More than 40,000 feet above ground last week, I was reminded to look on the bright side.

I departed on an afternoon flight to Charlotte, North Carolina from South Bend at around 3 p.m. Wednesday, knowing I only had about a 25-minute layover before boarding for my final destination, Asheville.

We got a late start in South Bend because our plane was late arriving to the airport, and as the minutes ticked by, my layover becoming more and more brief, my anxiety built. Once we finally landed, I ran from one gate to another in the Charlotte airport (which, by the way, is under construction and nothing short of complete and utter chaos).

In Charlotte, our pilots were nowhere to be found. Standing in a crowded terminal full of cranky passengers who had either missed connections or had been waiting for quite a while to depart, I took advantage of the time to find a cozy place to read my book.

Nearly an hour after our scheduled departure, we boarded the plane and were taxiing to the jet way when a flight attendant announced over the speakers that a passenger had boarded the wrong plane (it was not difficult to see who the unlucky gentleman was; he was bright red).

We waited a bit for a gate to open so we could taxi back and unload the passenger, then waited some more for a crew to unload all the baggage on the plane until they found his. Finally, we were set to go.

And then the pilot realized we were low on fuel.

Thirty minutes after I was scheduled to land in Asheville, we finally departed Charlotte.

Cranky, hungry and short on patience, I settled into my seat and opened my book again. Twenty minutes later, the overhead light above my seat wasn’t working, so I opened the window shade.

The sight outside my window can only be described as breathtaking. We were descending the short flight from Charlotte to Asheville just as the sun was setting over the mountains — and I was seeing it from the sky! Suddenly that two-hour delay did not seem like such an inconvenience.

But the adventure did not stop there.

Thursday evening, I went to bed early, tired from a day full of traveling, work and sightseeing. I was sound asleep at 1 a.m. when my room started screaming, “there has been an emergency! Please exit immediately. There has been an emergency! Please exit immediately.”

Disoriented (and slightly frightened), I found my shoes and did as I was told. Minutes later, I was among hundreds of sleepy, confused travelers standing safely on the sidewalk, watching as five firetrucks whizzed by and sprang to action.

Despite the constant whirring of the emergency sirens in the hotel as the firefighters investigated, the streets of Asheville were peaceful. Twinkly lights lit up dozens of businesses, and a man sat on the balcony of an apartment strumming his guitar. A couple of locals stumbled happily toward home, singing along with the musician on the balcony, clearly unfazed by the chaos going on in the hotel.

When I travel alone, I rarely venture out at night in strange places, so this version of Asheville is one I may have never seen. All turned out OK with the hotel, and we were back in bed shortly after.

Finally, Friday, I began my venture home, only to repeat the first leg of my journey again. Our plane was extremely late arriving, and it became more and more clear that I would not make my connection.

The folks at American Airlines were ready with a remedy, though, and gathered myself and four other women heading for Charlotte, packed us in a van and transported us the two hours to the airport.

I could have been angry, frustrated, fed up and belligerent, but I simply couldn’t find those emotions, because outside the windows of the van, I got to see yet another spectacular view: The Blue Ridge Mountains — up close.

It seemed as though my travel plans were conspiring to get me the absolute best view throughout my journey. Through every hiccup and delay, I saw another spectacular sight — sights I may have taken for granted had I not been inconvenienced at every turn.

I owe a big thanks to the Travel Gods for reminding me that there is a bright side to every dark moment — a literal silver lining behind every cloud.