The Living Nightmare

It is approximately 12:23 (or 00:23 as this clock says) in London, England and the North British Airline Gatwick Terminal. I am tired, hungry, freezing, dirty, crying, don't have the right currency, and so frustrated beyond belief I'm surprised I haven't internally combusted.
Let's start at the beginning. Waking up 5:30 am California time, I decided against showering, make up, and contacts. I still hold by that choice. And everything went smoothly at home base LAX. Sure I was definitely claustrophobic in my uncomfortable seat, but the older woman sitting next to me was nice and would sometimes entertain with racist jokes and tails about her native Spain, and eventual Spanish cursing at the unhelpful attendants. Four hours into the flight, they finally share that they cannot land at JFK airport due to storms and eventually have to land somewhere else to refuel. Around 6, the time I was supposed to land in New York, I instead find myself in Baltimore, where I am waiting on the plane for the next couple of hours. After docking, refueling, getting back in the air, and circling around even more until they let us land, I entire JFK airport after 11 pm, having missed my connection to Zurich.
After more faulty directions, I find my self in line to somehow reroute my ticket. I did enjoy talking to the two Londoners waiting behind me. They were headed to Bolivia to go hike in the hottest dessert and go on this death road where about 1 person dies every day. Doesn't sound fun, but I liked listening to them talk about it. While there, I see a friendly face in Michelle, who I was supposed to travel with the rest of the way to Florence, and she, too, missed the connection. However, she flew Delta, and I American Airlines, and so her reroute was booked differently and before mine. Of course there is only 1, sometimes 2, tellers working at our ticketing area, and by the time it is my turn to talk it is 3am NY time (I kept my blanket from the plane, but at this point it was obvious I should have followed my instincts and grabbed an unopened upper class pillow/blank combination while leaving the plane). Anything getting my remotely close to Michelle's flight is already sold out, and instead I am given a ticket that wouldn't leave JFK until 6pm, go to Milan, Rome, then arrive at Florence at 2:20. Nothing else to do I take the ticket, and Michelle and I finally know that we will not meet up with the other 2 girls waiting for us in Florence (they have both arrived there at this time).
After this, we figure it is about time to locate our luggage. However, since we both had a connection to Zurich and the bags were probably sent ahead, no one can tell us for sure where our luggage is.
Walking in a daze, we hope to find food in another terminal (this fails and we end up with only vitamin water and a chair). While having a million silent freak outs about traveling foreign by myself, my mom has been working hard on the phone to try and find me a different flight. Grudgingly, I make my way back to AA ticketing to try and rework my flight.
Around 5am I receive frantic calls/texts from my mom saying they found a different flight. One that leaves for London at 8am; I would be in London overnight; and arrive in Florence less than an hour after Michelle. So we take it, and I head to the British Airlines terminal.
Of course self check in wasn't working, so I had to go search for an attendant for help. This ended up being a small blessing and I found a teller who had just sat down (aka I didn't wait in line) and she was willing to help. Besides checking me in, she also issued a claim for my lost baggage, and empathized with my by telling my to go see her friend Dominic in the Lounge (for people who pay more money). But before I could reach that destination, I had to be pat down (of course) at security check because I kept beeping and they didn't know why. But I made it to the lounge eventually and was able to help my self to free breakfast, a comfy chair, and quiet environment (currently my last luxury and last good meal). All too soon I found myself having to board another plane (I was stuck in the middle of 3 which is the worse), but was somehow able to doze for the most of the flight (I also tried to down some of their nasty airline food).
I arrive in London safely, but with the prospect of facing another night in an airport (also separate to the one I was currently in).
After waiting for an hour at border customs (only one teller working again), I find baggage services and make an inquiry after my luggage. Still nothing. But the man, Walter I think, was nice at least. He told me where I wanted to go (North BA Gatwick) and that once I get there to go straight to BA ticketing, make them check my itinerary, and tell them to give me some accommodations. He also tells me the way to the transportation that says I wouldn't have to pay for.
Of course, doesn't work out. Beginning with my having to pay (I don't have the right currency and have to use my card. Now I'm hoping they won't freeze me because they did not know I was going to London), and go outside to wait for the bus. Once it arrives the driver tells me I can't take my "luggage" (I wish, it was only a backpack) on board. As I try to argue with him, he just gives me this look like I'm the stupidest of idiots and I'm even more frustrated. I then proceed on the almost hour long bus ride where I'm not able to stop crying and have had trouble completely stopping ever since. I was even too delirious to enjoy driving on the wrong side of the street. Once I finally get to the correct terminal, I find it even colder and the information desk closed. Then I go to hunt for the BA ticketing.
I found it.
Closed.
Until closer to 2:30.
Of course.
So now I'm sitting (at least the chair is cushioned), phoneless (it is the worst), waiting for 2:30 am (London time) to come faster, imagining that I should actually be in my pre-booked hotel in Florence.
I have been awake and in airports for almost 48 straight hours.
I can honestly say that I am still considering asking them to book me a flight home as soon as the offices open because I am not even excited for Italy anymore. But I guess that might just be the cold, hunger, and exhaustion speaking.
8 more hours till my next flight boards. Can only imagine what else will happen in that time.
And yes, two nights in an airport is a pleasant as it sounds.