But the Manchester airport is so cute! The grandmotherly information desk lady gave me 10 minutes of highly detailed directions, drawing it all out on a piece of paper (which she insisted I take), for driving out of the airport to the main road. She was convinced that I'd get lost on what she clearly considered a scary metrolopolitan road system rivaling Los Angeles'.In reality the small airport road went straight to a clearly marked entrance ramp onto the main road.
I discovered that one time when my flight home from Manchester was four hours late (and so was everyone else's, due to storms) and there was nothing to eat in the whole terminal and nothing to drink except Coke. I don't think there were even vending machines.
But they do have automated massage chairs...
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