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TRIP REPORT: Older, Yes. Wiser? No – Welcome to Little Britain… at its worst

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Welcome to Little Britain… at its Worst
Older. Yes, Wiser? No.

Older not wiser trip report header image

Britain, Britain, Britain. Little Britain at its worst.

With a bus stand, it was time to play a round of sardines for the ride to the terminal complex. I suspect those who had got on the bus early for flight connections were regretting flying that evening at this point.

On the plus side, there’s one nice passenger experience difference – lighted guideways for passengers to walk from the plane steps to the bus.

people standing on a escalator with people in the back people on a ladder with people on it people on a plane
I’m going to chalk this as a win – it’s just a great way of using directional light to show people where they need to go. 

The bus made its way through the Heathrow complex, ducking and diving from surface to tunnel areas, finally arriving at Terminal 5A.

a view of a runway from a window at night

I bundled out and followed the conga line towards the UK Border, going up the escalator to arrivals.

a group of people on an escalator

a woman in a long coat walking down a walkway

a woman walking in a terminal
Probably the most valuable vending machine in the UK 

Arriving at the UK Border, I decided for comedy purposes to see if the chip in my passport would work.

people walking in a terminal

people walking through a check-in area

You all know the answer to that already.

people standing in a line at an airport

I made my way to the rejects queue, and it seemed the UK Border agents were in a mood, with two people handling the families queue (and those who needed a passport stamp), and one person handling the Egate reject queue.

And the queue was a long one, as agents were taking their time asking questions, and in some cases, denying people entry and escorting them.

I also experienced some hostility when I approached the border, as the agent looked like they had been dragged off break and wanted to go home, rather than clear agent workers.

I was asked where I had gone, and why I had gone for the day. I answered the questions truthfully, to the point the agent said “That’s highly unusual.”.

Wait – day trips are unusual?

I did ask if going to France for the day was unusual, to which I got a look. I then asked her to check the date of birth on my passport, trying to tease what brain cell into life they had and she said grumbly “So, it’s your birthday”.

I responded, “So, why do you think I want to travel?”.

“It’s still highly unusual”.

I was handed back my passport and sent on my way. Should I have been held on any longer, I would have been happy to be interviewed, have a luggage search, and then invoice the time and bus fare to the UK Border Agency for wasting time.

Honestly, I was annoyed. Heck, I’ve had multiple agents around the world who could muster a smile, or do some basic logic in their head.

This person was either brainwashed by them upstairs (and I refer you to the actions of recent multiple home sectaries) or incapable of independent thinking any longer.

Little Britain at its best – showing off power when it is not needed.

I headed downstairs to the luggage claim. With nothing to claim, I headed to customs and to the exit, where I was let through unchallenged.

a sign on a glass wall
Oh. Don’t get me started. Curious that the holders had all been ripped off. 

Well, there wasn’t anyone there to challenge me, but that’s beside the point.

Exiting the secure area, there were two things I wanted to do – Grab a coffee and a bottle of water. It was 21:00 by the time I had exited the secure zone, with my coach due to depart at 21:40.

At least that £13 National Express return fare wasn’t going to waste.

Thankfully, I saw that Caffe Nero was open – and also had a loyalty voucher to spend, so the coffee would be free (and free coffee is the best sort of coffee). A bottle of water was £1.40 from M&S, which would get me home.

With time ticking on, I went outside to the windy exterior of Terminal 5 and headed to the coach bays, where the 210 to Birmingham was waiting.

a white bus parked in a parking lot

I checked with the driver, and he was waiting for one passenger to board – me.

National Express
Coach 210 to Birmingham.

Thankfully the driver was pretty jovial – this makes for an excellent journey I find. Especially since it was just the two of us for the first part of the journey – with passengers expected to be picked up at Heathrow Central – not enough to fill the coach out, but enough to be busy.

a seats on a bus

I therefore crossed my fingers and hoped the seat next to me would be free for this leg home.

a group of people standing in a station

And yes whilst the coach did fill out a fair bit, my spare seat next to me stuck for the onward journey.

I could live with that.

 

This coach would take 3 hours and 10 minutes to do the run-up to Birmingham, calling at Oxford and Birmingham Airport – a very normal run at this point.

a large rectangular sign with a purple and white text

The coach took the route out from under the runway, and along the M4, up the M25 and onto the M40 for the drive.

To be honest, I shoved the earbuds in and played music through the years to keep me sane. Well, I was awake, that much was certain thanks to the coffee. I’ve tried over the years to fall asleep on a coach, and it’s becoming harder and harder. Be it adrenaline, caffeine or otherwise.

Bottom line – I’m still glad I don’t drive back and forth to Heathrow. I do a bit of medium-distance driving, but even I’ve noted I’ve made more stops at some rest stations more than I would like (although I find my limit is two and half hours on the road before I have to pull over).

Put it like this, I’d be useless driving in places like Austraila and the USA. My legs would object hard for the privilege.

The coach pulled off the M40 to visit the wondrous university city of Oxford – and given that I’ve spun more than my fair share of PokeStops in the city, new stops are getting harder to find when going through three.

However this time, I remembered to take some pictures of Oxford at night.

a storefront with a window at night inside a bus with seats and a television a view of a street from a car window at night

Make of that, what you will.

With the coach dropping a few people off, as well as picking up a couple of people, it made its way out of the city and back towards the M40 to head up to Birmingham Airport.

And again, the earbuds were in.

In terms of earbuds, I’m driving another round of the Flying Tiger Earbuds, as I’ve lost enough of the other ones for now.

And that people, is why I don’t purchase Apple AirPods. I’d lose them within a hot minute.

Eventually, the coach peeled off the M40 and onto the M42 – indicating we had entered the Birmingham motorway box. We pulled into the building site that is Birmingham Airport and discharged a couple of passengers – one that I’m going to be familiar with again soon.

a building with a blue wall and a couple of people standing on the side

From here, the driver took the local route via the A45 to Digbeth Coach Station.  With all the familiar sights and sounds that an urban drive through the city of Birmingham brings.

inside a bus with lights and seats

Eventually, we pulled into Digbeth, whereupon everyone bundled off of the coach – myself included.

Again, with taxies and Ubers to the side of the building, where were all the passengers directed? Correct – to the front exit of the building.

You’ve got to love nighttime security in Digbeth

I took this point to order an Uber for the journey home – I was not in the mood to negotiate Birmingham in a festive party mood.

 

I found my driver – whilst someone was trying to half-hinch them. I don’t think that person was happy I left them behind when they didn’t get the cab at that moment in time.

The driver took a longer way round towards home – but I was tired at this point and not in the mood to argue… not that it cost any extra.

I was dropped off outside the flats – around 23 hours later and made my way in.

a red door with a backpack

It had been a long and very different day than I anticipated.

Finally:

Wiser? What do you think???

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Comments

  1. Andy says

    As someone based in IE and went to school in OXF (and commuting on a weekly basis afterwards), I’m so sad to witness the decline of the UK public infrastructure. BA is a nightmare operationally. Flights could be on time, but we would need to wait for 30 mins for the bus to come. Then the traffic getting into/out of OXF is so bad outside of early morning/late evening. Comically, I have also needed to educate the clueless new border agents, who clearly did not get enough training, that the Irish passport card is indeed a real thing (hello CTA agreement). Whenever I fly out from London, the Elizabeth line consistently has signalling problems to LHR every time I take it (4 out of 4 so far). Last week, the Gatwick express trains were either canceled or delayed, on a perfectly calm Sunday. None of these by itself is a major thing, but they together add up :/ At least Greggs is still good lol

  2. CraigTPA says

    I’ve never understood the hostility border agents have towards…well, everyone. Here in the US I suspect it’s trained into them. The only border agents I’ve ever experienced that were cheerful were in Australia (which after flying JFK-LAX-SYD (the worst part of was the two hours on the ground at LAX was almost a little unnerving) and at a couple of smaller airports in Canada.

    When I used to fly JFK-BRS back in the day, the British officials didn’t seem that bad, although this was pre-Brexit (and, more importantly, pre-Priti Patel and her cohort.)

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