Second, I am still in the British Airways Terrace Lounge. I feel like this place is my tomb. I will die here for sure. I keep on staring at the flight announcement board, waiting for something good to happen, but alas, there is no hope, it seems like I will neer get out of the airport.
Oh wait, I think it told me to go to Gate 38. It is possible that I am leaving this god foresaken place called Heathrow. yes, it is my flight...and it is time for me to go. finally, after hours of endless waiting in this cess pool, I am almost free. which is a good thing, because otherwise I was going to play on the tarmac out of sheer boredom.