Describe a time when the weather changed your plans

A few summers ago a group of us — six cousins, all in our twenties — planned a weekend at the coast, the kind of trip we'd been trying to organise for months because everyone's schedules never lined up. We'd booked a little guesthouse, worked out who was driving, even planned which beach to go to first. Then, two days before we were due to leave, a typhoon warning went up for exactly that stretch of coastline — not a light one either, category three or four, enough that the local authorities were advising against any non-essential travel. We debated going anyway for about an hour, in hindsight a bit reckless, before common sense won out and we cancelled. Instead of sulking about it, my eldest cousin suggested we do the whole weekend at her place, so we turned what was meant to be a beach trip into an indoor one — cooking a ridiculous amount of food, playing board games until stupidly late, and watching the storm on the news like some live broadcast we'd paid for. I felt disappointed for the first evening, mostly because I'd been looking forward to swimming somewhere that wasn't a pool. But by the second day I'd more or less forgotten we were meant to be at the beach at all — it turned into one of the better weekends we'd had together in ages, which taught me that the plan mattering less than who you're with is one of those things you know abstractly until it actually happens to you.