Journey to Oxford
So last week I took a quick work trip to Oxford, England. The long travel day started out okay - Jenya dropped me off at BART, I rode the train to SFO, security was easy, the plane boarded quickly and on time at 4pm.
But once seated the captain announced one of the tires had to be replaced. That's a new one for me. The smooth operation happened while we were still at the gate and I didn't notice a thing. Did they even have to jack up the plane at part of this procedure?
In any case that took an hour. Not the worst delay, but it made a ten hour flight even longer. To make up for lost time the crew began prepping dinner service while we taxied.
I could smell cooking, but the odor grew more smokey in nature. Suddenly one of the stewards charged sternly down the cabin with a fire extinguisher. I looked at the woman across the aisle and said, "that can't be good."
Our eyes followed the steward, now squirting the extinguisher into an oven while a stewardess donning a smoke hood fanned away the fumes. Luckily I came prepared with an N95 mask. The captain's voice once again rang out over the speakers to officially confirm the oven fire. We had to return to the gate for inspection.
I assumed flames in a cabin meant the flight was automatically cancelled. But once back at the terminal a crew of mechanics and inspectors streamed onto the plane, and the captain had another update - he claimed it may be an hour before we can determine the extent of damage and replace the burned out oven. Until then, sorry for the continuing delays and thank you for your patience.
At this point the probability of complete cancellation felt like a coin flip at best. This situation sounds miserable, but the poise of the flight crew and good humor of fellow passengers boosted my hope for humanity. Also good thing this happened while still on the ground. Silver linings, I guess.
The inspection ultimately took two hours, still with no certainty we were going to ever take off. Honestly between the tire change and fire I would have been quite okay getting on a more trustworthy vehicle. But suddenly the captain commanded, "Please return to your seats and fasten seatbelts. Crew prepare for takeoff." I guess we're good to go!
Ultimately we entered the sky just under four hours past our scheduled departure. A bit of a bummer to be trapped on a plane so long before going anywhere. But we did gain an hour back at the expense of heading straight into major turbulence instead of wasting time to avoid it. I had to hold my water glass during dinner service to keep anything from spilling on my pants.
As usual, I didn't get much sleep. I suck at snoozing on planes. We arrived at Heathrow at 1:30pm local time. A fellow workmate (who rented a car) was also supposed to be on this flight, but I only found out while boarding that he had to postpone his arrival by a day. I would have to figure out transport to Oxford on my own. The best bet seemed to be getting a bus and I wanted to find one as soon as possible so I could salvage this work day.
Me and two other high strung dudes quickly got into the front of the pack as we left the plane and entered the terminal. It's a 15 minute walk to passport control and we jockeyed for position. Ultimately I landed solidly in second place.
Two of my British colleagues previously offered up tips for shaving seconds off the epic trek through Heathrow. First, there's a point when the concourse splits into "connecting flights" and "arrivals." Naturally you'd follow "arrivals" if you're leaving the airport, but inexplicably both paths end up going to the same spot, and you actually save ten seconds going the "connecting flights" route no matter what. Ha!
And then once at the "e-gates" (automated passport scanners) the trick is to aim for the lanes at the far left side past the metal pillars. Unlike the other queues there are two scanners per lane, so they move twice as fast. I gained a couple minutes there.
At this point I noted it was 1:50pm. Buses to Oxford leave every 20 minutes, and given my efficiency (and gains due to the above tactics) I'd just might make the 2pm bus. Now inspired with this goal I picked up the pace even more as I worked toward the airport's Central Bus Station. But unfortunately I found myself at a crowd waiting for lifts down to an underground walkway. Elevators slowly arrived and get crammed full of people. Ultimately it took me five minutes just to descend one level.
I hauled ass down the tube but faced an even bigger queue to take the lift back up a level to the station. Fuck me. Oh well. But as I waited a young man emerged and told what I presumed were his parents ahead of me there's an escalator we could take instead. I had nothing to lose, so I trusted him and sure enough - not very far away - there was indeed an escalator. Before sprinting up I turned and pointed at the young man and yelled, "thank you!" He appreciated that.
In the station at 1:59pm. I squinted at the confusing display and found the Oxford bus should be parked in bay 17 (the furthest one) and about to leave. In a panic I slalomed through the chaos of adults and children and their luggage and saw the bus door closing.
I waved at the driver. He opened the door and I sweatily asked if I could board. He grudgingly complied, and came out to open the cargo bay for my bag. I bought a pass once on the bus and threw myself into an open seat. I did it! Given traffic the 90 minute ride ended up being two hours. I arrived at Gloucester Green in the hub of town at 4pm.
I should have been happy to officially be a free agent in England at this point, but I was exhausted and had to pee and it took me an annoying couple of minutes to orient myself around these randomly angled streets clogged with people and market stands. Eventually I got my bearings and rolled up the sidewalk toward my AirBnB a few blocks away.
I got to the place but found it blocked by a small locked gate. I knew based on the instructions the main entrance was around back, so maybe the address numbers facing the street were misleading? I went through the open gate of the adjacent conjoined flat but once in the back garden I couldn't find a lock box with a key.. Given nothing back there matched the pictures from the AirBnB listing I gathered I was probably at the wrong house looking like a burglar scouting the joint. Oops.
I began to freak out a little bit and called the vacationing-out-of-town host. My international phone plan worked as it should (yay!) and he happily answered immediately. Phew. Turns out I simply had to give the gate a bit of a push. Oh. Duh. With some force it opened with a loud squeak. Everything else about my lodgings was easy and obvious at this point. I got into my little room in the basement, dropped the luggage, took a wicked piss, plopped onto the bed, and there I was in Oxford.
And ten minutes later I met up with everybody at the physics building on campus. No rest for me!