Always Busy in Getting Lost

When St. Jude hit London, on 27th Oct. 2013, I was at Victoria Station, trying to get a bus ticket to the airport. I has spent the previous ten days between Stockholm and the U.K. in order to write an article on the punk underground scenes of a couple of northern cities.
The fury of the storm was well described by the giant glass-doors, and the chaos created by hundreds of people fitted perfectly with the whole apocalypse's scenario. When I got my ticket, my plane had already taken off, so I went spending the next 2 hours of bus-in-traffic-jam wondering about how to spend the following 14 hours waiting for the next fly to Italy.
I was pretty down when I arrived to Heathrow, but after all it wasn't the first time I got stuck in airport, so I had my well-trained personal schedule, with a couple of things to do and a couple of advices to myself.
step 1 - all things must be done really, really slow: in this cases, there's one thing you have plenty of, and it's time.
step 2 - prefer small-sized/long-lasting food: if you're not a smoker, inactivity will lead you to eat. Often. So I spent my last small change at the local M&S in bread, cold meatball, cookies etc. The more you wait, the tastier they get.
step 3 - you're not the only one: on one hand, this provides you complaining buddies and stories to tell and listen, but when stress and tiredness start to kick (we're in a airport, so I'd say at about 6pm), people can get quite irritable, and this includes you, too. Search for a couple of sits (or an armchair, if available) to build your own kingdom: they have to be decently confortable and well-defensible from other animals.
step 4 - be thrifty. To get through 14 hours, you could only have one newspaper, one book, one hour of wi-fi. At least you don't keep on inventing non-existing mail addresses and passwords.
As I said, it wasn't the first nor the last time it happened to me, on the contrary I was pretty used to that, and this is the funniest thing about constant tripping: you usually run from other people's routines, but it always comes a time when you realized you have routines too. They're just craziest or more dangerous or worse for your nerves. That's why you love them.