The delayed flight you were furious about becomes a story you tell for years.

Anger needs the present tense. While you are stuck in it, a delay is an insult; a year out, it is the night you played cards on an airport floor with your cousin. The parts that make a story later are exactly the parts that went wrong, which is a strange and useful fact about memory.

Next time a plan collapses, allow yourself five minutes of being furious and then ask what the story version will sound like. Notice whether that changes who you are willing to talk to while you wait.