Int Flight, delays and cancations. Asked my wife about the kids and how things were going:

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The stale air of the international terminal hung heavy, thick with the collective anxieties of hundreds of stranded passengers. My flight to Tokyo, supposed to have departed hours ago, was yet another victim of the domino effect plaguing international travel. Scrolling through a news feed filled with stories of cancellations and delays, I felt a familiar knot of frustration tighten in my stomach.

This wasn't the relaxing start to my business trip I'd envisioned. I yearned to be hurtling through the sky, the rhythmic rumble of the engines a lullaby against the backdrop of fluffy clouds. Instead, I was trapped in a purgatory of flickering departure boards and harried airline staff.

Desperate for a flicker of normalcy, I pulled out my phone and video-called Sarah, my wife. The familiar sight of her face, bathed in the warm glow of our living room lamp, brought a wave of relief. "Hey honey," I sighed, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"There you are!" Sarah's usually bright tone was tinged with worry. "Have they rescheduled your flight yet?"

"Not a clue," I grumbled, "They're saying there might be a standby seat on a flight later tonight, but it's not guaranteed."

A chorus of moans erupted behind me as another flight was announced as cancelled. I winced in sympathy for the families with young children, their faces etched with a mixture of fatigue and disappointment.

"How are the kids doing?" I asked, forcing a smile.

"They're missing you," Sarah said, tilting the camera to reveal a scene of organized chaos. Eight-year-old Liam was sprawled on the floor, engrossed in a Lego creation, while ten-year-old Maya was diligently setting the table.

"Don't worry, they're being little troopers," Sarah added, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maya's even attempting to cook pasta for dinner. Let's just say it involves a suspicious amount of ketchup."

I chuckled. Visions of Sarah navigating a mountain of overcooked pasta and tomato sauce flashed through my mind. "Tell them I'll be there as soon as I can, and I'll definitely be making dinner tomorrow night. A healthy one, with no ketchup involved."

We chatted for a while longer, the conversation a lifeline back to my normal life amidst the travel chaos. Sarah filled me in on the latest school play drama and Liam's obsession with building the tallest Lego tower possible. While a part of me missed being there in person, the normalcy of their world soothed the edge of my frustration.

As the call ended, a sliver of hope flickered on the departure board – my flight had been rescheduled for a late-night departure. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't a cancellation. With a renewed sense of optimism, I grabbed a protein bar and hunkered down for the long wait.

The flight itself was uneventful, a blur of cramped seats and lukewarm meals. However, when I finally touched down in Tokyo, a wave of accomplishment washed over me. I had persevered through the delays and cancellations, arriving slightly rumpled but determined. More importantly, the conversation with Sarah had grounded me, reminding me that the world, despite its travel hiccups, kept spinning. The kids were alright, dinner would involve more than tomato sauce, and Tokyo awaited with its bustling streets and exciting business opportunities.

This trip, though fraught with delays, served as a reminder of the importance of adaptability and resilience. But perhaps most importantly, it highlighted the unwavering comfort of a loving family, a connection that transcended time zones and flight delays.