Every multi-story has a vibe. The top floor is windy and romantic. The bottom floor is damp and mysterious.
But NCP Birmingham International has a special floor. The one near the airport link. It smells faintly of hot brakes and duty-free perfume.
It’s a bizarre cocktail. You don’t know if you’re starting a holiday or running away from your problems. Probably both.
The Dance of the Ticket Machine
You arrive at the barrier. You press the button. The machine spits out a little plastic rectangle.
Grab it. Do not lose it. That flimsy slip of plastic is now your most valuable possession. It is the key to freedom.
If you lose it, the NCP system panics. It charges you a “lost ticket fee” that costs more than a vintage wine. Keep it in your bra. In your sock. Tattoo it on your arm.
