Earl of Sandwich @ Terminal E

Already my flight has been delayed twice.  Three and a half hours more of people watching is fine by me, though....WRITING MATERIAL GALORE!  Nary a Hare Krishna, though.  How DID that get started?  Is that just true in those Airplane movies?  Or  might I someday actually see some of those figures in orange waving their flowers in an airport?  This is just one of the things I wonder about when plane waiting. 

I passed on the wine tasting at "Vino Volo" in favor of a caramel ribbon crunch Frappucino at Starbucks, but perhaps the wine might have made that god-awful underheated slice of olive, mushroom, and spinach pizza palatable.   The really important piece of this whole journey so far, however, is that I managed to score the last table next to a power outlet so I can fuel my MacBook.

From my seat I can see that it is 3280 miles to London.  3836 miles to Milan.  3749 miles to Zurich.  And the Earl of Sandwich is "The World's Greatest Hot Sandwich".  I'd like to strike down that proclamation on the visual evidence alone.  Why are tuna melts in the cooler?  It's not as if they are going to be reheated on the grill.  The whole lot of 'em are each neatly wrapped and stickered in cellophane.  Should I feel the need for a vanilla or strawberry yogurt parfait in the next couple hours, I will have to check the price on those false sandwiches.  

Now:

The Lufthansa guy is yelling in German over the loudspeaker.

The folks behind me are talking about Salzburg.

The woman in front of me commented "That was the easiest check-in I've had since 9/11"
    >should I be worried????<

A British Airways plane is on the tarmac outside the window.

There's also an Alitalia plane that is taxiing out to the runway.  That's another trip on my list....Rome, Naples, Capri, Cinque Terra, Amalfi Coast, Florence; Venice before it disappears into the sea. 

I'm on my second round of table companionship.  A nice young man with a Burger King bag and an iPhone; dressed in a pink and white check shirt and gray hoodie.  Black-rimmed glasses.

My Frappucino is gone.  If it weren't for the unbelievable amount of calories and fat I'd go and get another one.  But I'm thinking some water and maybe a bit of fruit would be more prudent.  I've got a lot of ground to cover when I land in London.  In walking AND in scones.  I'm hoping to tackle the ladies swimming pond at Hampstead Heath tomorrow or Wednesday.  I suppose it doesn't matter if it's raining or not.  Or even how cold it is.  The swimming is year round, after all.  Mind over matter.