The London 2012 opening ceremony's moving spectacle has, for the time being at least, acted as a harbinger for Britons to appreciate magnitude of the United Kingdom hosting the Olympic Games. But after the curtain-raiser the doom-mongers expected transport, the antagonist of the tragi-comedy, to enter stage left.
At yours truly's own station this morning, one woman's exaggerated cries about "only four carriages" accompanying a train-load of commuters to Victoria - which usually boasts double the amount - and how "ridiculous" it was, represented an early indication of the cynicism which festers throughout the country.
Lo and behold, there were not four carriages, but the usual amount - eight. She's still wiping the yolk from her face.
The acid test wasn't a trek in from Kent, but the city. My route - Victoria to Oxford Circus, then the Central line to Stratford before DLR to Stratford International - was estimated to take 38 minutes.
What a pleasant surprise then that evil, ne'er-do-well transport was kept at bay. The tube was puzzlingly sparse between 7.30 and 8am and although it will undoubtedly host a greater quantity during the day, I and others designated to disembark at Stratford couldn't complain. I clocked it as taking 10 minutes less than the TubeMap app predicted.
So early did I arrive at Stratford (8.15am) that I decided to walk with the families and tourists to the Olympic Park. The perks of owning a journalist's accreditation dangler meant I didn't have to queue with the ticket-holders and was helpfully guided to a media security booth.
And at 8.30am I was within the perimeters of the Park making the jaunty walk past the Olympic Stadium towards the Media Centre. There was no comedy, but there was no tragedy either.