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From Friday to Sunday (December 17 - 19) I attended the Theoretical Archaeology Group (TAG) conference in Bristol. The goal of TAG is to provide an accessible venue for archaeologists, commercial and academic, amateur and professional, to discuss the latest thoughts in archaeological theory.
Bristol seemed much more 'city-like' than Oxford, but still had a medieval feel. The juxtaposition of quaint, residential streets, busy, commercial intersections, and the ornate, sandstone architecture on campus was almost jarring. I stayed in student housing about twenty minutes away from the event, so I had the chance to encounter all of Bristol's unique personalities.
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| The University of Bristol |
The conference itself was incredibly interesting: I heard papers on everything from 'quantum' archaeology to an argument for the European origin of the first North American populations. Certainly, some papers and sessions were better than others. But, overall, I greatly enjoyed the opportunity to listen to these kinds of arguments and discussions. The atmosphere can be pretty invigorating. Conferences like these are always a nice reminder that archaeology is what I love and what I want to do.
Along with the more academic side of things, TAG puts on a few social events for all of the attendees. My favorite, of course, was the Antiquity Quiz held on Saturday evening and sponsored by the UK journal Antiquity. Each round had a theme (e.g. Bristol, British archaeology, Antiquity 2010) and each round had a handful of questions. Considering the vast majority of questions dealt with topics I knew nothing about, I felt pretty useless. Nonetheless, we did pretty well as a team, coming in third place or somewhere thereabouts. That victory won us nothing, but a chosen member from the winning team received a year-long subscription to Antiquity. Curses!
The most popular (or, at least, most infamous) social event is the TAG Party, which was held directly after the Antiquity Quiz. The entire weekend, I kept hearing, "You must go to the TAG Party!" People were really revved up for this thing. I asked another Oxford student at the conference why the party was so infamous, and she guessed that it had something to do with seeing an inebriated Colin Renfrew dancing without abandon. That'll do it. After the quiz, we decided to peek in on the party.
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| The Infamous TAG Party |
That was it--nada! Enough flashing lights to induce an epileptic seizure, but no tipsy archaeologists on the cusp of bad decision-making. To be fair, the party had only just begun, and the bar was in a completely separate room. That surely inhibited the flow of conference participants to the dance floor. Unfortunately, though, this is the only encounter I had with the "infamous" TAG Party, as I was too exhausted to have the patience to wait for it to get going.
As I mentioned, the conference overall was a very enjoyable experience. However, my travels from Bristol once TAG had come to a close proved much less enjoyable. Much, much less enjoyable.
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| Snowy Bristol |
On Saturday morning, the second day of the conference, I woke to this beautiful scene. A light dusting of snow blanketed the whole town. It was the first snow I had seen all year, and the crunch of the fresh powder under my feet felt so wonderful. There's something about fresh snow that makes an otherwise dull winter scene come alive. Little did I know, however, that this "storm" would put my travel plans in jeopardy.
Honestly, my upcoming flight out of Heathrow was the last thing on my mind. The amount of snow seemed pretty unsubstantial, and my flight wasn't until Monday morning. Surely, any minor problems the airport might have on Saturday would be resolved by Monday. Right? Well, as the day went on, I began hearing from other TAG participants that the storm had been significant enough to shut down Heathrow completely. No flights were going in or out, leaving hundreds of passengers stranded in the airport. I became a bit concerned, but hoped that Heathrow would be able to deal with the weather and return to normal service on Sunday.
Flights on Sunday didn't fare much better. With only one runway clear, only a handful of departures were able to leave. Heathrow took no arrivals. By Sunday evening, the official statement on Heathrow's website suggested that the situation would be similar for flights on Monday, and asked passengers to check with their airline to determine whether or not their flight had been canceled. By some miracle, my flight was still showing as 'On Time' on the American Airlines website, so I held out hope that my flight would be one of the few departures to get out the next morning.
The day began at the early hour of 4:30am with a cab ride to the Bristol Temple Meads train station. From there, I took one of the first trains out of Bristol headed toward London Paddington, and from there I grabbed the Heathrow Express to the airport. As I stepped off of the Express, the wave of biting cold air made me realize that it wasn't the snow that had caused the problems, it was the ice. The unrelenting, below-freezing temperatures had persisted for days, making the task of clearing the runways nearly impossible. Snow had been forecast for later in the afternoon, so I hoped that my flight would be able to make it out in time.
Heathrow was an absolute mess. A sea of people filled the terminal, and it was impossible to see anything. It took me forever to distinguish which throng belonged to the American Airlines queue, and once I did it took equally long to follow the snake all the way to the end. At this point I felt hopeless. Looking at the huge numbers of people in front of me, it seemed nearly impossible that I would be able to make it through the line, check my bag, and get through security with enough time to make it to my gate. Luckily, an AA employee came to the end of the line asking if anyone had confirmed seats on the upcoming Chicago flight. I enthusiastically waved my hand, and I was expedited to the front of the line. I cannot imagine how terrible it must have been for everyone else in line, desperately trying to grab an open seat on one of the few departures for the day.
Once I got through security (which was, thankfully, a breeze), I saw my flight was still listed as 'On Time' and I made my way to the gate. I could see our snow-covered airplane at the end of the ramp. "Could I be that lucky?" I thought. "Will I actually get out today?"
As our scheduled departure time approached, an AA employee came over the speakers and said that the plane was ready, and that we were just awaiting for the arrival of the crew. Forty minutes later, he came on again, saying that the crew had just checked in with security. We waited another forty minutes, and the crew had still not arrived. Everyone at the gate was clearly getting frustrated, and the lack of communication between the airport staff and the passengers was not helping. The employee came on the speakers once again to suggest that maybe the crew had gotten lost in the airport... Fortunately, it wasn't too much longer before the crew finally arrived, to great applause.
At this point, we were already two hours behind schedule, and as the clouds grew I became anxious. But, I imagined that it couldn't be much longer before we took off, so I rested my head and went to sleep. About a half-an-hour later I woke up to discover we were still sitting at the gate. The pilot came on over the speakers to inform us that we were waiting for Heathrow's one de-icing machine to spray us down before we could leave. The runway crew de-iced the plane at least another half-an-hour after the pilot's announcement, and we were finally able to leave the gate. Just as we pushed back, I could see that snow was beginning to fall from the sky, so I hoped it wouldn't be too much longer before takeoff.
We had been waiting to depart for a few minutes when the pilot came on and said that the runway needed to be cleared of ice before it was safe to leave, and that it would be another forty minutes or so. I became extremely anxious. What if we had to return to the gate due to the weather? What if, after all of that, my flight ended up getting canceled?
It seemed like ages before the pilot announced that we had been cleared and asked the flight attendants to prepare for takeoff. Once we finally got off the ground, I let out the biggest sigh of relief. As the flight attendants came through the aisles later with our drink orders, I overheard one of them mention to another passenger that Heathrow had closed again only minutes after we had left. I'm sure my jaw dropped after hearing that. I felt so incredibly lucky to have been scheduled on one of the few flights that made it out. Had my flight been canceled, I would have been moved to the back of the line with all of the other stranded passengers, and who knows if I would have even made it home for Christmas? I was very lucky, indeed.
My layover in Chicago was not much of a picnic, either. The line through customs was horrifically long, and navigating the lines to re-check my baggage proved quite difficult. The flight itself was also delayed a couple of hours due to snow, but in comparison to Heathrow the situation seemed much more bearable and much less dire. I was Denver-bound before the night was over.
After twenty-six hours of consecutive travel, from the moment I left the student housing in Bristol to the moment I tearfully reunited with my family, I was finally home. And it never felt sweeter.
That's that. I hope everyone is doing well back in the States!
Much love,
Alyce
