Meetings have become a universal metaphor for boredom. It’s where people talk about things you don’t care about and they go on forever and there’s a very real chance you’ll expire from sheer tedium. And it’s true, many meetings do fall into that precise category. (By the way, if you’re in a meeting and somebody uses the phrase precise category, that’s the category of meeting you’re in. Precisely.) But not all of them. I’ve been in meetings where both people and guns were fired. I’ve been in meetings that would have shamed Roman bacchanals. I was in one meeting where someone was thrown out a window—twice. (Different windows, though.) It all depends on who you’re meeting with, and what you happen to be discussing. Meeting with two Thunderbirds in a supernatural dimension to discuss the murder of a third was unlikely to be boring. I wondered if I should bring snacks. [Are you sure this is wise?] Whiskey asked as we left the library. [Ben isn’t really in shape to make this sort of decision.] “Which is why I’m going to convince him to turn her down.”
