London 2012's opening ceremony united the Kingdom last Friday, as the spectacle Danny Boyle directed inside the Olympic Stadium intensified expectation ahead of the first day of track and field events a week later.
For tens of thousands, Friday 3 August presented a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For yours truly, it is the first of several arduous, but privileged days spent at the Stadium covering Team GB poster boys and girls, as well as anticipating the emergence of Usain Bolt, amongst others.
Typically, that old antagonist transport escaped its quarters to wreak havoc. The one suspension on the whole of the under and overground was between Bethnal Green and Leytonstone. Stratford just happened to be sandwiched in between the two east London destinations for a cynical start.
Jessica Ennis, the poster girl not just of Team GB but also the Games, making her bow at these London Olympics running the 400m hurdles heat at 10.10am.
The fire rises
Having frantically hopped on to the Jubilee line - via Hammersmith and City - in a frantic bid to make it for the Sheffield heptathlete's first run, eventually I entered the Park just gone 10am.
Closer to the Stadium, it looks more ostentatious than it does from a distance. Comparisons will forever be made with the stadia and wow-factor in Beijing four years ago, but while the the structure of Stratford's equivalent may not be a sight to behold, it tingled the spine of this Brit.
Once inside, the goosebumps then arose. Although I'd witnessed several venues already, the Stadium is the heart of an Olympics, and at 10.08am, it was difficult to pinpoint a spare seat in the house. Athletes were warming up and competing down below, the sensational cauldron was ablaze and the sun shone brightly - the Games embodied.
And its aura does radiate. Modern stadia is rightly regarded as soulless, plasticised shopping malls, but the bowl-shaped Olympic Stadium, essentially featuring just two tiers, brings together all the attendants. Some stadiums, such as Old Trafford or Wembley's third tiers, ostracise supporters from proceedings, but Stratford's landmark united everyone.
The DJ pleased those in the press tribunes and spectator seats. The Beach Boys, The Smiths, Pulp, The Jam and The Cure were all aired whilst shot-putters, steeple chasers and heptathletes competed. What the Olympians' opinions are of the racket is yet to be established, but the beach volleyball bash at Horse Guards Parade may have a rival.
Ennis and her fellow heptathletes were readying themselves as I nestled into my seat, and then she took off. Watching the 26-year-old from Sheffield running at full tilt, with the British support roaring louder and louder, was as gladiatorial as it was exciting.
That the crowd abetted Ennis as she finished first and smashed the British hurdles record in the process was a patriotic advertisement complemented by Dai Greene and Christine Ohuruogu's easy qualifications. A week on from Boyle's ballyhoo, the athletes had fortified the unity.