That is my day. It is currently one in the morning at home, but it is the beginning of a new day here at Heathrow. This airport is patently absurd… I could buy a Coach purse if I wanted to spend $500 on nonsense. As it is, I am just eating weird food and listening to the accents that are chattering around me while I charge my laptop and my ipod. (Ms. Pac-Man really drains the battery on the old iPod).

The trip is going well, I haven’t done anything too embarassing (unless you count hitting the bitchy businessman across the aisle from me on the flight out of Pocatello in the face with my carry-on. Sorry, guy.)
I saw the London sights from the plane, so I am officially counting this as a visit.

Now, if only they would tell me what gate my flight is going to come out of five hours from now, life would be really good.

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