Two words: moving sidewalks.
Yes, we have them in airports, but in the filmstrips of my youth (there, I've gone and done it -- only about three of you know what those are) I was promised MOVING SIDEWALKS. EVERYWHERE. DAMMIT!
Whenever I think broken promises, I think moving sidewalks.
And whenever I ride on the airport versions, I note, disapprovingly, how they stop every 75 feet or so, presumably so we can jump-start the blood in our legs after soooooooooooooooo much inactivity. Weak.
