A self-indulgent post on being grounded in snowstorms

I'm stranded at the airport, and it looks like I'm going to be here for a long time. I arrived at half past five in the afternoon after fighting my way through a train network completely brought to its knees by what seems to be a Europe-wide snowstorm (it's the beginning of the end people). As I type out this impromptu blog post the clock on my laptop reads 00:52, and in four hours I'll be at the  ticket counter praying, figuratively speaking, to have my previously cancelled flight re-booked for that same day. 

Whereas you might think I'd be frustrated over this, I have been quite content the entire time. Joyful at times, believe it or not. Even as my mind and my patience slowly but surely evaporate, I can't help but feel that this simple yet somehow meaningful life experience is worth the trouble. Wouldn't life be horribly boring if things always turned out the way they were supposed to, or "if your flight always arrived on time" so to speak? Is it not equally important and fulfilling to have unpleasant experiences as it is to have pleasant ones? By thinking this way you will rarely loose your cool, but is it a sign of resilience or a sign of complacency? Is it truly a useful cognitive construct? And am I only being philosophical because my brain is in desperate need of REM sleep?

Time to get another Starbucks coffee.