I used to share the same mindset. This year, my birthday fell right in the middle of our family getaway to Austria. My partner had found the only non-direct flight from London, which came with a lengthy three-and-a-half-hour layover in Hamburg, Germany. As you might expect, the thought of such a long wait filled me with dread. The week leading up to our trip was filled with me asking what on earth we were supposed to do for three and a half hours in Hamburg, while my partner, who had meticulously organized every detail of the vacation while I sipped wine, reminded me to “not go there.”
The first leg of our journey was smooth, and we enjoyed a pleasant hour-long flight to Hamburg. However, once we disembarked, it seemed like everyone else had also decided to take a layover there, as we entered a terminal that looked suspiciously like…well, an American airport. (If you’ve flown internationally, you know American airports pale in comparison to their counterparts around the world.)
Upon arrival in Hamburg, international travelers had to clear security again before boarding their next flight, but on this particular day, the security staff were on strike. Thousands of bewildered passengers stood in long, winding queues that stretched from check-in to security—essentially taking over the entire terminal. To pass the time, we set our kids up in a designated play area, allowing them to play while we maintained our spots in line.
That’s when chaos erupted.
My daughter, absorbed in her iPod, had entrusted her beloved stuffed animal to my son. He was enthusiastically directing it to perform tricks—barks and jumps, as any 6-year-old would. One of its stunts involved “walking” up a wall, and I watched as he waved the toy at a peculiar red wall fixture.
Suddenly, the air was filled with a loud siren, bright lights flashed, and an enormous iron curtain descended from the ceiling, effectively dividing the security area. Airport staff scrambled to direct passengers away from the curtain or usher them through. In a scene reminiscent of an action movie, one attendant even shoved an elderly gentleman aside to clear the area. When the curtain thudded to the ground, the sirens ceased. Everyone stood there, blinking in disbelief as if we’d just survived a tornado.
I quickly grabbed my son, holding him close. While I wasn’t entirely sure his antics had triggered the alarm, I had a sneaky suspicion they might have, so I kept my head down. Minutes ticked by, and the curtain remained down. When I finally dared to look up, I saw a woman gesticulating excitedly a few feet away.
There they were—the Hamburg Airport fire brigade, seven robust Germans clad in oversized yellow rubber suits, approaching to assess the situation. They circled the iron curtain, scratching their chins and pointing to the ceiling, obviously puzzled.
The sound that escaped me was reminiscent of the mother from A Christmas Story when the waitstaff at the Chinese restaurant behead the duck for Christmas dinner. I clutched my partner’s arm tightly. “I feel like I need to apologize,” I blurted out.
“Say nothing!” he hissed, “We don’t even speak German!”
A nearby mom with her daughter tapped my shoulder. “Say nothing,” she advised in a thick German accent. “I’m not saying what he did was right”—pointing at my son, who had stealthily melted into the shadows—“but this is an embarrassment for the Hamburg Airport. Let them figure it out.”
I found comfort in her words. Who better to navigate German bureaucracy than a local? We stayed quiet, and with much of the crowd stuck behind the wall, the lines began to move swiftly. We finally cleared the checkpoint and made it to our gate. After what felt like an international incident, and with it being my 40th birthday, we decided to celebrate with a round of prosecco.
As we toasted, my partner triumphantly reminded me that he was the genius who booked us the flight with the lengthy layover. It hit me then—layovers deserve our respect. Isn’t life just one long layover? Turning 40, or being in your 40s, feels like a layover too—caught between youth and old age, between ambition and acceptance. For moms like me, it’s a transitional phase between raising toddlers and managing teenagers—a unique twilight zone of its own. A brief pause in the journey can remind us that the moment we’re in is just as exhilarating as the destination we’re heading towards.
As we boarded the plane, I spotted that German mom with her daughter again. We vowed to keep our son from touching anything this time!
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Summary:
In a humorous tale about a family layover in Hamburg, Emily reflects on the unexpected lessons learned during a chaotic airport experience. The story captures the essence of life as a series of layovers, paralleling her transition into her 40s and the unique challenges of parenting teens.