After a relatively uneventful American Airlines flight to London, we were confronted with one of the worst transfer and security clusterfucks we've ever experienced. Getting from terminal 3 to terminal 5 required several vigorous sprints to suddenly intransigent massive queues. Busses weren't running directly from the terminal as advertised. So we walked, I swear, over a mile just to get to the stupid busses. Very little signage, and a lot of dumb guesses. The only upside was a chance conversation in the terminal bus with a geriatric red-nosed man who chatted me up because I was wearing my "Slava Ukraini" shirt. Turns out he's an ethnic Hungarian who fought in the '56 uprising and went into exile in the US, where he's lived (in California and Oregon) since that time. When he mentioned he was going to visit Debrecen, I responded in Hungarian "Debrecenben voltam. Tanultam magyarul." He was blown away. So then I got my history nerd on, and we ended ...