Ultimate Wimbledon Experience
From Ball Girls to Ballroom
If you’re a tennis fan, you know it’s Wimbledon time. So I thought it’d be the perfect excuse to share my “Ultimate Wimbledon Experience.”
In 2010, I spent two days at the premier tennis event, getting the inside scoop. And make no mistake, you need a strategy. Just wandering the grounds of the AELTC (All England Lawn Tennis Club) hoping to see a great match won’t work.
Here’s what I learned:
Published “Order of Play” schedules are unreliable. We checked who’s playing on which court in the paper that morning, then rechecked it in the daily printed program (£8). Neither was right, which is a problem because you need to commit to a court early to ensure you get seats.
For instance, we were surprised when we scored courtside seats on Court 12 to cheer for Sam Querrey, only to find we had Xavier Malisse and Julian Reister (who they?) duke it out instead. Turned out to be an excellent match, but flexibility is key.
Pick a Court and Stay There. See above. Once you start changing your mind, you’re screwed. Say, you want to see the record-breaking Isner match, you’d need to line up outside the courts for 2.5 hours to snag a seat, peeking between the flower boxes to watch the preceding matches.
Go with a friend. Designate one person to wait in line (see above) and the other becomes the runner – for a refreshing Pimm’s (£6.70), oily Chinese take-away (£8), or bathroom break. A relay system is essential.
Don’t be tempted by Henman Hill. If you want to watch the matches on TV, stay home. The hill is a bit of a madhouse – lots of rowdy Brits, which sounds like it could be fun, but isn’t. Even after getting coveted spots at one of the few picnic tables, I still just put my head down to go to sleep. I blamed jet lag, but I think it was just all the ruckus around me.
The Queue is a Crapshoot. When we decided to go to Wimbledon, people asked if we had tickets, and my answer was “why no.” We had heard about “The Queue,” where spectators wait outside on the lawn each morning for the release of 6,000 daily ground-only passes (£20). That was our grand plan.
The Queue worked great the first day. We arrived about 9:15 am, assumed our place in the very orderly line, and settled down to wait until about noon. We sat on our maps, read the paper for the daily line-up, and chatted up the people next to us. Very pleasant indeed.
The second day, as we emerged from the tube at the Southfield stop (note: you don’t actually disembark at the Wimbledon stop), an announcer told us the wait in the Queue was now 11 hours, and there were more people than tickets available.
Time to get scrappy, ‘cause I didn’t just fly all that way across the pond to go to Wimbledon for just 1 day. Good thing, I’m supremely lucky.
In fact, I had my very own Wimbledon Fairy Godfather.
As fate would have it, sitting next to me on my flight from Dallas to Heathrow was the head of the Pakistan Tennis Association. He was going to Wimbledon for a full 2 weeks of tennis as an official international delegate and invited me to be his guest.
Now, the first few days, I was too busy to give him a call (cough), but suddenly found time right there outside the Southfield tube stop.
It worked! I made a plan to meet him at Gate 4, and he would see if he could score my friend and me some extra tickets.
After a little wait, Wimbledon Fairy Godfather delivered with prized Court 2 tickets in hand. Clijsters here we come! Jancovic – nice to meet ya! Williams sisters, we’re cheering for you. Whoo Hoo! Thank you Wimbledon Fairy Godfather!
Fairy Godfather, of course, had Centre Court seats, so my friend and I were on our own most of the day (not entirely a bad thing). We did manage to meet up again that afternoon for a traditional Wimbledon tea. Strawberries and cream, smoked salmon, chicken salad finger sandwiches, scones and clotted cream. I’ll have the Earl Grey, thanks!
It turned out to be a fantastic day, especially with a couple more Pimm’s + lemonade and a day of amazing tennis. Life was good!
However, it wasn’t the last of Wimbledon Fairy Godfather. He asked me to accompany him to the Wimbledon Ball, a black-tie event, to be held that Saturday night at the exclusive Hurlington Club in the Fulham section of London.
I could easily have declined, but I believe that if one is asked to go to the Wimbledon ball, one should go.
Of course, I hadn’t packed a formal gown, but a black-tie gala event was the perfect excuse for a little London shopping. I ended up with a beautiful grey silk Grecian gown by a Japanese designer. And soon to follow: strappy silver high heels, a sequined purse and feathered fascinator (because England!). I was set for the ball and feeling every bit the Cinderella.
The night of the ball, I was whisked away in my very own official Wimbledon car. Before getting in, I had a nice little side chat with the chauffeur. I explained to him that he was to bring me straight back to my hotel after the ball. Making it very clear that under no circumstances was he to take me anywhere else. He gave me a firm nod, and we had an understanding.
The ball was quite an affair. Nearly 700 tennis dignitaries from around the world gathered to honor former Wimbledon champion, Virginia Wade. We had cocktails on the outside patio (more Pimm’s!), followed by a dinner of lobster, duck, and basil sherbet for dessert. It was a grand affair!
At the end of the night, invitations to the Australian and French Opens followed, as well as an offer for a personalized tour of Pakistan. But for once in my life, I decided not to push my luck.
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Christened “Wander Woman” by National Geographic, Erin Michelson has traveled to 140 countries & all 7 continents. She is a professional speaker and author of the Nomad Life™ series of curated trips and travel guides, including the #1-ranked Explore the World with Nomads.
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