What a Canceled Flight Taught Me

I’m sorry I was offline last week. I was traveling for work, and it pretty much took over my entire week.

Truth be told, I don’t love to travel—and I like traveling alone even less. This was for my 9–5, so it required a couple days of prep, then the travel itself, and the recovery that comes after. It was basically a made-for-TV movie… minus the handsome guy you end up marrying.

I had mixed feelings about the trip, as I do nearly every time I travel, but it was something I had to do. A few days alone in a hotel will do something to you, I guess. I made some decisions that had been lingering, and I was reminded just how hard it is for me to be completely alone. At home, there’s always something to do, but take me out of my element and it’s an entirely different story.

I read, tried to relax, and attended work events, and it was really great to see my co-workers, but deep down, all I wanted was to get home.

I guess I’m a creature of habit. I love the familiar. So when my flight home got canceled, that old familiar anxiety kicked in hard. In my panic, I booked a new flight and raced to the airport—only to realize I’d accidentally booked it for the next day. I was stuck.

At that point, I was at the mercy of the airline, trying every angle to get rebooked. After a few dead ends, they found me a seat on a flight five hours later. I grabbed it and prayed that one wouldn’t get canceled, too.

I had a lot of time to think and started reading Brianna Wiest’s When You’re Ready, This Is How You Heal. Somewhere between all the delays, I was reminded how much I value home, routine, and the people I love.

Eventually, I made it to NYC for my layover, with a two-hour wait ahead. I managed to enjoy a piece of NY pizza. But of course, that flight was delayed once, twice, and three times. Then, the airline mentioned alternate flight from another NYC airport. It was risky, though the flight left in just over an hour, and the airport was 30 minutes away. I was about to brush it off, but five of us—strangers—decided to risk it.

A sweet couple from Alabama, Pam and Dennis; a young woman, Anusha, from Queens; and Joe, who took charge and kept us all moving. We piled into an Uber and raced through the city, TSA, and the airport (It reminded me of the Home Alone scene where they are running through the airport) to our gate to make that second flight.

Eventually, we made it. We landed just after 1 AM. We high-fived, exchanged numbers, and said our goodbyes. Even though I was exhausted, I had this overwhelming feeling: I’m so glad I didn’t miss this.

Anusha, the girl from Queens—my daughter’s age—hugged me goodbye and said, “You were the best part of this trip.” I nearly cried.

Usually, I’m pretty risk-averse. But that night, I pushed myself to be a little uncomfortable, and it gave me a tiny adventure—and a little more courage. Looking back, I think that’s the whole point.

Try not to miss it.

Much love,
Susan

P.S. Coming soon, my favorite travel must-haves and packing tips!