Had to change plans recently and fly back to Minneapolis a week earlier than I expected. That meant three separate flights on two different airlines, a day that began at 6 a.m. and didn’t end until 7 p.m., a series of cattle calls to board planes, and a serious lack of pretzels.

Best day ever.

I’m going to share my dirty little secret here. I’ve started to wish for flight delays (assuming I’m not trying to get home for a child’s graduation or something).

Just think of the bright side:

It’s the airline’s fault! Who can blame me for bad weather and broken toilet handles? Now I’ll just have to sit and wait. And read magazines. And catch up on Oscar-nominated films on my laptop.

Hungry for dinner? Will it be caramel popcorn or frozen yogurt with chocolate chips? Yes. And yes.

Walk, walk, walk. Airports are the original treadmill, especially if you realize you need to be in an entirely different terminal 10 minutes ago.

Airports are educational. This is where you learn new skills, such as, “Insert the buckle into the metal opening and pull the strap.”

They’re funny, too. People who work in them say surprising things like, “This flight is completely full.”

Phones must be off. I’m so sorry, kids! What’s “airplane mode” again? I thought I was supposed to turn it off completely. For 12 hours.

Their jets bring you home safely to a beautiful family happy to see you. Well, the dog is happy to see you.

And everyone else did just fine.

 

gail.rosenblum@startribune.com

Follow Gail on Twitter: @grosenblum