I used to share the same mindset. This year, my birthday happened to coincide with our family trip to Austria. My husband had discovered the only non-direct flight from London, which included a lengthy three-and-a-half-hour layover in Hamburg, Germany. As you can imagine, the thought of such an extended layover filled me with dread. Just a week before our departure, I asked him what we were supposed to do in Hamburg for so long, while he reminded me that he had meticulously organized every detail of the trip while I relaxed with a glass of wine—so I should “chill out.”
The first leg of our journey went smoothly, and we enjoyed a pleasant hour-long flight to Hamburg. However, upon landing, it became apparent that everyone else had the same layover since we deboarded into a terminal that resembled… well, an American airport. (If you’ve traveled internationally, you know that American airports are often lackluster compared to their global counterparts.)
At Hamburg, international passengers had to pass through security again before boarding their next flight. Unfortunately, on that day, security personnel were on strike, resulting in thousands of confused travelers forming chaotic lines that stretched from check-in to security—essentially taking over the entire terminal. To keep our kids occupied, we set them up in a designated play area while we waited our turn in line.
And then something unexpected happened.
My daughter, deeply engrossed in her iPod, had entrusted her beloved stuffed animal to my son. He was directing it to perform various tricks—jumps, barks, and the like, as any six-year-old would do. One trick appeared to involve walking up a wall, and I watched as he waved the toy near a peculiar red wall fixture.
Suddenly, chaos erupted! A loud siren blared, red lights began flashing, and a massive—well, a massive iron curtain—descended from the ceiling, effectively segmenting the security area and separating hundreds of people waiting in line. Airport staff hurried to direct passengers away from the imposing barrier. In a scene reminiscent of an action movie, one airport employee even pushed an elderly gentleman aside to clear the area. Once the curtain hit the ground with a heavy thud, the sirens ceased, and everyone stood in stunned silence, as if emerging from a whirlwind.
I quickly grabbed my son and pulled him close. While I wasn’t entirely sure his antics had triggered the alarm, I had a gut feeling they had, so I kept my head down. After several tense minutes, the curtain remained in place. When I finally dared to look up, I noticed a woman gesturing enthusiastically at something a few feet away.
There stood the Hamburg Airport fire brigade, seven robust firefighters clad in oversized yellow suits, examining the situation. They circled the iron curtain, scratching their chins and pointing at the ceiling, clearly puzzled.
The sound that escaped my lips was akin to the mother in A Christmas Story when the Chinese restaurant waiters chop off the duck’s head. I clasped my husband’s arm. “I feel like I should apologize to them,” I said, panic rising in my voice.
“Don’t say a word!” he hissed, “We don’t even speak German!”
A nearby mom with a little girl tapped me on the shoulder. “Say nothing,” she advised in a thick German accent. “I’m not saying what he did was right”—pointing at Charlie, who had stealthily retreated into the shadows—“but this is an embarrassment for the Hamburg Airport. Let them figure it out.”
This insider advice was a relief. Who could handle German bureaucracy better than a local? We stayed silent, and with the crowd stuck on the other side of the wall, the lines moved more quickly than before. We finally made it through security and to our gate. Having just been part of an international incident on my 40th birthday, we decided to order some prosecco.
As we toasted, my husband triumphantly reminded me that he was the one who booked the flight with the long layover. It struck me then that layovers deserve a bit of appreciation. Isn’t life itself just one long layover? Being 40, or even in your 40s, feels like a transition—a pause between youth and old age, ambition and acceptance. For moms like me, it’s that in-between stage of raising toddlers and navigating the teenage years, a unique twilight zone of its own. A brief interruption in our journey can serve as a beautiful reminder that the moment we are in is just as significant as the destination we aim for.
When we boarded the plane, there was the German mom and her little girl. We promised not to let our son touch anything this time.
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In summary, layovers can teach us valuable lessons about the journey of life, providing moments of reflection and unexpected joy amid the chaos.