Manchester Airport
Jul. 23rd, 2022 01:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtbcI have made camp in Terminal 2 of Manchester Airport. I can't claim to be impressed by the experience so far. In the US, transferring from terminal 3 would have involved a monorail or somesuch. Here, it was a fair walk, punctuated by an unexpected elevator ride, which was fine for me, being fairly fit and able-bodied and in no hurry, but I suspect hardly ideal for some. Part of the walk involved moving walkways that weren't moving. Being back in England, I again violated the local
There are bright sides. For example, the transfer between terminals did not include the Heathrow experience of a crowded bus, I have already noted to myself not to book a claustrophobic person such an itinerary. And, I am not one of the poor souls who booked a vacation with TUI (
The flight into Manchester had a safety information card as strange as usual. Some of them appear to tell me to throw the baby down the burning staircase, or similar. This one appeared to tell me that, if one wing of the aircraft is buried in the ground then I ought not use my false teeth. Fortunately, these circumstances tend not to arise.
Terminal 2 is fairly unwelcoming but gets kudos for hassle-free wifi. I treated myself to an almond croissant and a latte at Prêt à Manger, thus briefly sampling the life of the fancy people I see. These days it seems to be simply
Near international arrivals was a foreign lady who was most upset with her interlocutor, who remained unknown to me at the other end of her cellphone call. With her being alone with luggage, I wondered if she had some choice words to share about a boyfriend or somesuch. As she did not seem to be at a loss, I did the English thing of pretending that her dramatic conversation had gone without notice. I can telephone people who know about how to get around the city and such but she appeared to have a course of action and I was glad to leave her to it.
dogs must be carriedrule, I simply didn't have one handy.
There are bright sides. For example, the transfer between terminals did not include the Heathrow experience of a crowded bus, I have already noted to myself not to book a claustrophobic person such an itinerary. And, I am not one of the poor souls who booked a vacation with TUI (
Live Happy), I got to walk past the long queue stretching well out of the terminal.
The flight into Manchester had a safety information card as strange as usual. Some of them appear to tell me to throw the baby down the burning staircase, or similar. This one appeared to tell me that, if one wing of the aircraft is buried in the ground then I ought not use my false teeth. Fortunately, these circumstances tend not to arise.
Terminal 2 is fairly unwelcoming but gets kudos for hassle-free wifi. I treated myself to an almond croissant and a latte at Prêt à Manger, thus briefly sampling the life of the fancy people I see. These days it seems to be simply
Pret, presumably because it is now even cooler. Outside a motley selection of groundside stores there are but a few chairs, none near a power outlet. I have plugged in by situating myself atop a metal heating grate by an exterior door, near the fellow who welcomes the UEFA VIPs, not that I realized any might be coming. Though, from what I have seen, none have. Perhaps nobody knows that day and hour but he keeps a lookout anyway.
Near international arrivals was a foreign lady who was most upset with her interlocutor, who remained unknown to me at the other end of her cellphone call. With her being alone with luggage, I wondered if she had some choice words to share about a boyfriend or somesuch. As she did not seem to be at a loss, I did the English thing of pretending that her dramatic conversation had gone without notice. I can telephone people who know about how to get around the city and such but she appeared to have a course of action and I was glad to leave her to it.
