the flights.

With all this preparation and even with the 6 hours of sleep, I arrived Monday morning in London a bit tired. Many activities that day are hard to remember, and that's not because it was last month. They were hard to remember the following day. I chalk that up to jet lag or travel fatigue, since it's the only thing that makes sense.

For example, Monday I remember talking to immigration and explaining that I was here for a few weeks to do free-lance consulting, writing, hiking, and photography. I mentioned that the flowers were blooming the previous week and I was looking forward to all kinds of pictures of the parks with the yellow daffodils coming up all over. The immigration officer said that her garden at home looked about the same, and stamped my passport for another 6 months. I found my way to the Heathrow Express, and had filled out the voucher for a free upgrade to first class, but forgot to board that section and use it. I made my way to Paddington, but boarded the wrong train to King's Cross, and ended up waiting at Baker Street station for an extra 15 minutes for the right one. I called Mary from my mobile phone and told her I was on site.

After checking in to the hotel, I made rounds to the launderette and dry cleaners to get my clothing, and then unpacked the suitcases I had left with the hotel. Somewhere around 4:00 PM I realized I was hungry and ate dinner at Giraffe (one of the few smoke-free restaurants in my neighborhood). I visited several parks nearby to check on some of my geocaches and verify some GPS coordinates. But that's about all I remember for Monday.

The day was a blur, and I don't like having an entire day pass with some portions seemingly missing. But that's the short-term effect of jet lag, and I have come to expect it on these round trips between England and the States. As long as I have a standard routine and operate on auto-pilot, I should be OK.
- posted by Tom Perkins @ 3/04/2004 12:00:00 PM

 
Crowded Trains

Central London is the most crowded city I have worked in. While I expected a lot of people in this country of 60 million people, I didn't figure that most of them would be in London. Or so it seems. The official records indicate that nearly 3 million live in Central London, and another 4 or 5 million live in the outer boroughs, but from my recent experiences, a good portion of them either live and work in Islington (near my office) or are riding the subways and trains to get there.

Last weekend, for example, I took the Central Line from Islington (north London) to Hyde Park. On Saturday, the underground was very crowded, and the rail cars were jammed full. I knew that for shoppers, the Central Line is the best route to Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Circus and Bond Street, but I hoped that the weekends wouldn't be that busy. I was wrong.

On Saturday, I boarded the Central Line at Bank, which is the best connection to Hyde Park from the Angel underground station. When the train pulled up, I realized that "standing room only" was the rule of the day, and I squeezed on with the hordes of other passengers waiting on the platform. I ended up pressed against the end of the car with my back to the connecting door to the next car. No problem there, since no one would be using that door and I could almost fit into the small depression the door made. I also didn't need a handhold to stay upright when the train accelerated quickly at each station.

We arrived at St. Paul's, the next stop, and no one got off, but dozens more travelers got on. I couldn't see where they would stand, but they all made it in before the doors closed, and we were pressed even closer together. By then, we were standing so close that no one could fall over even if the train stopped suddenly, and I was very glad that my "neighbors" had brushed their teeth that morning. I could not move my arms, which were pressed down at my sides, but no one else could either. We all murmered to our neighbors that we were sorry about the crowd, and apologized for any bumping that might occur. The crowd jostled with the movement of the train, and we made it to Chancery Lane station. At this point, several people departed, but even more arrived, and the crowd at my end of the train became even more dense. I could look across the car to the other end and see that maybe 150 people were standing or sitting, and the capacity was listed as 65. We all gritted our teeth for the ride to the next station. I hoped that people would begin to leave at the shopping district, which began with Tottenham Court Road and ended at Bond Street. As before, we stood like sardines, arms pressed against our sides, bags and parcels at our feet, faces within inches of one another.

And then my nose started to itch. This cannot be happening, I thought. There is no way I can reach my nose in this crowd. Time began to pass slowly, almost standing still, like the time when I fell off the apple ladder and landed in the rose bush. The itch in my nose got worse, and now all I could think about was scratching it. Slowly, carefully, I moved my left arm up my side, hoping my elbow wouldn't press into anyone's back or ribs. The woman standing next to me shifted politely, just enough to let me know that I had moved into her space or touched the wrong spot. She glared at me briefly and I explained that my nose was itching as I scratched vigorously, hoping that this would do it.

It did, but now my left arm was in the "up" position and I had to either leave it there or slide it back down again. I left it there, and the train made it to Holborn and then Tottenham Court Road, with no one getting off, but thankfully, no one getting on either. Finally, at Oxford Circus, a few people left, but the car was still packed, and I was as far away from the exit doors as one could get. There were only a few stops left to go before Marble Arch, but I had to start planning my escape now.

The next question was, what door would I need to use to leave the train? Not being familiar with the platform arrangements at each station, I had a 50/50 chance of edging myself to the right exit so I could be in position to leave before the doors slid shut again. We're only talking about 20 seconds, sometimes less, during which time everyone has to alight or depart from the car. The rule of thumb is that people departing have the priority, but that isn't always observed, especially during very crowded conditions.

We arrived at Marble Arch, and I could see the platform, and had to make my move quickly, but my left arm was still in the "up" position, leaving only my right arm available to reach my backpack by my feet. With some effort, I was able to bend slightly to reach it (without offending anyone nearby), grab the loop, and prepare to bolt for the door, somehow moving 20 people aside in the process. With repeated "excuse me"s I pushed and bumped my way through the door and landed on the platform just before the doors slammed shut again. Looking back at the departing train, I could see hundreds of people still jammed inside, pressed tightly together, on their way to their final destination. But I was out and away and glad to on my way to Hyde Park, which promised wide open spaces and far fewer people.
- posted by Tom Perkins @ 3/03/2004 05:29:00 PM