Heathrow is Bad

Typing this from the T-Mobile Hot Spot in Terminal 1
at Heathrow, and while we've only been amongst its
WHSmiths and Dixons Tax Frees for 4 hours, I've
developed a lifetime's worth of loathing for the
place. Our connecting flight to Paris has been
cancelled -- no explanation, although it seems that
about half BMI's schedule has been axed this morning
-- and we've been rebooked on a flight 3 1/2 hours
from now. There goes our first day in Paris. Even my
one saving grace, an FM radio (with mp3 recording
feature!) hasn't provided much respite: the staticky
Radio 1 morning show with Chris Moyles played the same
Madonna and Franz Ferdinand songs (along with some
utterly annoying track called "I Like Girls")
(although in different circumstances I might have
liked it) that I hear all day in the so-called
"States." In other words: I'm crabby.

I suppose if BMI cancels our next flight to Paris and
we're stuck in London for the day, we could try and
make some calls to get a "surprise DJ appearance"
booked somewhere. If anyone reading this knows
anybody, maybe make some preliminary calls.

Trying to focus on the positive: the (ahem) brekky at
the weird "world beat"-themed restaurant had a very
tasty giant grilled mushroom, which we have decided
will be our new cause in San Francisco, trying to get
restaurants to include a grilled mushroom as part of
their standard brunch fare. Could have done without
the stewed tomato though.

Also focusing on the positive by imagining the worse:
our original flight was booked through Chicago with a
very short, 45-minute layover, and I had visions of
missing that Paris flight and spending the entire
weekend in Chicago, and with a winter storm apparently
moving into the area perhaps that fear wasn't
unfounded. So, worst case scenario, we hop in that
Chunnel thing. Don't worry France, we will soon reach
your borders.