Terminal 3? 5? what??

So we were in London, customs were over with and we had 9 hours to kill. 
We decided to locate our flight gate, to play it safe. 
We walked
And walked
And walked.
NO INFORMATION DESKS WERE OPEN.
In fact, pretty much everything was closing!
What kind of airport closes at 9!? This triggered a list of why we hate Heathrow a few hours later...
All the restaurants and shops were closed, and the only people we could ask were the janitors, who spoke very poor English, and simply mumbled and pointed.

 Our ticket said American airlines, so we walked OUTSIDE in this crazy purple lit pathway to get to the departure section.


  We decided to stay near the bag check for American Airlines for the night... we found a bench. An aluminum bench. It was cold. And hard. But, that was all we had.

We realized we hadn't really eaten anything in 7 hours.. and THANK GOD for Sabina's Mom, who packed some food. We opened up our dinner, and dug in.

Hummus wheat thins, and peanut butter crackers. It was delicious.

Due to our... condition, we found it difficult to get comfortable, and didn't sleep. Instead, we took periodic walks around, went up the escalator, wrote in our journals, and refilled our water supplies in the airport bathroom.

We were at that "past tired" stage and were a little insane... nothing we did or said made much sense.

Luckily, I packed my book of comforting thoughts. Which unfortunately brought no comfort.

 I would have blogged then, but the Internet cost 10 euros, and I didn't feel like it.

So finally, at about 3:45-4 am, we  saw some people examining the flight board to much confusion. We found that the one man was on our flight, but the other woman who had booked her flight with a travel agent, was on a flight that didn't exist... we unofficially teamed up, and called the help desk. The women found out that our flight was in terminal 5, and we were in terminal 3.  This didn't sound too bad, she asked what the quickest way to get there was. Turned out, our only chance of making it in time was taking the cab, even that was a 10- 15 minute drive. On the highway. We'd forgotten Heathrow was one of the biggest airports in the world. 

We realized we had no English money, and the women simply handed us 20 pounds, without hesitation. Sabina handed her a $20. It was a beautiful moment, I wish I'd take a picture. We wished each other luck, and Sabina, the man, and I ran outside in search of a taxi at 4 am.

He was smoking a cigarette, had a lazy eye, and an old orange bag slung over his shoulder. Pretty much the person your parents tell you to avoid. But we were desperate. We found a cab who was waiting for someone else, but after we explained our situation, and realized no other cab was insight, he agreed to take us. That was one of the most stressful moments... he was from Brazil, and I wasn't sure if he would take us to terminal 5, or his basement. 

But we arrived, and Sabina and I ran off into the airport. We saw the flight board, and there it was. Flight BA456, which turned out to be through British airways, not American.  But then, we heard the man calling after us. I felt kinda nervous, but all he wanted to do was pay us for the cab. He handed us $10, and invited us to join him for some coffee. Against my better judgement I agreed. Sabina and I ordered some green tea, and we chatted a bit. Turned out he was from Slovakia, which explained his accent, and was on his way to Guatemala. We finished our drinks, which he payed for, against our will, and wished each other luck, and Sabina and I ran off for security. 

After running up very steep escalators, the airport trains, and dodging many people, we made it to terminal B34.  What luck. Had it not been for that man, and the lady, we never would have made it, we would still be in London.. I never got their names, but I wish I had. Thank you.

But we made it,and we where on our way to Madrid.