Thursday, December 07, 2006

Long Distance Information, Give Me Uckfield, East Sussex

Okay, so this didn't happen in the US of A, but it's still a great story and ties in with something that happened to me recently when I was in the US of A.

So I'm at work, and I get this email from my boss's crackberry:

Hey Rid - it's Trip. I'm using Jerry's Blackberry. Mine's not working. We're near Picadilly[sic]. I know it's touristy around here but is there a decent low-key place to get a pint and some food around here?

So I figure he wants somewhere fairly cheap and out of the way to drink and eat. Bear in mind it's about 6.30pm GMT, and he's in one of the most "touristy" parts of London.

Of course, the expensive, non-low-key, touristy thing is the reason why I know nothing of pubs by Piccadilly. I've been to a mega-pub there, with a massive tree in it (actually it's Waxy O'Connors), but it's so cavernous that if you head off to the toilet, you'll need a roll of string and a trail of breadcrumbs to find where you left your friend. If you ever find your friend. But that's it. My extent of drinking in the West End starts and ends around Leicester Square, or maybe a few jaunts to Covent Garden. But now they closed down the Intrepid Fox, there's really not much point.

So I decided to hit google with this phrase: Piccadilly Pubs. Up pops this link for a site called Beer In The Evening, which not only provided pictures, but reviews, and a little map of where it was.

So here's the reply:

If you haven't found a place yet, The Goat Tavern, on Stafford Street has recommended food and good beer selection. From Piccadilly Circus, walk on the left side of Piccadilly towards Hyde Park Corner. Make a right on Albemarle Street, and it should be across the road on your right on Stafford St, btwn Staff and Old Bond St. Wish I could join you. R.

Within ten minutes I get this:

We found it. Thanks for the tip.

I mean, seriously. If you stop to think about it, how bloody cool is that? This guy is 3,000 miles from me, and without even picking up a phone, I can direct him not to the nearest pub, but to one with food, and with a high customer recommendation. I'm like his own personal Zagat's. 10 years ago, this sort of thing was a pipe-dream. 20 years ago, it was the kind of thing you saw on the Max Headroom sci-fi series.

Needless to say, however, that my boss is now glad he didn't do the same thing when he went to Singapore earlier this month, as I probably wouldn't have been so gracious. Not sure what google comes up with if you type in Blue Oyster Bar Singapore.

And I don't want to find out.

However, all of this pales in comparison with this story, where a climber, stranded on Table Mountain in South Africa, called his granddad on a cellphone in Uckfield, and got the old guy to go online and look up the number for a local mountain rescue station.

The internet may be for porn, but it could actually save lives. Oh, get you a pint of Bombardier in a foreign country, too.

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