Beware of turning into an... airport dad

You may be returning en famille from your annual Diwali getaway. Or, if you live in Delhi-NCR, you're about to flee from the smoky, peaty but not-single-malty hell of post-Diwali haze. Keep your wits about because it starts innocently enough. You print boarding passes 'just in case'. You check gate numbers with the intensity of a Cold War operative. And you've landed up at the airport 5 hours before security. Beware: you may be on your way to becoming Airport Dad. This is not a gender or generational moniker. It's the belief that the entire aviation ecosystem will collapse unless you personally shepherd your party through security, hydration and gate logistics with Op Sindoor precision. The danger in turning AD? You stop experiencing travel and start managing it like a hostile merger. You miss the joy of overpriced airport beer, thrill of Trump tariff-free Toblerones and won't be able to chill, thereby making everyone else want to tear your hair.

Your loved ones will rebel. They will wander off to KFC or Amcha Katta. They'll tell you to relax. You'll respond by resending the itinerary on the family WhatsApp group. So, here's the cure: miss a gate change. Skip glancing at the flight schedule monitor every 14 secs. Go with the flow. Because the true destination isn't Gate 42. It's freedom from the tyranny of your own clipboard soul.