“Stuck at the Airport: Time to Play ‘Find Karen’” A Travel Tradition Rooted in Chaos, Delays, and the Sweet Scent of Overheated Pretzels.

So there I was—again—stranded at Gate C27, sipping lukewarm coffee and staring into the abyss of the departures screen, which kept blinking “DELAYED” like it was trying to gaslight me into meditating.

Flight pushed back. Again.

Terminal packed with sweaty hope.

Battery life at 9%.

Spirit life at 2%.

And yet—this is my moment.

Because when I’m stuck in an airport, I don’t just wait.

I play my favorite game: “Find Karen.”

It’s like Where’s Waldo, but Waldo wants to speak to the CEO, has a problem with gate numbers being “too confusing,” and treats boarding groups like a personal attack on her time management.

And the beauty?

Karen is always here.

In every terminal.

At every gate.

Lurking.

Karen #1: The Boarding Pass Purist

I spot her near the help desk, holding a stack of printed documents like she’s going to deliver closing arguments in a trial about boarding zones.

“I printed this itinerary last night,” she snaps. “It says I should be in Group 2. I’m not standing here and being treated like Group 4.”

She waves her paper like it’s the Declaration of Independence.

The gate agent, who is 19 and dead behind the eyes, replies,

“Ma’am, that’s for your return flight.”

Karen doesn’t blink.

She adjusts her visor and leans in like she’s about to uncover a conspiracy.

Karen #2: The TSA Philosopher

Over near security, we’ve got a Karen in her philosophical era.

She’s arguing with TSA over a family-sized bottle of eucalyptus body spray.

“It’s holistic. That means it’s medicinal. You can’t classify this as liquid—it’s an energy cleanser.”

The TSA agent just stares, holding the 17-ounce bottle like it personally offended him.

Karen smirks, smug in her essential oil immunity, as if she’s about to sue the entire liquid classification system.

Karen #3: Gatekeeper of Gate 14

Now this Karen—she’s elite.

She’s wearing yoga pants, a Patagonia fleece, and that subtle look of financial superiority that says, “I own two Pelotons and call customer service on speakerphone.”

She approaches the desk and says,

“Hi. I need to board now. I’m Platinum Elite God Tier with CloudMiles Plus, and I’m late for a Zoom with Tokyo.”

The gate agent doesn’t even flinch.

“Your group hasn’t been called yet.”

Karen nods, but doesn’t leave.

She hovers. Right by the sign.

Breathing heavily like the flight owes her child support.

Every five minutes she sighs loud enough to be heard over the intercom and fake-checks her Apple Watch like it’s monitoring global diplomacy.

She leans over to a random passenger and mutters:

“Some of these agents just love the power, you know?”

Ma’am. It’s 7 a.m. We’re all just trying not to cry near the Hudson News.

Karen #4: The Food Court Crusader

Over by the food court, I see another one demanding to know why her sandwich doesn’t come with free Wi-Fi.

“I spent $14 on a turkey wrap. The least you could do is offer a phone charger and some ambiance.”

She is now explaining Yelp to the guy behind the counter, who just wants to go on break.

Bonus round:

A Chad tries to sneak into Group 1 with a line that should be studied:

“My buddy’s already on the plane. He’s saving me a seat.”

Sir, this is not a school bus.

By the end, my flight was delayed another two hours.

But I wasn’t mad.

I had front row seats to Karen: Live at Terminal C

And honestly? Worth the ticket.

The moral?

Airports aren’t just transit hubs.

They are sanctuaries of drama, ego, and poorly timed smoothie consumption.

And wherever there is a flight delay, there will be a Karen—armed with a rewards card, a mysterious sense of entitlement, and an emotional support complaint.

So next time you’re stranded at Gate 38 with nothing but a granola bar and dwindling hope, don’t panic.

Just sit back, sip your burnt coffee, and play:

“Find Karen.”

Now boarding: chaos.