On location in London #4

I'm covering the 2012 Summer Olympic Games from July 27 through Aug. 12 in London for the Virgin Islands Daily News. These notebook items and photos were published in the print edition.

No guns, plenty of security

Unlike the Pan American Games last October in Guadalajara, Mexico where security guards dressed in all black and walked around with high-powered machine guns, the security in London has been highly effective without the fire power.

Before the Games, there was a lot of attention on the lack of overall security and Olympic organizers summoned a few thousand military men from England to help out. They dress in camouflage fatigues while the normal London security and police forces have their own special threads.

Checking into any sports event is similar to a security check at a U.S. airport sans the show removal. The cops, security guards and military men have a constant presence in the crowd and when empty seats were visible in the early part of the Games, they turned into spectators but still kept a constant eye on the crowds.

From what I've heard from athletes, coaches and delegation officials, they all feel very safe in and around London. There have been very few – if any – security gaffes.

That was before they met me.

During the first day of track and field, I mistakenly brought a backpack and a camera bag for the full day of action. I arrived early and left my backpack in the front row of the media tribune. Then I took my camera bag and grabbed a spot near the finish line.

When I returned to my backpack hours later, two security guards grabbed me and immediately got on the radio. I'm not sure what they exactly said into the walkie talkie but it sounded like, “threat neutralized, all is well.”

Then I got a stern lecture from the men. Apparently, they took the location and random placement of my black Olympic backpack in the front row as highly suspicious. They had carefully watched it for hours, they said.

Highly embarrassed and on deadline, I apologized profusely and tried my best to get out of there quickly. Instead, they had to have a look inside.

What they thought would be a WMD turned out to be a English ham sandwich, two oranges and a folded map of the London tube trains.

“OK, you're good,” they said and patted me on the shoulder. “Cheers, mate.”

BMW capitalizes on laziness

As the eyes of the world are on London, every company out there wants to get their name involved.

BMW provided three electronic Mini MINIs to the 2012 Olympic Games. The company supplied a fleet of electronic cars for broadcasters and operational support staff to use during the games but the Mini MINIs have a far more important task.

Each Mini MINI is a 1/4 scale replica of a MINI Cooper hatchback. Picture an small electronic car with a remote control. I received a similar gift from Santa when I was nine years old.

The Mini MINIs are powered by a 10-horsepower electric motor with 35 minutes of usage time per battery pack. Grass tires, heavy duty shocks and vented disc brakes are also thrown in. They are designed to shuttle track and field projectiles like javelins, hammers, shot put and discuses back to competing athletes, saving field judges valuable time from walking back to the throwing area.

Each are expected to cover more than 30 miles of hard labor during the Games. In 2016, they are expected to compete in the marathon.

I love cops

These are tough economic times in the islands so a little league baseball team or non-profit organization selling water on the corner or at the intersection has become a mainstay on the lavish streets of St. Thomas.

Now the local swine have gotten in on the action.

While I was driving to work this morning, I was talking on the cell phone (Yes, guilty as charged) to the proprietor of a local beer-slinging establishment. I'm trying to get 20 cases of beer at cost for when 22 of my cousins visit next month...does that math add up?

Anyway, instead of declining on the exceptional offer of $1 for an ice-cold bottle of water, I came in direct eye contact with a local cop just standing on the side of the street. I think I actually switched hands with my cell phone while we shared a moment staring at each other.

His trained police response: He tapped on my car while I drove by and yelled, "Pull over!"

I contemplated a fierce getaway (I was mobile and he was just standing on the side of the road) but it was 10 in the morning on a Monday. Certainly, not the right time for a showdown.

I pulled into a nearby gas station, nonchalantly put on my seat belt and started to get my paperwork in order. But he never came. I rolled down my window and looked back for him and he motioned for me to exit the car and come to him, while still standing on the side of the road.

Right then, I knew I was dealing with a pure professional.

The following dialogue was the same interaction I've had with just about every traffic cop since I moved to St. Thomas in 2010. Almost verbatim.

Swine (while looking at my Maryland driver's license): How long have you lived here?

Ex-patriot: Only about a month, just for the season. (Even though my name has been printed up to three or four times in a daily newspaper for the last two years)

Swine: You know you're supposed to get a V.I. license after one month?

Ex-patriot: I was unaware of that, sir. I will drive to the DMV -- or whatever you guys call it down here -- right away. I will correct this problem. It's my mission in life.

(During our little exchange, about two or three different cars honk and wave at the cop)

Ex-patriot: You're pretty popular around here, huh? Do you help them sell water on the weekends?

Swine: Your court date is set for August 26. (The same day I leave for the Olympics)

Ex-patriot: Sounds good. I'll text you beforehand, maybe we can carpool?

He did not laugh, removed his sunglasses and gave me a sinister look that only a man above the law can give while standing on the side of the road.

I grabbed up the ticket, held back on my "nice doing business with you" remark and walked briskly back to my car.

Ahh, another Monday morning in the books and another traffic ticket.

I quickly called my beer-slinging accomplice back (after I was out of view of the stationary police officer of course) and closed the deal for the booze. One door closes, another one opens. Unfortunately, my credit card balance will take a hit on both ends.