After my flight’s 6:00 a.m. arrival at Keflavik International Airport, I made a stop to get coffee, dehydrating myself further than had already been accomplished by the five-hour flight. The brew, dispensed from a machine reminiscent of those found in the office kitchen of a large corporation, was lackluster, but caffeinated enough to jar me back to semi-consciousness. Aware of the fact that I would probably be too sleep-deprived (and lazy) to cook by the time I’d arrive at the hostel, I also bought a sandwich to eat later in the day.  It was prepackaged, the type that’s commonplace at every restaurant and café in most major airports, the kind that’s usually more disappointing than a Starbucks sandwich, but less likely to induce illness than cafeteria pizza. And so I had low expectations, the only one being that I wouldn’t be maddeningly hungry by the evening. After eating it for lunch at the hostel, however, I came to the delusional conclusion that the sandwich–labeled as egg, lettuce, and tomato–consisting of (and I hope your deductive reasoning skills were strong enough to come to this conclusion) egg, lettuce and tomato, and a mayonnaise-based sauce, was composed of a genius combination of ingredients—and though this wasn’t the case, it was pretty good…for airport food.