The last time we had to change trains at Birmingham New Street, there was a bomb scare. It happened, inconveniently, just as Andy went to the loo. As police evacuated the station, I refused to budge until Andy emerged to a ghost station. That makes it sound like she was in there a long time; she wasn’t. The police were just incredibly efficient at getting everyone out.
Come to think of it, the last time I actually visited Birmingham itself, for a work conference, 9/11 happened. Like everyone, I had no idea what was going on, whether the country was about to be bombed. I just wanted to be back home with Andy. Basically, I don’t associate Birmingham with warm and fuzzy memories.
Still, that was in the past.
For years, our nephew Liam has advised friends and family to avoid changing trains at Birmingham New Street. He considers it a nightmare of a station to navigate (he’s worked in the rail industry for years, initially as a train manager and now as a driver) for anyone who isn’t a savvy traveller, fearing they’ll becoming discombobulated and miss their connection.
Not a problem for us. We’ve breezed through plenty of Europe’s main train stations, from Madrid to Milan and Paris to Prague (okay, we struggled with Prague, but that’s due to them hiding some platforms). Birmingham would be a doddle.
What we didn’t know was that Birmingham New Street thinks it is an airport rather than a train station.
Luck of the Draw
Heading to Scotland, the change from the Taunton train to Avanti’s Glasgow service was simplicity. Our train came in on platform 7, the Glasgow train departed from platform 8. With an hour to spare, we climbed the nearest stairs to find ourselves in an area with food outlets, lounges, and a café. We exited the ticket barriers to have a look at Ozzy, the steampunk mechanical bull, then popped back through the barriers (no problem), bought coffees, and sat sipping them till it was time to catch our train. Easy flipping peasy. The luck part was the stairs which took us to ground level were chosen only because they were nearest when we got off the Taunton train.
Train station, airport, or maze?
The plan on our return trip home was to do the same. This time, after we climbed the stairs, we found ourselves in an alternate universe. There was still a long corridor with access to all platforms, but it was empty, with no outlets or lounges. For a moment I thought we’d got off the train at the wrong station. We retraced our steps, went back down the stairs to the platform, and up another set directly opposite to, phew, step back through the portal into the station we recognised from our outward trip.
As with that journey, we exited the ticket barriers, this time to pick up some bread, then returned to grab a coffee before catching our train. The barrier didn’t open. Neither had it opened for a woman in front of us or a man using the one to our left. Despite the obvious issue, two members of staff directly on the other side continued to chat, ignoring the problem until the man called for assistance from one and we attracted the attention of the other. She briefly looked at our e-tickets, before declaring, ‘You can’t enter until thirty minutes before your train is due to depart.’
WHAT!
Before I could respond with a ‘That sounds like bullshit,’ she wandered away, disinterested. Andy also wandered away. But that was because, as we returned to the main concourse, I loudly declared my views about Birmingham New Street being a joke of a station.
It turns out that restricted access is a thing at Birmingham. Similar to flying, some passengers can’t check-in until a designated time before boarding. And that’s the second feature that made me suspect New Street aspires to be an airport. Monitors show trains as ‘boarding.’
Then there’s the zones
When the time arrived that the barrier would let us pass, we went through ones closest to where we waited because signs showed they led to the relevant platform. We found ourselves in yet another different waiting area. This one had a lounge, toilets, and a café, and was completely enclosed, save for stairs leading to selected platforms. This is when I learnt about the zone system. There are three – blue, green, and red. In theory, blue leads to platforms 1-5; green leads to platforms 6-12; red leads to all platforms. Red is best as it also has the greatest selection of food outlets. The second thing worth knowing is that blue and green zones lead to the A-end of platforms while the red zone leads to the B-end. Of course, you can descend one set of stairs and climb another to swap zones. But not all have escalators, some stairs were taped off, and some lifts were out of order.
You get the feeling there’s a mad controller somewhere in New Street scanning a bank of CCTV monitors while laughing maniacally at the confusion and frustration they’ve created with their illogical station layout.
The rationale
Apparently, the set-up is to try to control the flow of passengers in a bid to prevent overcrowding on platforms. That makes sense if the barriers only led to platforms, as with most other main stations. But they don’t. They lead to warm lounge areas, cafés, and food outlets – places where passengers spend their time while waiting for trains. Preventing people from passing into these areas must negatively impact on the business of the outlets in them. Additionally, there’s more seating after you’ve passed through the barriers than in the main concourse. Plus, had we not left to pick up bread, we’d already be inside anyway. That makes it a two-tier system.
It’s a good-looking station, but it’s not exactly passenger friendly. Now I finally understand Liam’s POV.
