ArcelorMittal Orbit review
When you exit the station you get sucked into the giant Westfield Shopping Centre. It's like a shiny ghost town that spreads out everywhere, full of empty tables in empty cafes, big shops with no one in them, escalators with no one on them, and security guards with nothing to do but pick up a few bits of litter. When the only thing they have to chase is a crisp packet in the wind, then that is when you know they are bored. I'm sitting in a coffee shop and I've got practically the entire place to myself (it's 9 o'clock). It reminds me of airport shopping in the early hours of the morning. I've hung around a few early morning terminals in my time, waiting for my lazy plane at 3 AM, and everything is equally sleepy here. Same dreamy music. Same handbag women dawdling at the clothes stores, fixing their already perfect hair in the glass. Every now and then I see a river of businessmen come streaming down the corridor towards the exit, but that is the sum total of life in the Westfield Shopping Centre: an occasional blast of action and then it's back to distant music and me, an occasional shoe squeaking on the polished floor, and a high-pitched screech as a seat is scrapped across the lino. They are the sounds of silence.
It's changed a bit since the last time I came here. The observation deck obviously wasn't making very much money, because they've decided to wrap a giant corkscrew slide around it. It's that little silver pipe in my photo. (I don't mean the thick grey band -- that's the walkway. I'm talking about the thin little tube that twists and turns around it.) I haven't paid for my ticket yet, but I can tell you right now that there is absolutely no chance of me riding it. I might be mad, but I'm not crazy. I'm not doing it, and that's all there is to it. You can call me a pansy if you choose, but you've got it easy sitting there reading this book in the comfort of your own home -- I'm the poor test pilot who has to risk my life sliding down a toothpaste tube at five hundred miles an hour. Apparently it takes forty seconds to slide all the way down from the top and you go quicker than the speed of sound. One guy even burst into flames. Another kid actually travelled back in time -- that is how fast he was going.
The observation deck is actually quite pleasant. It's nowhere near as tall as The Shard, for example, and it doesn't shake about like the London Eye. It's basically just a big circular room with floor to ceiling glass, and they've got a couple of touchscreens dotted around to show you what's what. And for some strange reason that I have never fully understood, they've also installed a couple of funny mirrors like you find at the funfair.
There are actually two different observation levels, one below the other, and the lowest one is where the daredevil tube riders line up to die.
I really cannot stress enough how terrifying this ride is -- it's the scariest thing in London. I would definitely think twice before sending a little kid down it.
I’ve been here more than once…
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