Earlier this year, I found myself in the tricky position of having to buy a plane ticket from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, to Milan, Italy, only days after tensions between the US, Israel and Iran had sharply escalated. For about a week, I genuinely didn’t know what to do.

A quick glance at a world map reveals the problem: the fastest and cheapest route from Southeast Asia and Australia to Europe cuts straight through the Middle East. Etihad was my obvious choice, with the best fare, shortest layover and quickest journey. The catch? Abu Dhabi lies barely 200km from Iran’s coast, and fears of retaliation and regional disruption were dominating headlines.

But with a signed contract and a looming Lonely Planet guidebook deadline, I had little choice but to get to Italy somehow. I scrambled for alternatives through China and direct flights to Europe, only to find prices had skyrocketed. Flights from Shanghai to Rome that I had paid $380 for a little more than a year earlier were now topping $3000 one-way.

As I obsessively refreshed airline websites and news feeds, I noticed that Etihad, Emirates and Qatar Airways were still flying, albeit with heavily reduced and constantly shifting schedules. The situation itself seemed suspended in a strange, uneasy limbo.

“I think you can fly Etihad,” a friend working in aviation told me, based on his latest insider intelligence. The fare was irresistible: $880 return from Kuala Lumpur to Milan, fully refundable if things worsened. I booked immediately. Within days, the flight was pushed from March 21 to March 26.

When I arrived at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, I half expected to be turned away. Instead, my flight sat calmly on the departures board while passengers queued at check-in.

“Is it all safe?” I asked the agent as my luggage slid onto the belt.

“Yes, for now,” she replied. “And we hope it stays that way.”

At the gate, many passengers looked like they, too, had been shuffled across cancelled or rescheduled flights. Yet by the 11pm departure, the plane was surprisingly full. I sat between two Malay men in tunics and turbans, glanced at the elegant Jawi calligraphy across the pages of the Qurans they were studying on their way to Mecca, put on a terrible movie and drifted off to sleep.

Abu Dhabi airport turned out to be almost eerily normal. Walking through its hospital-white tunnels, the only noticeable difference from previous transits was fewer passengers and more attendants shepherding anxious travellers toward onward connections. My layover lasted barely 90 minutes: just enough time to wash my face, find my gate and wait for the Milano call.

Everything around me felt calm, procedural and strangely ordinary.

The onward flight to Italy was equally uneventful. Only upon landing did another email arrive informing me that my return flight had been delayed by a further day. There was little to do except prepare contingency plans and continue following developments from afar.

Five weeks later, after a steady diet of increasingly chaotic headlines from the Gulf, I checked-in for my return from Rome without issue. At Fiumicino airport, an affable Etihad agent reassured me that “the situation is under control”. We were both more worried that my 2L tin of pure Calabrese oil would break inside my luggage than any potential drone attacks.

On April 30, Abu Dhabi’s Zayed International Airport was overflowing. Far from slowing down, it felt busier than ever, with packed departure boards and crowded gates. Even then, my transfer was smooth, my onward flight left on time, and nobody around me seemed remotely panicked.

In the end, what struck me most was not the fear, but the surreal normality of it all. Airports remained brightly lit, flights remained full, and thousands of people continued moving between continents while headlines suggested the world was on fire. From inside the journey itself, it was hard to reconcile the panic on the world’s screens with yet another packed middle-of-the-night boarding call to Europe.

My “adventure” was certainly nothing so extraordinary as to give me any bragging rights — just a regular ol’ flight. To answer the question: yes, I think you shouldn’t let fear ruin your summer travel plans if you are planning a stopover in the Gulf.