For a reason I fail to see, people seem to find amusing the fact that I am flying through Poland in my way home. The funniest things I've heard have been: "Because there is such a long distance between Copenhagen and Bucharest that you really need to make a stop somewhere" or "They haven't heard of Romania in Copenhagen, that's why you need to stop in Warsaw?" Relax, people, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey. (And also about the fact that I am too young and poor to afford a ticket without a stop.) I have no ideea what I want to write about, but otherwise I could make 100 posts - this is the only airport I have been into that hasn't transformed the simple and pure joy of wi-fi into business. Yet. So - due to lack of divine inspiration, but also to a burning desire to lay on the cold seats and not get up for at least 2 days, I've decided to share the story of how I've given up on coffee - that is, copy paste what