Turns out that the Istanbul flight departs from Terminal 2, not the fancy new Terminal 4. Terminal 2 is a relic of oh I dunno maybe the 80s? The amenities are dog-eared and even in the heyday the place was no prize. Wi-fi is pay-as-you-go, but there are places to plug in, and I’m paid-up and in-plugged.
The food question is a bit vexed, with a few of the usual suspects (Starbucks, etc.) and some one-offs. We surveyed the possibilities and were taken in by something called Croque™ Madame, which had at least the possibility of something cooked by human hands.
![Croque](http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5527/9644734079_4ba3172913_z.jpg)
We opted for the eponymous Croque. You get what you pay for, I suppose, and for lotsa money tis is what we got:
![CroqueMadam](http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7319/9647584342_21a626f3e8_z.jpg)
![curiouscroissant](http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7358/9644345499_b529d683aa_z.jpg)
Betsy was good-natured about the experience:
![Bscroque](http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3758/9647586610_04f3c5f443_z.jpg)
and it ended as all such meals do:
![raggedremnants](http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5517/9647600450_8da0ae6419_z.jpg)
Note the cutlery: because we’re on the Air Side, it’s plastic. The fork flexes and the knife is not a cutter. But that’s how it goes once one is in the maw of the travel gods.