Now this is fun for a Friday evening1. Apparently the good (and possibly not so good) people of Washington D.C. have discovered that the quickest way to manage the commute near the airport there is to buy a cup of coffee. That, apparently, is equivalent to going to the airport.
Hence, “airport business” has become a euphemism. In Minnesota, the politicians may use it to mean something else.
fn1. For differing definitions of “fun”.
Ha! Cool! I grew up around that airport in DC. My parents’ house is about a mile away from Dulles Toll Road and I had to suffer through its horrific gridlock every single day on my drive to high school. How I wish I had known about airport business then! I am telling you, it would have saved me a year’s worth of hours in the commute. My approach to getting around the traffic was much less refined than coffee – I drove on the shoulder… and got a ticket.
That Minnesota cop looks about twelve! Very sweet, don’t you think?
Can you come up with any “Railway Business” to help me and other NPG staff with the hell of our “Kings Cross commute”? Trying to get a cup of coffee, even, is a half-hour queue but that is far from the worst of it.
How about moving the Nature offices to somewhere quieter, like Norfolk?
I see that the definition of ‘doing airport business’, according to the police, must involve stopping the car. I wonder if heeding the call of nature on the soft shoulder counts?
How about moving the Nature offices to somewhere quieter, like Norfolk?
No! Keep it away! I’d rather have Norfolk to myself, and endure Railway Business of my own.
What about taking that train that pulls in at platform 9 and 3/4? Aside from a few busy days in September, December, March or thereabouts and June, you shouldn’t have any queue whatsoever. They even serve beverages on the train.
Oh that’s brilliant! Rules are there to be tested to their limits!
Oh, Heather, I know. The problem with Platform 9 3/4 is being able to get a clear tun at it without all those gawping tourists in the way. That, and the fact that it calls only at some unplottable castle in a remote part of the world that’s far too mountainous to be Norfolk.
tun? That’s to tardigrades. I meant ‘run’. Of course I did.