Where to, Love?

British Airways is quite an intriguing thing.  Everything seems a little more proper but not the classiest.  Allow me to illustrate my meaning with a few photos.  

Firstly, Highlife Shop, aka, the UK's version of SkyMall.  SkyMall displays all the high priced and unique items one would expect to find if there actually was a floating shopping mall in the sky that takes a plane to get to.  Jane Jetson is the only person I know that would actually purchase anything there.  

Here, in the Highlife, they don't help you spoil your pets, order a wall-sized crossword puzzle nor provide you with a replica Ron Weasley wand (with real imitation unicorn hair).  It is just a bunch of really fancy wines, watches, perfumes, and confections.  I was hoping for the English equivalent to cupcake rug.

What is better in Britain than the food?  Well, It's not the water.  I got a swig from a Heathrow drinking fountain.  Tasted like I was sipping from a sulphur cauldron, chilled a least. At least on the plane, they give you a shot of milk with every meal.

Now, I guess I missed the options when I was buying my ticket, but I totally missed what my meal options would be.  So, when the bun-up flight attendant asked, "Chicken, curry, or cheese lasagna?"  I replied simply, "Chicken."  I was given a tray with a warm aluminium covered entrée.  Yep, this story doesn't work as well in text.  I should have written, what I heard was, "Chicken, curry, or cheese lasagna?"  Take our a few of those commas, and what I actually got was chicken curry.  Curry?  Really?  9 hour flight.  9 hours of the same recirculated air, few tiny lavatories, and transatlantic turbulence?   

    

 Yeah, Heathrow toilets are not something to wait for either.  With communication and idea sharing where it is today, Jerry Seinfeld wonders why Asians still use chopsticks, and I wonder why this toilet tissue comes out in individual sheets.  We changed this game about 130 years ago.  "Picture me rollin'." ~Tupac

Found this little nugget when I woke up after a bumpy slumber party in the jet stream.  (Surprisingly, sleeping whilst flying through the air is a lot like sleeping on a waterbed.  A little jostle every now and again, just feels natural.)  Turns out, this little gem was in my breakfast package.  Granlola....I hope.  

 This, on the other hand, no clue.  Trust-eating something when you can only identify less than 10% of the key ingredients.  And that is even after tasting it.  Luckily, I had another shot of milk to wash it down, this time a little more GoGurtesque.   

 This is seriously the longest escalator ever.  Fortunately it works.  But still, the descension this flight is the reason they give you extra time in your layover.  Along with that, I got to ride the tram from terminal to terminal.  This site tells us something else about the safety history of this tram.

A normal overcast day in London proper.  Not the easiest to get a clear picture of the Thames.  But I have seen it.  Mark it, dude.