In the beginning, Delta Airlines created a 10 a.m. flight to Los Angeles. And I arrived early at my gate, enveloped in a net of peace, anticipating a night in my childhood bed back home, and the sun rose over Providence. But then the intercom said, Let there be a $1,500 airline voucher for any travelers willing to transfer to the 5 p.m. to Los Angeles through Detroit, and I awoke.

Too good to be true? Perhaps. This morning would mark only the beginning of my chaotic pilgrimage. Here’s what I wish I had been told:

  1. Accept the voucher, but know what you’re getting into. Don’t lose yourself in visions of a restful Christmas vacation—you must first earn it. Your new flight is in nine hours. Text your dad: won’t be landing by midnight, sorry.

  2. Listen when the charismatic British Canadian rugby player you meet at the gate informs you that no one wins anything by standing patiently in line. Muscle your way to the front for your updated boarding pass.

  3. Find creative ways to pass the time while you wait. Stare at the stretches of gray carpet, the seas of hurried bodies. Treat yourself to a $16.50 meatball sandwich, which will inevitably taste like wet cardboard. Find a nook and doomscroll into oblivion as time crawls, turtle-like, past you.

  4. Apologize to the universe for cursing the droning intercom voice that announces each delay. Airport attendants have dreams and families. Attempt to restore your karma.

  5. Once finally on board, strike up a conversation with the young, bearded Amazon employee in the neighboring seat. He may give you a small bottle of airplane bourbon and confess his aviophobia to you. Comfort him, but know you’ll be on the tarmac for another three hours and that he’ll be drunk enough by then not to notice he’s airborne anyway.

  6. When your phone informs you midair that your connection out of Detroit has already departed, accept the truth: No airport sprint nor desperate plea will get you home today. And don’t say you hate Detroit. It doesn't want you there either.

  7. After you land, an agitated agent at a Delta help desk will claim she can’t rebook your flight or help you find a place to sleep. Ignore her. Get a second opinion and an off-the-freeway motel voucher.

  8. Don’t talk to irritable strangers at 1 a.m. on the airport shuttle en route to said off-the-freeway motel.

  9. Hop across the lily pad stains on the lobby carpet to lighten the mood. On the way to your room, try not to picture bodies in a range of consciousness behind each door or an eerie violin solo accompanying you down the hallway. If you must, have a makeshift weapon ready.

  10. You’ll hear water running when you enter. The bathtub is full, the faucet stuck. Estimate how long you have before a flood consumes you.

  11. Futz with the thermostat to no avail. 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Nice work. You’re sleeping in your clothes.

  12. Never rely on a fatigued and hungry mind. There is no skeleton hand on your pillow, no gelatinous tentacles emerging from beneath the bed. That languid, naked woman on the windowsill? A trick of the light. (Deadbolt the door twice.)

  13. Sacrifice your vigilance for some shivery sleep. Imagine yourself somewhere more forgiving—the dentist’s office or the DMV waiting room, a 14th-century barber.

  14. Wake up to a 5 a.m. alarm. Brave the snowstorm, the lonely motel muffin, the shuttle back to the airport. Drag your bag the final few yards. And once you’ve collapsed into your seat and let your eyes fall closed, find solace in the Los Angeles skyline appearing against the darkness of your eyelids, the weight of a new $1,500 in your pocket, as the plane wheels roll steadily forward.