Helpful security guy in parking lot confirms: Go down the street, up the stairs, across the walkway over the road, through two sets of doors, into the parking lot, down the far stairs, across several bus terminal lanes and you are there. I take pictures of posters about forbidden items. Luckily am not trying to smuggle a rabid cat into the U.K.
Oh dear. I now hear Olympic honchos hate details about opening ceremonies getting out. Possible yanking of credential. What? I'm not even validated yet.
At the validation center, six bored staffers come to life amid rows of empty lines. Someone to process! They debate who gets to do it. I mention the phrase "Siberia," they heartily agree. Process takes 15 seconds. I snap their picture. Head over to see AP's Olympic office, but it's not open yet. At least it's right by the snack counter.
Walking back, take picture of Olympic Stadium. Whoa, heavy clouds overhead. Good luck with that British weather for the games.
Soaring classical music suddenly emanates from the stadium. A rousing chorus. A fierce clash of drums. These can't be state secrets. British bookies probably don't even take bets on drums at opening ceremonies, too sure an outcome.
Off train, glance at pedometer. 12,765 steps. Oh yeah. Got an Olympic workout.