A layover isn’t downtime — it’s what makes the trip possible

On an upcoming trip, I’m treating myself the same way I treat my clients at Travel Only by Callan.

I’m sitting at my table with the flight options open, asking the real question:
How long do my layovers need to be so I don’t wipe myself out before I even arrive?

Not what the booking system allows.
Not what a “healthy, rushing adult” could survive once.
What my body can handle predictably — and what lets me still function the next day.

That’s how I build layovers.

My personal layover math (starting points, not rules)

On a good day:

• Short domestic connections: 45–60 minutes
• International connections: I want at least three hours

Those are baselines, not standards. They change:

• Day to day
• Airport to airport
• Based on fatigue, health, and how many steps came before

Some days I need more. Some days less.
That flexibility matters.

What actually has to fit inside a layover

A layover isn’t just walking from one gate to another.

It has to absorb:

• Late arrivals
• Taxi time and waiting for a gate
• De‑icing delays
• Time to stand, walk, and disembark without rushing
• Extra time if you use assistance or live with mobility, heart, balance, or fatigue limits

Then the human things booking systems ignore:

• Bathroom breaks
• Food you can actually eat
• Sitting down on purpose
• Cooling down after exertion
• Sensory decompression
• Pain, dizziness, or brain fog
• Meds and medical devices on schedule

If all of that doesn’t fit, the next flight is already at risk.

The two planning branches I use

1. Luggage checked all the way through

This is the simpler path.

I’m mostly planning for:

• Body energy
• Brain load
• Enough time to sit and recover
• All essential meds and medical items kept in my carry‑on

Even here, I usually add buffer beyond airline minimums.

2. Luggage not checked through

This is where minimum layover time goes up immediately.

Now you’re adding:

• Baggage claim
• More walking
• Finding recheck counters
• Standing in additional lines
• Possibly security again

Each step costs energy.
Each step reduces margin.

For many disabled and low‑energy travelers, this is the difference between a trip that works and one that becomes brutal.

Why I ignore “minimum connection times”

Booking systems ask:
Can this connection be done if everything goes right?

I ask:
Can this be done without sprinting or crashing?

Minimum connection times are built for speed and throughput — not for disabled bodies, older travelers, or anyone managing fatigue or medical conditions.

So I often add my own safety margin based on what someone can realistically do without paying for it for days afterward.

Treating myself as my own client

I haven’t flown internationally yet, so for this upcoming trip with my roommate and partner, I’m planning with a three‑hour floor at every layover and adjusting from there.

I’m asking myself the same things I ask clients:

• How long do we actually need?
• What absolutely has to be in our carry‑ons — especially meds?
• Where are backups and medical essentials?
• How much buffer do we want if something goes sideways?

I’m not trying to prove toughness.
I’m protecting the trip.