Having lived overseas for eight years I, until recently have felt very comfortable about international travel. I thought I knew it all. Silly me. A trip during the recent snowy whiteout of England and the continent taught me a few new interesting points about traveling abroad.

Destination: Copenhagen, Denmark, a.k.a. Happy Land (Did you see that Oprah show where she declared Denmark home to the happiest people on earth? They must be happy; their coins sport teeny hearts.)

The Purpose: An annual mother-daughter trek to visit a friend whom I met in the fantasy land of Dubai back in ’86.

Plan of attack: Houston to Heathrow, Heathrow to Copenhagen and back again.

The enemy: Snow. Snow everywhere. So much snow, the UK ran out of salt and grit. Not deep snow, but a few inches covering the island just did them in.

What went down: Late leaving Houston made the catching of connections iffy. By the time we got to Heathrow, connections were a non-issue. The departure board screamed "Cancelled" after every flight to the continent. Hours in a rebooking line had my daughter Elle Crofton and I scheduled to depart at 4 p.m.

Lesson One: Practice your catching skills. To appease the traveling hoards, airline officials threw bottles of water and packets of salt and vinegar chips at us while we queued in serpentine lines for 2½ hours to rebook.

Lesson Two: When you see food, eat food. Once rebooked, we wandered for hours through the food marvels of Heathrow’s Terminal 5. We strolled past Wagamama, checked out Gordon Ramsay’s Plane Food, marveled at the whimsy of Giraffe and their global menu, ogled the sushi bar, considered briefly the caviar spot, checked out the sandwich selection at Pret a Manger, and contemplated a pint or two at a cozy pub spot. But in the end we opted to save ourselves for dinner with friends in Denmark. Big mistake.

Lesson Three: In bad weather don’t believe anyone. Our 4 p.m. departure changed to 6 p.m., then to 8 p.m. We did not board until 10 p.m. In Copenhagen our friend, having diligently checked online for our flight status, had three times trucked off to the airport to greet us.

Lesson Four: When you see food, eat food. Around 9-ish we decided to grab a bite. Ha. Everything was closed, the daughter regressing to that “I am hungry” crankiness of a toddler. At midnight, having not moved an iota, we disembarked. Seems the baggage handlers had gone home, without unloading the bags from the plane’s previous flight. I volunteered to do it myself but no one took me seriously.

Lesson Five: Use technology. Off the plane we got. And into the immigration queue—miles long. Seems we were not alone, as a dozen or so flights had been simultaneously and similarly affected. Frightening thoughts of yet another rebooking line on the other side spurred creativity. I told the kid to turn on her phone and call Dad stateside to make rebooking his problem.

Problem solved, flight booked. We shared our neat little trick with a few surrounding travelers. Around 2:30 a.m. we found ourselves back in the airport, this time in the great ticketing hall, one totally trashed but open coffee kiosk but no accessible restaurants, open or not. Toting rather narrow and very thin mats and blankets that had been passed out by airport personnel, looking for a spot to do the same, pass out, we were not alone, and we were still hungry.

Lesson Six: Keep those gracious Texas manners with you at all times. We awoke to screams as stranded travelers discovered their flights to Rome had been canceled for the day. Loud, emotion-packed voices proved to be grossly inappropriate behavior after an airport sleepover. Bobbies rushed in and hauled the screamers off to wherever screamers get hauled off to. Our flight too had been canceled. We kept quiet—though our stomachs grumbled.

Lesson Seven: Good deeds are rewarded. Our presence in the rebooking line seemed inevitable, until our traveling, phone-calling friends from the previous night suggested we all head over to the queue-free ticket machine kiosks, every few manned by an attendant. Head we did, my biggest and best Texas smile in place. I guess the smile did the trick. Though the attendant could not book us, she directed us to a line-free counter and in a few minutes I had yet another ticket in hand.

Once in the duty free, restaurant-laden zone we ate and we celebrated. Baked beans, baked tomatoes, meaty bacon and fried eggs at a little pub, steamed chicken and veggie dumplings at Wagamama’s, a mighty tasty Thai chicken salad sandwich at Pret and a toast to trials and tribulations survived at Gordon Ramsey’s Plane Food.

Lesson Eight: In the UK, don’t do the math. One limoncello mimosa and a perfect cappuccino at Plane Food cost the equivalent of $25. When in London spend in the here-and-now—the pound. Multiplying to get the dollar cost dampens your spirit.

More than 48 hours after we had commenced our travels, we finally got to Copenhagen. Our luggage did not.

Lesson Nine: When traveling to northern Europe in winter, pack your scarves, gloves, boots and hats in your carry-on luggage. Next time we will, too.

Lesson Ten: In Denmark you can do the math. Here the krone is worth roughly 20 cents. Emergency earmuffs for 150 kroner sounds better at $30.

Lesson Eleven: When you can’t get warm, get colder. Copenhagen was so cold the canals were almost frozen. In borrowed boots and gloves we headed to the Icebar cph at the hip Hotel Twentyseven. Walls of ice, seats of ice, cocktails served in glasses of ice. Ah, Copenhagen felt warmer when we emerged.

On the way home, the travel was less eventful though there was at least one lesson learned.

Lesson Twelve: Pack your modesty in your checked luggage. Seems the first security check is not enough these days. At the gate I got a pat down that made me feel like I was at a middle school grab-and-grope party, only this time the lights were on and everyone was watching.

Next year I am hoping my friends will visit us.