Yesterday, I went to That There London. All by my big self. It was a Grand Adventure.
Of course, it wasn’t an adventure at all, it was just a trip on a train, then a short hop across our nation’s capital on the tube, followed by a seminar on software copyright (which included the easiest exam ever at the end), and finally the return trip home.
It didn’t start well, as I managed to spill coffee on my shirt[ref]Apparently, “business casual” doesn’t, in fact, mean “tie and hotpants”.[/ref] before I’d even got on the train in the morning. My reserved seat had been taken, but I didn’t question it as it seemed to be the only one in the carriage that had actually been reserved, and one with more legroom was nearby.
The trip in was uneventful, as I watched Get Shorty on my phone and played a bit on my 3DS[ref]I didn’t get a single Streetpass hit all day! How disappointing[/ref]. I took a few photos of the Olympic stadium as we inched past it at single-digit miles an hour, as there was some delay at Liverpool Street. Found my way to the Central Line upon arriving without issue, and only had to wait a few seconds for a tube heading for Holborn.
An announcer said that three other underground lines were closed, two due to a loss of power and one because of signalling problems, and at Bank all the people in the world boarded the train. Then, at Holborn, all the people in the world got off.
I had to queue to leave the platform, then the announcer said something about the escalators being changed due to the number of people, and would everyone walk up the stationary escalator please as this will help.
Now, people who know me may know that I have a phobia about escalators. When I was a child I saw the one at my local shopping centre “flat” once. As in, the steps had “folded in” so it was a slope, not some stairs. This gave me nightmares for years. I still, sometimes, get them. As a result, whenever I use an escalator I grip the handrail like I’m on a rollercoaster and stare straight ahead. Horrible.
I also suffer[ref]Well, not suffer exactly as it’s rarely a problem.[/ref] from a form of vertigo. Not the sort where you feel sick or off-balance when you look down from a tall building – that doesn’t bother me – but the reverse. I don’t like standing next to tall buildings and looking up at them, as they seem to curve over me, perspective goes all screwy, and I feel like I’m going to fall backwards – even if I’m leaning forwards to compensate. I’ll explain why this matters in a minute.
If you’ve ever been to Holborn tube station, you may be aware it’s one of those stations with a single long, reasonably steep, escalator (as opposed to some of the other stations that have two or more to break up the ascent). You can’t really see the top from the bottom, so it’s like a reverse abyss.
Off I went. Dutifully keeping to the right as instructed. Holding on to the rail, and climbing steadily. It started OK. I didn’t like it, but I carried on. Then, at what must have been about a quarter of the way to the top, I stole a glance upwards and it all went horribly wrong. Vertigo kicked in, and the tunnel span. Up became down and down became backwards. I felt like I was holding on to a cliff edge and could fall at any minute. I tried to shake it out of my head and carry on. I closed my eyes for a few steps but bumped into the person in front, which made things worse. My pulse raced as I climbed, breathing got difficult, and my hands went clammy. I found it hard to hold onto the rail, and at about half way up I had to hold on with both hands on the right handrail. I started feeling dizzy, and as people walked past on my left it felt like they were slipping down in front of me. Gravity was pulling me backwards, and I couldn’t look at anything but the next stair.
By about three quarters of the way up I’d slowed to almost stopping. I felt like sitting down and closing my eyes, but that would be a ridiculous thing to do with all these people. Also, I might fall. I started thinking I’m going to slip. I’m going to die. I could barely breathe but still tried to press on, virtually on my knees. After what was less than five minutes but felt like forever, the stairs shallowed and I reached the top. I stepped out of the station and nearly burst into tears. It took ten minutes of standing still, shaking, to compose myself enough to start looking for the hotel my seminar was in.
Worst experience of my life.[ref]The escalator, I mean, not the seminar.[/ref]
To be continued.
