As we pulled onto the slip road that would eventually lead to the terminals, the city looked small behind us. The towering glass of West India Quay was just a collection of lights on the horizon now, a flickering memory of where the day’s work had happened.
The cab ride is the punctuation mark at the end of the sentence. It’s the moment you finally let go of the keyboard and the meeting agendas, allowing the rhythm of the road to carry you toward the next destination. And as we pulled up to the departures terminal, the door opening to the cool, windy air of the drop-off zone, I felt that familiar, quiet readiness.https://airportridetransfers.c....om/coverage/west-ind
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