I’d like to tell you a little story. Its about my sister, some plane delays, and how she made it home on schedule.

First, I’ll set the stage. My sister is returning to our hometown for a weekend with family in June from a conference on close relationships. She hasn’t seen anyone in a long time, and doesn’t have too many days, so getting there on time is something of the essence.

Along the way, something happened with the connecting flights so there were hundreds of people displaced off a missed flight, and there weren’t any flights going out to that location for the forseeable future. You can picture it. Lots of angry people swarming the customer service desk to try to bully their way into getting on the next one. As a customer service rep, this probably isn’t your best day at work.

My sister finally gets her turn with an agent. When she tries to talk options, all she can manage is bursting into tears and crying, “I just want to get home in time to spend father’s day with my dad!” She’s a 28 year old woman. Let’s be serious, a display of this sort is just rather touching.

The rep says quietly, step to the side, and we’ll get this taken care of, and then discreetly books my sister onto a flight, while turning down all of the other passengers in line. This flight she’s on? Happens to be a party plane returning from Las Vegas with a load of promotional people that was just stopping over to refuel. It’s not technically supposed to be taking on any passengers. And yet, my sister is let on. Once boarded, she’s showered with gifts, and told that it’s open bar. Have a great time! Is this likely to happen the next time your flight is delayed? Not so much.

The moral of the story? Better things happen to you when you come from a place of love than from a place of anger. No one wants to help that irate person. If this is you, take a lap around the airport, treat yourself to some ice cream, a new magazine, and settle in for what is probably going to be a long and frustrating wait. Yelling at the people who control ticketing isn’t going to get you anywhere fast.

Ok we’ve all been there right, RIGHT? Just nod. You’re picking up your apartment, and you move a pair of sweatpants on the floor, out shoots (the HORROR) the most scary thing in the universe: the cockroach. There’s not a lot that can make this situation better. Feel free to scream, cry hysterically and call someone to talk you through chasing that sucker down and killing it.

Then its time to deal with it. Call your exterminator, and book him to come over, like YESTERDAY. Usually this can be facilitated by your landlord, who doesn’t want those vermin in his/her apartment building either. Go immediately to Bed Bath and Beyond, and purchase an eye mask. You’ll use this to help you sleep while the lights are on (the roaches mostly come out in the dark) for the next couple weeks while you recover. Then pop over to home depot, and purchase a can of roach killer and some boric acid. Make a border around your entire apartment with the boric acid, anywhere those puppies can enter (you’ll need a good vaccuum cleaner to pick this up later). Roaches (much like witches) can’t cross this sacred boundary. Be warned that roaches can fly, and this makes them 10,000 times scarier.

After this happens once or twice in your live, you’ll gradually be able to cope a little bit better each time.

The positive take away? 30 years from now, when your grandkids run off to live in NYC, you can commiserate with them about that one time you lived in a building with roaches to make them feel a little less terrified and alone (and to remind them that their grand momma is a cool lady who lived there as well). Naturally, you’ll edit out the part where you cried and didn’t sleep with the lights out for months. Naturally.