Snow Shuts Down Europe

I was going to try to avoid writing a blog entry about the absolute shitshow going on over here because of a little snow. I am so angry about it that I was afraid I would just rail on about the incompetence and the stupidity and the sheer needlessness of the whole mess. I wrote one last year, complaining about the large-scale chaos that resulted from a light dusting of snow, the Eurostar’s inopportune breakdown inside the Chunnel, and the hundreds of transport-related problems that were caused. What’s been happening at London’s airports – and travel hubs across the rest of Europe – over the past four days makes last year look like a minor traffic accident.

I just have one question: What the fuck? Seriously, I didn’t want to go there, but how is it possible that a little winter guarantee like snow can actually cause such extensive destruction?

Unless you are living under a rock somewhere (or perhaps a pile of unexpected snow) it is unlikely that this is news to you. Starting on Saturday 18 December, when eight inches (I know, child’s play) of snow descended on the UK, the island’s airports all but shut down. I was thrilled at first by the layer of white that cloaked my backyard, but when the winter wonderland threatened to thwart my holiday plans the real severity of the situation began to settle in.

Obviously I realize that this country is not used to the kind of snow that is experienced by Canada or by the Scandinavian countries, but there has to come a point (maybe after the second year of the same shit) that people have to stop making excuses and own up to the fact that something needs to change. For instance, Heathrow, which handled 66 million travelers in 2009, has 69 ice-clearing vehicles (they don’t say snowplow so I don’t know if the aforementioned “vehicles” really are that), less than twice the number that Oslo has, a country that handles a quarter of that passenger total and “suffers” 60 days of snow a year on average.

Heathrow is not the only casualty – there are delays and cancellations on a major scale across Europe, and flights grounded back in North America or other parts of the world – but Heathrow has been chosen as the face of the disaster and is taking the brunt of the bullying. Rightfully so. The airport, which is the second busiest in the world, has turned into a refugee camp for thousands of holiday travelers. London’s mayor, Boris Johnson, said aptly on the BBC: “It can’t be beyond the wit of man, surely, to find the shovels, the diggers, the snowplows or whatever it takes to clear the snow out from under the planes.”

Well, apparently Boris, it is.

Now I mentioned earlier that the UK ¬– and most of Europe – is not used to these types of winters. Fair enough. I just wonder how many more of these weather disasters the country is going to shrug and bear before actually just shutting up and doing something about it? The transport secretary has started proceedings that will see Britain consult with its chief scientific adviser to find out whether the blizzards that began last month, and the “worst cold snap” in two decades last winter, provide enough evidence for a “step change” that would justify increased spending on cold-weather gear. Let me just reiterate that one more time: Britain is asking the weather experts for a second opinion, just in case the past hellish four days are not evidence enough.

On a personal level I have spent the past couple of days with a serious nervy tummy, wondering whether I will make it home for Christmas. I am beyond lucky that my travel day does not include Heathrow, but I do have a KLM flight out of City Airport tomorrow morning that will take me through Amsterdam (Schipol) and then Toronto before I finally arrive in Ottawa. Despite “disruptions” still reported at City this evening, I am starting to feel almost positive about my day of traveling. As long as the “light snow shower” that is called for tonight and tomorrow stays as light as possible.

Some of my friends have not been so lucky. Michelle was meant to fly to Montreal on Sunday but her flight was canceled and she was re-booked on a flight this coming Thursday, five days on. Lexie and her mother Christiane, who are supposed to be spending Christmas in London, changed their travel plans after their first flight was canceled and, after a disastrous Monday morning at Pearson airport, have given up completely. Tomorrow I will (hopefully!) fly from City, my roommate Lauren is flying from Gatwick, and my friend Nat is flying from Heathrow. Keep your fingers and toes crossed for us!

Finding Football

There is an old saying: "Football is a gentleman’s game played by hooligans, and rugby is a hooligans’ game played by gentlemen". Having been to two rugby games since I moved here and now two football games in the past month, I can whole-heartedly agree with this. Football players (and their fans) are a special breed of human – but I kind of like it.

I was very spoiled for my first live football game ever. My magazine (www.employeebenefits.co.uk) is doing an employer profile for our January issue on the Manchester City Football Club and the interviewee graciously offered two tickets to a match. I was already going to be up in Manchester for a conference so my friend Nicola, who was conducting the interview, invited me to be her plus-one. Despite having grown up in the UK, she had also never attended a match. The much-hyped Manchester derby (MCFC versus Manchester United) is not a bad place to loose your football virginity.

Amped up by the excitement that had been gripping the city leading up to the big match, we visited the MCFC gift shop for some blue scarves, gloves (it was freezing!) and other paraphernalia. Also, since it was our first time and we played dumb, we managed to carry pints of beer into the stadium seats, which some rather discouraged male fans pointed out was against the rules.

The atmosphere was tangible, blue-clad fans filled the stadium, singing ‘Blue Moon’ and shouting hilarious obscenities in thick northern accents at the Man U players. About 1,000 fans of the visiting team were segregated from the rest of the enormous stadium, framed by riot police in fluorescent yellow in case things got too rowdy.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. The match was kind of boring and ended in a draw, nil-nil. The fans pouring out of the stadium did not incite brawls with one another, just begrudgingly wandered back into the city centre. I have to say, I was a little bit disappointed.

For all those Man U fans who find it questionable that I would so suddenly become a Manchester City fan, the reason is three-fold. For starters, MCFC were our hosts to a free football match. Enough said. Secondly, my cousin Colin – a Mancusian since his days as a university student in the city more than 20 years ago – is a serious fan and choosing Manchester United would be akin to betraying the family. And finally, since I live for metaphors, I have come to see the MCFC and Man U rivalry as somewhat similar to the relationship between the Ottawa Senators and Toronto Maple Leafs. At least before the team was bought by an Arab sheik and revived with lots of cash, MCFC was a true grassroots underdog up against the rich and powerful Man U. If those reasons don’t work for you, I also look much better in blue than I do in red.

Back in London, nearly a month later and about 15 degrees colder, I finally saw my local team play. Based on where I live in Islington I should, technically speaking, be an Arsenal fan. Or so I have been told. The ladies from my book club are fans and had an extra ticket for the quarter finals of the Carling Cup. Bundled up in my longjohns and big red riding hood coat – conveniently colour-coordinated to support the Red Army – I sat 20 rows up from the pitch and thoroughly enjoyed a much more thrilling match than the Manchester derby. Arsenal won 2-0 and advanced to the next round.

Though it did not include an actual football game, last week I attended a conference at the Chelsea Football Club. Between presentations on pensions, employment tribunals and sustainable businesses, I got to walk around the perimeter of the stadium. It was a cold and empty pitch but it was pretty cool nonetheless – I mean, Didier Drogba plays there.

The sport will never replace hockey for me but I am starting to realize that I do enjoy it. The players are cute, the fans are fun and the atmosphere is a thrill to be a part of.