I’ve a friend with who I used to play rugby (I think about a hundred years ago). She now plays on the Canadian National Women’s 15 Rugby Team. Canada played at Twickenham last weekend so I made tentative plans (only in my own head though) to watch her. From that point on, things went sideways.
Everyone who plays rugby knows that Saturday is a rugby day; there is even a song about it. I played rugby for 18 years, I should’ve remembered what Saturday was… I didn’t. The three of us went out on a small outing to downtown on Saturday morning. On the way back I told D that I really wanted to watch the game at Twickenham on Sunday, would he be up for that ?(Have you spotted the sideways slide yet?) Yes, he would be up for it! Great I thought, I’ll pack us a lunch and warm blankets, I’ll book a ticket on the train and off we will go. Around 2:30 I checked to see what time the game was on Sunday so I could time our approach… “@#%&* it’s today!”. This is where a profuse amount of reorganization happened. With food and blankets packed we were off in time, yay!
Fast-forward 20 min and we are still standing at the bus stop (the buses are supposed to come every 8 min to the train station). Then in grand fashion no fewer than 4 buses show up at the same time. We ended up missing the train to get us to Twickenham for kick-off. Deep breath, the next train comes in 20 min so we will only miss the first 10 min of the first half. I can live with that. But where is the train? There is no train on platform 5 even though the sign is ablaze with reassurance that yes! you can get to Twickenham from here. Then the crowd starts to move and murmur. Slow and quiet at first, coming from the far end. Then it picks up speed and we are swept up in a mass of running people. We run with them, I look at D, where are we going? They must have reassigned the platform? Did you hear an announcement? I didn’t hear an announcement? So there we sit on a train bound (I hope) for Twickenham, only there through the mindless action of the swarm. Enter the idiot.
Two stops before Twickenham, the train stops and the power is cut. According to the transit authority, Some idiot is standing on the tracks in front of a train up ahead of us. Just standing there refusing to move. So they had to cut the power to the tracks and all trains are delayed indefinitely. You have got to be kidding me! So there we sit, cursing the bus that never came and the idiot who won’t move. Luckily, the idiot was not immovable but because of the delay, the train wasn’t making anymore stops before London (it’s final destination) so we had to get off our train and wait for the next train. We arrived nearly an hour late. Then began the Salmon Run.
Twickenham Stadium holds 82,000 and nearly all of them were on a joyful mass exodus from the stadium following the men’s victory over Argentina. We couldn’t figure out how to get out of the train station because they had blocked the exits or turned exits into entrances. When I asked a transit cop how to get out he actually said “That’s a first. Why would you want to go to the stadium after the game?” I gently reminded him that when England plays, the event is not over when the men’s game is over. Twat. The walk to the stadium was actually uneventful. It was peppered with beer laden ppl who were in great spirits after the win. The second half was just starting when we got seated. I think those will be the best seats I’ll ever get in that stadium. I think they cost around £1200 for a men’s international game. We grabbed beer and I cheered at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, Canada lost, but I did get to see my friend play live, in an international match in one of the greatest stadiums in the world. A highlight so far.
We made it home without further delay. A great day in my books. A HUGH thank-you to my boys who had their heart set on a quiet Saturday afternoon.
weRNtheBritzone 