I've done thousands of layovers at this point. I've been the person who tries to squeeze every last drop out of a new city, and I've been the person who orders room service, puts on a nature documentary, and doesn't leave the hotel room. Both are valid. Neither is what people expect when they ask "oh, what do you do on layovers?!"
The honest answer is: it depends entirely on the trip, the city, how long I've been away from home, and how much my feet hurt.
But over the years, I've landed on a layover routine that actually works for me — one that helps me show up rested, present, and not completely burned out by week three of a tough month. I'm sharing it here because I get asked about this a lot, and because I think a lot of people — not just flight attendants — could use permission to have a slower, quieter kind of travel habit.
Why layovers are harder than they look
Most people imagine layovers as little vacations. And sometimes they are! But a 14-hour overnight in a city you've been to 30 times, after a 6-hour flight where you were on your feet the entire time, with a pickup call at 4:45 AM? That's not a vacation. That's recovery time dressed up in a hotel robe.
The pressure to "make the most of it" is real — from crew members who want company, from social media that makes every layover look like a travel vlog, and from the part of your brain that says you should be seeing the Eiffel Tower instead of sleeping.
I've learned to mostly ignore that pressure. Here's what I actually do instead.
The first hour: decompress before anything else
When I get to the hotel room, I give myself a full hour with zero agenda. Shoes off. Bags down. I drink a full glass or two of water because the cabin air has wrecked me, and I usually change into something comfortable. If I'm hungry I'll order something simple from the menu or eat whatever I brought.
I don't check my phone for work stuff. I don't try to plan my evening yet. I just exist for a bit.
This sounds obvious, but it took me years to actually let myself do it.
What I do with the rest of the time
It depends on the layover length, but here's my general rhythm:
Short layovers (under 16 hours): I treat these as rest layovers, full stop. A short walk if I have energy, a meal, and then I'm in bed early. These aren't the layovers for sightseeing.
Medium layovers (16–24 hours): This is the sweet spot. I'll usually sleep a solid 8 hours, then have a slow morning before doing one thing — a walk to a coffee shop I like, a short museum visit, a neighborhood I haven't explored. Just one thing. The rule of one keeps it manageable.
Long layovers (24+ hours): These feel like actual mini-trips, and I plan a little more intentionally. I'll pick one or two things I genuinely want to do, and I'll make sure to build rest time in around them.
The thing I always bring: my cross stitch kit
This might be the most Jumpseat Therapy thing I say, but hear me out.
Cross stitch has become my layover anchor. When I'm not sure if I have the energy to go out, or when I want to wind down before bed, or when I need something to do with my hands while I watch TV in the hotel room — I stitch. It's portable, it's quiet, it's genuinely calming, and it gives me something to show for those slow hours.
There's something really nice about picking up a project mid-flight, working on it during a layover, and finishing it a few trips later. The finished piece ends up meaning more because of where it traveled with me.
If you're a flight attendant or a frequent traveler and you haven't tried bringing a small stamped kit along, I'd genuinely recommend it. Our travel-sized kits were designed specifically with this in mind — they fit in a carry-on pouch and come with everything you need.
Sleep is non-negotiable
I know this sounds boring. But after years of running on four hours and convincing myself I was fine, I've become a fierce protector of layover sleep. Blackout curtains, earplugs, melatonin if I'm crossing time zones, and a firm no to the crew who want to stay out until 2 AM when we have a 5 AM van.
Being well-rested makes me better at my job and genuinely better company at home. It's not boring — it's just finally taking the job seriously enough to show up for it.
A few other things that make layovers better
A good book or podcast for the downtime. A comfortable pair of shoes for the one-thing walk. A snack stash so I'm not trapped by whatever overpriced airport option is available. A journal if I'm in a reflective mood — some of my best writing has happened in random hotel rooms.
And honestly? Giving myself permission to have a quiet layover without guilt. That one was the hardest to learn and the most worth it.
The real answer to "what do you do on layovers?"
I rest. I eat something good. I might explore a little or I might not. I stitch a few rows. I call someone I love. I sleep.
And then I do it all again.
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