There are no food rules when it comes to traveling. The second you set foot into that airport, train station or mini van, all human decency goes out the window and suddenly you are thrust into a world where the normal dietary standards involving 3 meals, vegetables, 2000 calories and items that are not served in plastic containers are distant relics of the past. You may have heard the saying that birthday cake doesn’t have calories, but in my world, the same applies to commuting food—if you’re eating it on the go, then you can throw any sense of health or diet out the window.

• Who: Dan and Steve
• Where: Regan National Airport—Terminal C
• What: Banana, greek yogurt, coffee, bites of Dan’s egg and cheese panini (Primo! Cappuccino), bites of Steve’s western omelet and homefries (Gordon Birsch)

Probably part of the reason this holds so true is that people are always traveling at weird times. In the normal world, it would be totally unacceptable to order a glass of red wine at 7am—but put yourself in the uncomfortable middle seat of an international flight, and suddenly that wine is not just acceptable, it’s a god given right! Same goes for the airport itself—eating pizzeria pretzel combos or an entire bag of trailmix in the middle of the night might seem crass under normal circumstances, but when you’re wandering between gates during a long layover caused by ‘mechanical problems,’ it’s the only reasonable way to get through the time of emotional and physical strife.

As much as there are no rules to travel food, there is, however, a strategy—Dan, Steve, and I went the three opposite extreme routes that morning at DCA Terminal C. I went for the pre-packaged and prepared items. No risk, but minimal payoff. You know what you’re going to get because you could, in theory, get it at home—but that’s not the living-life-on-edge attitude that gets anyone ahead in the real world. Fast food would also fall into this category in its no frills, no surprises, ‘i could be getting this in Omaha or Ontario or Osaka and it would pretty much taste exactly the same’ kind of way. 

Dan took the middle ground—an egg sandwich from an ambiguous only-at-the-airport deli. Something that can either be delicious, or can taste like cardboard. This is the typical airport route, most often seen in the form of slices of pizza, Chinese food at an airport food court, and salads with little packets of Ken’s dressing next to them.

The last, and most risky path, was taken by Steve—the actual restaurant meal. Steve even took it the next level… he got it TO-GO! The problem with a restaurant meal is that you’re actually paying restaurant prices PLUS airport prices, which equals at least a 97,000% markup.  If you happen to get something good, then it’s awesome and totally worth it, because while your friends are eating granola bars and frosties, you’re having actual food and won’t be making the dreaded emergency dash down to the aft of the aircraft cabin midflight. If a restaurant meal sucks, though, then you’re not only out a month’s salary and have potentially missed your flight due to the slowest service in America (because let’s face it, only the best and the brightest work at airports [no offense if you or a loved one works at the airport]), but then you are confronted with the worst fate of all—having to actually buy food ON the plane.

In this case, the risk paid off and Steve was the big winner with not only a delicious breakfast (that Dan and I helped devour after his sub par egg sandwich), but with plenty of time to spare before we got on board—and that’s even after he somehow got himself upgraded to an exit row. Easily, though, we all saw how it could have gone the other way since all it takes is an extra large seatmate and a turbulence-induced fasten seat belt sign to ensure that all you eat at the airport next time is some Pepto Bismol.