I spend way too much time worrying about things I can’t control and way too much energy trying to manage situations I didn’t expect at all.

I can deal with the unexpected. It’s the time wasted worrying about what could happen that I’d like to get back.

Case in point, my flight to Canada. It should have been the easiest flight ever because for once, I wasn’t landing in Montreal but in Ottawa and I was leaving from Nantes, so no early departure and train dilemma.

Yes, it should have been a straightforward flight, booked on the Air France website for a shockingly low price (for 2023…).

Except that a couple of months ago, the 3 p.m. Paris-Ottawa flight was rescheduled to 1:10 p.m. Air France automatically adjusted my Nantes-Paris flight but there aren’t that many flights so there aren’t that many options either—I was booked on the 10:30 a.m. flight arriving at 11:40 a.m., so a 90-minute layover in Paris.

For Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, that’s tight because I had to go from Terminal 2F to Terminal 2E and through border control.

I spent time researching the best way to get to my terminal as fast as possible. I planned a plan B, missing the flight and being stuck in Paris. It would be Air France’s responsibility to rebook me on the next flight but still, I didn’t feel like being stuck in Paris for the night.

And so once again I packed worrying about something—this summer I was worried Mark and I would miss the train, this time I dedicated energy to worrying about the flight connection.

At least, I was too busy worrying to cry too much and worry about the rest of my life.

On Saturday, I walked to the bus stop in the dark and under the rain. I spent the 30-minute trip finishing a very good book to, you guessed it, avoid crying and worrying.

When I checked my phone once at the airport, I saw the WhatsApp message from Air France—my 1:10 p.m. flight was delayed, now scheduled at 4 p.m.

Sight.

I was looking forward to sleeping for eight hours straight as soon as possible.

I landed in Paris, left Terminal 2F, and joined the lineup at passport control. All the passengers were desperately trying to catch their next flight—”I’m lucky, my flight is delayed,” I told an employee whose main responsibility seemed to assure all travellers they would be okay and probably make it to the gate on time.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” she replied. “This is the best-case scenario.”

I might have made it to the gate on time. Hard to say, I didn’t rush. But it was a very tight connection.

Terminal 2E isn’t a bad place to wait for a flight. It’s big and comfortable, all the seats have plugs, there’s a cheap coffee machine and plenty of smoking areas (hey, this is Europe!) Air France gave me an 11-euro voucher I spent on candies for Mark. I worked, I walked around and I waited.

The flight was then delayed to 4:10 p.m., and eventually to 4:30 p.m.

And once on board, it was delayed again.

I started chatting with my seatmate who was having a much more stressful experience than me. She was from Morocco and didn’t speak much French. She was travelling with her three young kids, joining her husband who had secured a work permit and settled in Montreal over the summer. She was supposed to fly from Rabat-Casablanca-Montreal but the Rabat-Casablanca flight had been cancelled so all the passengers were offered a bus instead. Of course, they all missed their flight. So she was rebooked on a Casablanca-Paris-Montreal flight instead except she also missed the Paris-Montreal. The airline offered her a hotel for the night but she wasn’t allowed to stay in France because she didn’t have a Schengen visa, so she was rebooked once again on a Paris-Ottawa-Montreal flight.

And it was her first time flying!

I hugged her and told her she was going to be okay. I hope she is. Her husband was supposed to pick her up in Ottawa because she was about to miss the Ottawa-Montreal flight…

So compared to her, it wasn’t a stressful flight.

We spent it over a thick layer of clouds, watching a thin line of light on the horizon.