82: Surrounded at Heathrow

I was on my way to Germany, for a month-long backpacking trip. Traveling with my very scraggy brother. It was something close to 2am when we landed at Heathrow airport near London. The layover was for several hours, and the check-in counter for our next flight hadn’t even opened yet. As it’s a different carrier, we had to collect our massive backpacks and recheck them for the next flight ourselves.

So we’re sitting there with giant backpacks, and doing nothing for several hours. Trying not to fall asleep in the terminal while we wait for the nice Virgin Express counter folks to open up and let me drop off my backpack. No shops open. No food.

Eventually I notice my first UK police officer standing like 15 feet away, not seemingly paying me any attention. This was one of my first times overseas, and the first UK cop I’d ever seen outside of BBC television shows. In the shows they are always unarmed, whereas this guy is toting a full rifle. I think this is kinda odd, and that folks back home will get a kick out of seeing the difference vs. what we hear about. So I decide to photograph it.

Again, he doesn’t seem to be aware of or paying me any attention at all. So I pull my camera out and go to take a picture of him. At which point his attention suddenly snaps to look directly at me and barks “It’s polite to ask!” I blink in surprise at this and think about what he’s just said. He’s not threatening me, or even saying I’m not allowed to take his picture. Just that if I’m being polite, I should ask. He’s right. So I ask, “Um, OK, so can I take your picture?” He seems shocked and surprised, and then nods that I can. So I take my picture. Seems odd that he’s surprised at my asking, but ok.

That's a mighty big gun you have there officer...

As I’m going to put my little digital camera away (can you tell this is pre-smartphone era?) I notice another one of them off to my other side. And another, behind me. And another over there… Taking a proper look around there’s at least 6 of them, all about the same distance, and encircling me. This is a little disconcerting, but when I look a minute later, they are all gone.

It takes me hours to figure out what the heck just happened. Then the penny dropped.

I look Irish. This was at a time when some folks in Ireland, having recently had a small bit of civil war that the UK government, in a masterwork of understatement called “The Troubles”, was still chucking bombs into Heathrow trash cans on a somewhat regular cadence. (Also why there’s no longer any trash cans in the whole airport.) They suspected I was an Irish bomber. My scruffy and unkempt brother probably adding to the confusion.

He wasn’t shocked that I asked. He was shocked that I did so in a very California accent. He was surprised I was clearly an American. Which is why they dispersed once I’d spoken. No longer considered a threat.