Nice Legs, shame about the Boat Race

Dear Bro,

Last April Melody and I were able to scrap our pennies together and take a trip to England for Aunt Joan and Uncle Bill's 60th wedding anniversary. As part of this trip we decided to spend four days hobnobbing around London. We picked a hotel off the internet called the Jurys Inn in Chelsea. It had several important characteristics. It was in a good area, reviews stated it was clean, and most importantly, it was relatively inexpensive. The hotel was fairly new and near the southern end of Kings Road at a place called Imperial Wharf. The website had stated that the hotel was only a ten minute walk from the Fulham Broadway tube station. (a subway for those who are unfamiliar). Being the daredevils that we are, we decided to test this out on our first day. As I had already studied the street maps before arriving in the UK, I was knowledgeable enough for Melody and I to strike out in the right direction to find the best source of public transportation known to the modern world.

The part they left out of this literature was that you needed a good consistent wind behind you for the walk and you should be able to qualify for the Olympic power-walking event if you plan on meeting the challenge of making it in ten minutes to the tube station. With those two circumstances in your favor you should be able to accomplish the feat, but otherwise you will be hard pressed to beat fifteen minutes on a good day. Nevertheless, each morning we would set off for the station with reckless abandon to explore the numerous sites of greater London.


Using the tube proves to be your best alternative for getting around, as there are numerous overlapping lines all over the city that run on a regular schedule. Fortunately England has entered the 21st century and all of the train cars are non-smoking, thus allowing us to travel freely without sharing the two pack a day habit of whichever stranger(s) of unknown nationality happen(s) to be sitting or standing within twenty feet of our immediate locale. I use the term "nationality" because even though our accents clearly label us as "norte americano" we are probably in a minority in that English is our native tongue. Sitting on a tube train one would believe you are in the center of a class that just got out of Berlitz University. I think the only language we did not hear was Swahili, but then again we only averaged about 4-5 stops per ride.

One particular adventure stood out during our trip. That would be the Sunday afternoon excursion to the markets at Liverpool street followed by our stroll along Oxford Street. This gave us a clear path to March Arch and Speaker's Corner, where I had promised my buddy J.D. that I would snap some pics of the going ons there. (for a future blog entry as well)

A lot of walking. A lot of shopping. It was time to call it a day and head back to the hotel for some rest. So at March Arch we caught the Central line train west to Notting Hill Gate, where we disembarked to catch a District line train to Fulham Broadway station. The platform was fairly crowded, which was unusual for a weekend, but hey... maybe the afternoon church services just got out and everyone was headed home for tea and scones.

The westbound District line has three ending destinations on the westbound trains, either Ealing Broadway, Richmond, or Wimbledon. (Sometimes they stop at a station before the end of the line but that knowledge does nothing to enhance this story) The first train was bound for Ealing Broadway, but as it pulled in and stopped several people got off but no one got on. Next train went to Richmond and the same phenomena occurred. After about fifteen minutes a train bound for Wimbledon came careening into the station. We were near the front of the platform so there were not too many people around us, but further down near the entrance/exit to the platform it was fairly crowded by the aforementioned churchgoers/high tea expectants. We got on and Melody managed to get a corner seat, but there were an abundance of other passengers already on board and it was the only seat available without sitting apart. Thus I just stood next to her as the car filled with a few more people and we started our journey.

Next stop was High Street Kensington, where only two people disembarked and a good quantity of people boarded the train. Still room to breathe, but definitely had to stand very close to where Melody was sitting without moving as I would be knocking someone over if I got too adventurous. The volume level rose as well as multiple languages spanning the globe all starting conversing at once. The doors close and off to Earls Court.

I would have taken a picture so you would believe me when I tell you that the platform at Earls Court was completely full, however it was too crowded by now on the train for me to safely negotiate the crowd to pull out my camera. The good news was that it looked like Earls Court was a transit point to some event that everyone was headed for and soon our train would empty out onto the platform to give us some much needed breathing room. Then it occurred to me... both the Ealing and Richmond trains stopped here as well.... Oh my God! They are all going to try and get on this train!!!!

Sure enough when the doors opened a crush of humanity attempted to pile in through the doors. To my amazement most of them managed to get on. I would suppose that it would also be to my dismay. I was still near Melody's seat, but I was crushed up against a pole by a mass of Japanese tourists, who in hindsight probably thought "wow... just like Tokyo" while I was struggling for what I thought might be my final breath. By some miracle of tube train mechanics the electronic doors manage to slid shut on the fifth attempt, and away we go to our next stop, West Brompton.

Now I have been on crowded subway cars before in London, Paris, and Washington DC, but this one was a first. To this day I probably still have DNA from the other passengers impress on the clothing I was wearing as I was crushed beyond recognition. Melody was seated near me but I could not see her through the riders, and for her part she could not feel her legs as they were being pressed against her seat and bodies lined in front of her like a human barricade. Fortunately, as she stated later, the teenaged girl standing on her right foot was fairly light, so no damage was done. We pulled into West Brompton and the train jerked to a stop. There was no worries about falling over as there was no where to go, and as the doors opened I was faintly hoping for some relief from the crowds.

Nothing doing...

The doors shut again with no one getting on or off. An interesting side note was that as we were all crushed together the volume of conversation on the train got quieter, as if we were all acknowledging that we were invading each other's space and we did not want to intrude further. The next stop was ours, Fulham Broadway. The only problem was that if no one got off the car I did not see how we were going to get to the door. Preplanning was needed for this one. I told Melody the next stop was our stop and she needed to get up. I am sure she flashed me a very sarcastic look, but being out of eyeshot it was lost to the crowd. She managed to squeeze her way up as I saw her head appear. She elegantly managed to negoiate the Japanese tourist that had settled between us to get closer to myself and the door just as the train pulled into Fulham Broadway. I announced to the people in our way that we intended to get off here. No response. I then started with the "excuse me" and "so sorrys" as we pushed toward the door. This worked better as the non-English speaking group of Scandinavians by the door realized what we were try to do and stepped off for a minute while we squeezed out.

As the train left the station we could see the same scenario in every car as they passed. People piled together inside as the train ran to it's next destination. Very strange doings for a Sunday afternoon. Must be one hell of a tea room they are all headed to.

We finally get back to the hotel to rest. I read for a little while as Melody channel surfs on the five channels that are known as "British TV". On BBC One we see a commentator standing on a bridge shouting above a crowd into a microphone.

"Today's race should prove to be one of the more competitive in recent memory" she yelled. She was standing on Putney bridge, the starting point of the annual Oxford-Cambridge boat race on the Thames, and two train stops beyond where we got off.

Bingo!