Answer: Not a whole heckuva lot, except for options. So many options.
They’ll delay you, rebook you, churn you through the infinite complexity of their algorithms and yet odds are you’ll wind up where you want to go, even if it takes forever to get there.
Take an evening flight and you’re rolling dice with the devil. There’s every chance you’ll wind up in a random city you didn’t even know existed before the night’s out, scratching your head with thousand other people in a taxi line looking to get to Shacks’R’Us for a night playing tag with the bed bugs before heading right back into the slime pit someone just forced you out of.
Get an early morning flight and you’ll wake up well before dawn, pass by the drunks riding out a legendary night on the way to a car you barely recognize because your senses are running on ‘Instinct’ mode. You’ll encounter minimal traffic, as sanity keeps most people off the roads during the hours most likely for ritual seances and life regrets.
Cruise through the airport in the evening and you’ll get a mishmash of dinner menus, chock full of solid names and washed down with liquid victuals for triple the price. Because you’ve been working all day, dealing with the endless wash of announcements and gate numbers is like playing sudoku after twenty straight go’rounds on Space Mountain – what’s left of your logic is barely enough to get you to the gate.
After you spike your wake-up with some expensive espresso, the early morning flight greets you with some peaceful bliss. Either on the plane or at the gate, you’ll be treated to some solace in silence, a peaceful minute or ten to contemplate the magic of sitting in a silver tube as it teleports you across the world. It’s magic.
On an evening flight, you’re sitting in manic desperation, praying to every god you know and ones you don’t that you’ll make it home, or to the hotel, or just anywhere where you can stretch your legs and sink into oblivion, because you know as soon as you hit that sleeping point, the captain’s going to come on and announce some light turbulence, or that they’ve entered a holding pattern and your bathroom bladder calculus suddenly flips to the wrong side of the equation.
So take the early morning flight. Take the pre-dawn wake up and cherish seeing the dawn through the window of a plane as you zip through the sky at 500 miles an hour. It’s so, so much better than the alternative.