I recently embarked upon a disorientatingly short excursion across the country to Seattle, ostensibly for work, but spent most of my waking hours gazing out of the hotel window, observing the mechanical and human traffic in the streets below: omnibus, quaint old tram, newfangled monorail, passenger car, motorbike including sidecar, pedal bicycle, pedestrian, infant perambulator and possibly even sedan chair, although I may have dreamt that last one.
Unfortunately, I rarely ventured outside myself. Confinement to a bright and beige mezzanine function room, listening to horrendous bores drone on and on about the patently obvious was the order of the day, as usual. Oh how I wished we could all board one of those buses or trams to the famous Pike Place fish market and then fling flanks of smoked salmon at our colleagues' heads all day. Perhaps we might actually have accomplished something and made the trip worthwhile.