They say experiences make us who we are.

Well, sit down and buckle up because I am about to tell you the story of the time American Airlines made me completely lose my faith in not only humanity but also travel.

1. The first delay.

Let me set the scene. It's Winter Break. December. I take my layover through Atlanta, because JFK could have weather complications. Sure, it's a shorter layover which could be tricky, but it's never been a problem before, right? WRONG.

That initial flight was delayed so much I would have missed my connecting flight by one minute. So I get moved to a flight that goes to JFK with a five-hour layover. That's fine.

2. The five-hour layover from hell.

If any of you have ever been stuck by yourself, with no wifi, little money to spend, and way too much time on your hands, when you're just eager to get home, you know how much it sucks. Around hour three, I buy myself a disappointing turkey sandwich dinner. Around hour four (about 7pm, if I remember correctly) I notice that my flight's gate has been changed.

3. The longer wait.

I'm gonna fast-forward through all the waiting and charging my phone and texting parents back and forth about the details, but the matter at hand was that the flight kept getting delayed for another three additional hours. There was a part the plane was missing and another plane was bringing it, or something along those lines. They finally let us board around 10:30pm.

4. The de-boarding and the initial cry.

At this point, everyone on the plane is seated and ready to go, but we have been sitting for forty minutes. When they announced we needed to de-board the aircraft, my first few tears ran down my cheeks. The poor lady beside me didn't know what to do.

5. The need for a pilot.

Once everyone was off the aircraft and my sobbing could not possibly be controlled, an employee announced that they were currently looking for a pilot in the nearby areas. Apparently, the pilot on board had flown too many hours and it would have been illegal for him to take on that flight (not my words). So they could not officially cancel the flight until it was confirmed that no available pilot was in the vicinity. The flight was eventually canceled about fifteen minutes (and many, many tears) later.

6. The two-hour line.

It was now close to midnight and the next flight to San Juan was the next morning at 8am. We were told to go check in for that flight and get vouchers and any necessary amenities for the night. I was very close to the back of the line, and sat on the floor of JFK for a long time, charging my phone and telling my family and friends what happened. Meanwhile, my boyfriend had gone to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

7. The dinner voucher... at 1am.

I finally came up to the counter and tried to be as nice and pleasant as I could be, since I knew many people probably weren't, and it was no one's fault. I was rescheduled for the next flight and given a dinner and breakfast voucher and told that the TSA Security line would open at 3am.

8. The Security line that took an hour.

At 3am I was the fifth person at the security line. Let me tell you, it did NOT open at 3am. More like 3:30am. Nonetheless, I was walking past newsstands at 4:02am. Yes, I kept track.

9. The Starbucks in front of my gate.

There was a Starbucks that didn't open until 5:45am, and you best bet I stayed up and was one of the first in line for some food as soon as they opened.

10. The necessary nap.

I had been awake for almost twenty-four hours at this point, and decided the people I was sitting with were trustworthy enough to not steal my shit for the forty minutes I fell asleep on the floor. After all, they charged their phones with my computer, so trust goes both ways, right?

11. The last hour.

At this point, I was just expecting something to go wrong. I hadn't showered in too long, I hadn't gotten enough sleep, I was too warm, my scalp was itchy, and I felt gross. All I wanted was to hug my parents and hold my baby brother. It was excruciating to wait another hour to board.

12. The flight itself.

I mean, I don't remember much about the flight, which means it was probably fine. I just wish it had happened twelve hours earlier.

I also happened to document this whole adventure on Snapchat, but I wasn't conscious enough to save the whole thing. All I have is one screenshot, though I think it does sum up the experience quite well. And it's the reason I now document all my travel stories. And also why I expect the worst when traveling.

(I'm so serious, this experience broke me.)