If I Was on This Flight Id Never Fly Again
After thousands of passengers were left without their baggage due to a conveyor chugalug glitch at Heathrow aerodrome this week, we asked you to share some of your airdrome horror stories.
Many of you shared anecdotes nosotros could all relate to. From delayed flights to lost luggage and even a child evidently wanted past Interpol, you had information technology all.
But some of you merely actually took the beige. Here are your about agonising stories from airports around the globe.
Poodunnit?
It turns out airports are a ripe ground for scatological tales of woe. And so many of you had stories well-nigh number twos, some of you in actual airspace. But our favourite of all comes from torujordan, whose tale of desperation should resonate with everyone.
On a trip to Morocco my girlfriend and I were characteristically tardily for the render flight. Nosotros had traveled by motorbus from Chefchauen, a well known cannabis producing region, to the capital, Rabat, and it had been a rather long uncomfortable journey. It was made a lot worse by the fact that for the final couple of days i had had a rather "loose" breadbasket.
We got to the airport with about forty minuted until our flying took off, so we rushed through check in, changed what little money we had left, pushed to the forepart of the passport queue and and so tried to get through security. At that point, we were rather flushed from all the rushing, and I, more than I previously idea was possible, needed the toilet.
Inevitably, the guy in security pulled us to one side to take a closer look at our bags. And afterwards elimination everything decided he should go another security guard to take a further look. I then fabricated the mistake of telling him that I very much would similar to go to the toilet while we waited considering i had quite a bad tummy. He asked if i had taken any affair to which i replied, i have -- some Imodium -- but information technology hadn't helped. He then asked if i needed to have a doc to bank check out my tummy, I said that i was OK, I merely really needed to toilet.
I then realised that we had very different understandings of what was wrong. Telling me that he knew that I came to the airport from Chefchauen - he must have checked my exit visa or guessed - he suggested that my bad stomach might exist something to do with all the drugs I had taken or was smuggling in my stomach. I was looked nervous he told me. I tried to explicate that I needed the loo. At that point, out came two armed police officers with sniffer dogs, and we were dragged to the corner of security and we waited, confident if a niggling nervous, for them to check out our numberless.
I then got taken to an interview room, where a police force officer poked at my tummy while quizzing me about my drug consumption habits. I told him that "of course in that location is cannabis in Chefcauen" -- you get offered information technology all the time -- but "of course i didn't take any." He then said, after a little conferring, that I I would have to wait while they constitute a doctor to "examine me." I tried to explain, once again, that this was a big misunderstanding and I only needed to go to the toilet simply the more I remonstrated the more information technology seemed inevitable that i would end upward with a latex gloved hand exploring my nearly intimate parts.
We waited, my girlfriend in tears; the police now were giggling and taking what seemed to be a remarkable corporeality of joy from our misery. Eventually somebody arrived to examine me: the original security officers. I asked nigh their medical credentials but i was told i didn't accept a choice.
Round the corner I went with him. We stopped exterior a disabled toilet and he pointed to the door. Finally! I idea. And and then information technology became obvious that the disabled toilets were in fact the examining room and he was coming in with me. He and so told me that he was going to check if i was lying or not and told me that if i needed to become i should go now in a rather threatening tone, although he might have but been pissed off that he had fatigued the curt-straw of watching me defecate.
I was just nearly to ask if he could leave me alone while i went, but i no longer cared. Down came my trousers, and while I enjoyed an explosive, thundering poo, my lesser turning temporarily into an aerosol of faeces, i looked upwardly at him and with a smug smile that said "well i did tell you." After a infinitesimal or so, he left me to it. And by the time i returned my girlfriend was packing our numberless one time more, still a footling shaken and uncertain every bit to where they had taken me.
The plane ended up being delayed, and then nosotros even got our flight. Only it's taught me a lot. There are ever bastard cops where ever you are; learning your rights is upwardly at that place with remembering your passport; and make certain you carry money in instance you demand to bribe somebody in a disabled toilet in an airdrome in gild to get home.
Excuse me sir, but those aren't your spectacles
How do you current of air up the police in Bilbao? By accidentally picking up another rider'due south specs.
Bilbao Airport (the new 1) about 8-9 years ago. Going through the security scanner I was called back by i of the police force security hovering around at the end who handed me a pair of magnifying glasses that were sitting at the end of the conveyor belt where I'd just picked my handbag upwards. I said thank you and wandered off with my family and a friend to the cafe.
Near 15 minutes later my brother said "I recollect those three annoyed looking policemen are pointing at you"!
It seems I'd mistakenly taken the glasses that belonged to someone else by error (I did honestly have a pair with me, I thought they'd fallen out my bag) and he was standing there with the policemen who came over to our table and started pointing and gesticulating at me and the glasses.
I don't speak Castilian, neither did anyone else with me, the whole cafe was silent and staring at u.s. just fortunately, the chap whose glasses I'd accidentally taken was German and did speak Spanish, he also spoke excellent English. He was very overnice and accepted my massively scarlet-faced apology that I truly had taken them past accident and left with the three policemen who glared at me every bit they departed.
A rather uncomfortable experience at the time, not sure it warranted 3 police officers, merely we express mirth about it at present..........!
Cheesy socks (literally)
Anything to declare? Oh nothing much, just a suitcase full of melted cheese.
Berlin in the meridian of summertime. Connecting flying cancelled on the runway, so I missed the international departure from Frankfurt to Tokyo.
The big problem was the large choice of European cheeses I had placed in the suitcase, which was sent to who knows where. When nosotros were finally reunited the hard cheeses were soft and the soft cheeses were liquid. And the stench accomplished the almost incommunicable task of completely overwhelming my calendar week's collection of used socks.
Incorrect flight
Where there is a horror story, there is commonly a hero. In this instance, Ecosse264 would exist just that in this tale of a flying booking gone horribly wrong.
My best friend and I were on the final stage of our world trip and in Cusco we visited a LAN Peru role to change our final flight home past a day or so. The next day we noticed that my friend'southward connecting flight in London to Newcastle was wrong - they had booked her connexion a YEAR subsequently she landed at LHR.
The LAN office in Cusco was closed for Easter, and so we tried to change the ticket online (it was a BA, One World alliance ticket) but no joy. Unfazed we flew from Cusco to Lima to catch our flight to the Great britain thinking we could sort this out with LAN at Lima. Hahahahaa...
Three hours - and ane shift change - later, we were still arguing with LAN about the error. They were adamant they would not change it, despite seeing that the original connection was the aforementioned mean solar day and that their colleague had made the mistake!
Frustrated at the complete ineptitude of LAN, and with a very angry, shouty best mate losing her rag ('I HATE THIS Country') I decided to do what all skilful PAs do: sort it out. I hopped online and booked my friend a BMi flight to Newcastle, I then called British Airways. It was non cheap, however, I got a very nice lady in the UK who took note of my outcome, that we had spent more money on a flight, and that nosotros were displeased. Ah, Britain.
It took 4 months of letters to get the flight connection refunded and an amends from LAN, however.....she got dwelling house!!
Don't get cocky
Who knew Han Solo could cause such offence? A cautionary tale for you lot novelty t-shirt aficionados out there.
Just another i -
On our flight out to Thailand for our honeymoon, Mr E got stopped at Heathrow security every bit he was accounted to be causing offence to other passengers. His law-breaking? Wearing at t-shirt with a picture show of a Lego Han Solo and the words "Don't become Cocky!"
We never constitute out what element caused offence; the Lego, the Stars Wars theme, but whatever it was he had to wear his t-shirt within out while were in the terminal.
The staff on the our Thai Air flying must take though we were absolute freaks when we asked them if they had whatsoever issues with him wearing his t-shit the right way round when we got on the flight
Travel karma
"Never laugh at somebody'southward travel misfortune," writes NotSingingAnymore. On second thoughts, nosotros probably should accept put this one offset...
A friend was flying in from Canada to run into us in Lisbon. "We" were a football team flying from Switzerland and planned to run across said friend in the airdrome on inflow. He never turned up - his connecting plane from Heathrow was diverted to Porto when one of the other passengers had a cardiac arrest. He eventually met the states at the hotel but had no baggage, which had been lost in transit at Heathrow. He waited the requisite 3 days without baggage before hit the style shops to buy underwear etc. His plight gave us much amusement.
On the manner back the friend was travelling to Hong Kong as he'd been moved to that role. We waited for the EasyJet flight dorsum to Basel equally he boarded his HK flying in business class. Abiding delayed messages alerted to us an issue with our flight and when nosotros somewhen took our seats we were v hours late. Basel won't allow landings after midnight. Easyjet decided to send us to Lyon instead (which the tannoy insisted "is well-nigh Basel" - it isn't). We got shunted on to a rickety bus at 2 a.one thousand. and trundled to Basel, arriving exhausted at 07:50 a.m. (10 minutes before the deadline at which EasyJet would have owed usa compensation).
At this point I received a text from the friend who had headed off to Hong Kong. He had landed on time and had been seated side by side to Alice Cooper, a fascinating companion who was happy (over a large quantity of Jack Daniels & coke) to share stories of classic albums and touring shenanigans.
Never laugh at somebody's travelling misfortune, instant karma's gonna' go you.
We tin can render your documents... for a fee
U.k. Border Control queues are a doddle compared to this story.
Back in the late 1980s, when I was in my early 20s, I had to alter planes at Kinshasa, capital of the and then Zaire, now DR Congo. It was a cursory stopover of two or three hours, which I should have spent in the estrus and grime of what the airport staff referred to, with a directly face up, as the transit lounge.
Inside a few minutes of arriving in said lounge, a man came up to me, flashed his police ID, and demanded to see my passport and ticket. Afterwards inspecting them, he put them in his pocket, and told me to follow him.
We went downstairs, out through customs and clearing without pausing, and into the drome police station. I was taken into an interrogation room, where we were joined by two of my new friend's colleagues.
They kindly offered to aid me, for a small fee, in boarding my flight, an offering I politely declined on the grounds my ticket was in order. They then offered, in exchange for a similar consideration, to ensure that my checked luggage was loaded onto the plane, and once more I thanked them very much, but said I was sure everything would exist fine. At one bespeak, I said I had petty cash, but they told me they accepted travellers cheques.
This dance went on for hours, with all of us pretending the officers weren't demanding bribes to permit me go, and my stubbornly refusing to have advantage of their offers of assist. Somewhen, my plane landed, and they gave up.
I found myself at the bottom of the 747'southward steps, arguing with motel crew, who, understandably, weren't keen to let me lath without a passport or ticket. Eventually, a constabulary officeholder shambled across the tarmac and returned my documents.
Information technology was only when I settled into my seat that I realised what a fool I'd been. What felt at the time like a game -- which I'd won! -- could have caused me real bug. For the sake of £20 (though that actually was a lot to me dorsum then), I'd risked missing my plane, and mayhap spending time in a Zairian jail. How long would information technology have taken the British consul to find I was missing -- and and then discover me? What might have happened to me in my jail cell during that time?
But I was immature, naive and it was my first fourth dimension out of Europe. Thank God the on-board booze in cattle course was gratuitous back so. Otherwise, I'd have blown £20 on getting boozer.
That flight has been delayed and you won't make the connection
Flying home to San Francisco, my Rome-Frankfurt flight was delayed due to bad conditions at Frankfurt aerodrome. When we finally landed there was no gate available, so the aeroplane was parked on the tarmac - coincidentally correct next to the Frankfurt-San Francisco plane I was supposed to transfer to - and a bus came to shuttle us to an airport entrance. The omnibus naturally drove us as far abroad as it could, from where I sprinted the length of the airport, arriving at the gate just equally the last passengers were boarding. The following chat ensued:
Agent: Which flying are you coming from?
Self: Rome.
Agent: I'thou sad sir, that flight has been delayed and you won't make the connexion.
Self: Simply I accept made the connection - I'm here. I don't even accept any baggage - just me, here, now.
Agent: But you cannot be.
Self: Merely I am.
Amanuensis: But you cannot be.
Self: But I am - look!
Agent: But y'all cannot be.
Cocky: Simply ...
No amount of argument could persuade the amanuensis that I was indeed there; the doors closed, and the half-empty flight left without me.
Where's grandma's flying?
Terrifying as this experience must have been at the time, parts of hert1883's story are truly heartwarming.
Around xx years ago my grandma was making the trip from China to join us in the UK.
She was in her 70s, couldn't speak a word of English, spoke Mandarin with a strong accent and was illiterate. So we booked her into a straight flight and my parents and I (I was seven then) waited dutifully at Heathrow for her to arrive.
Except her flying didn't arrive. At beginning it was labelled 'delayed'. This connected for hours. And then it merely disappeared from the boards. My parents, with their cleaved English, were panicked. We slept on the floor in Heathrow aerodrome that dark as they struggled to locate the airplane. The first of many nights I have since spent in airports and definitely the most scary.
Around 36 hours later nosotros found out the aeroplane had been held upward somewhere and we, every bit Chinese people did in those days, sought the assist of the Chinese Embassy. The Embassy actually provided the states with adaptation for 2 further nights until my grandma arrived at Heathrow, 3 days late, simply happy, good for you and completely unruffled and unconcerned.
She said she'd had a nice time with some ladies from some other province in China who'd looked afterward her and we had cypher to worry about. She wasn't sure what had happened but they'd landed somewhere and she'd been given a place to stay and good food. She's even made good enough friends to give a few of the ladies our address, which my mum had written down for her. A few months later, nosotros received a letter from ane of these ladies with a photograph of my grandma continuing in front end of St Basil's Cathedral in Moscow.
My grandma passed abroad in 2009. This is the master film of her my parents still display on their mantelpiece.
We're really lamentable, just we've dropped your wheelchair
As ID9528033 puts it, lost baggage is nil compared to travelling while in a wheelchair.
Oh all these stories of luggage, the prospect of men with rubber gloves...you obviously accept never travelled! Endeavour being in a wheelchair.
I accept a story for every time I take flown with my power wheelchair, from the very helpful checkin lady in Vegas demanding that I try and walk (really? I'd never thought of that? Let me give information technology a go but for you), to the Paratransit bus that had a lift that failed with me inside the motorcoach, as we're parked exterior the airdrome and the divergence time getting ever closer.
Withal, there is one that will remain with the states for all time. Flight from Vancouver Airport to Orlando for a massive family holiday. We are on the plane and the cabin crew enquire my husband if he can pace off the plane to talk to the footing staff. Zip new hither, nosotros've been asked before to show them how to make sure the battery is off. My married man is gone for a footling longer than I would take thought...and the cabin crew come back and inquire for our address in Florida. Hmmmm. Not normal.
My ashen faced married man gets dorsum on the plane to tell me that they have dropped my $25k custom congenital ability wheelchair from 20ft onto physical and it is destroyed. And we're on our way to our holiday...
To cut a very long story short, the holiday was painful - you tin't but rent a replacement chair - so I mean literally painful with the chair that I had. It took 5 months before everything was finished.
It was the airline's responsibleness, but not their fault - Vancouver footing crew put it in a freight elevator without putting brakes on and leaving the back door of the elevator open. 350lb of chair flying through the air...could have killed someone.
The airline, WestJet, were wonderful and did everything they could and I ended up with a lifelong friend from their mobility specialist in customer service. And they replaced the chair, without united states of america ever having a crossed word anywhere in the proceedings.
Has information technology put me off flying? Nah, flying again this year with WestJet. My mobility specialist friend already has the flights marked on her calendar...I've said I expect the chair to exist wrapped in industrial strength bubble wrap!
Your baggage is late? No worries!!!!!
Comment is complimentary: but facts Dice Hard
An honourable mention in our bonus eleventh entry goes to Midwinter, whose existent name we can only assume is John McClane. Yes, this annotate is the entire plot of Die Hard II. The header, from Midwinter'due south follow up comment, is a stroke of genius too. Well played.
And then this would have been effectually 1990. It was Christmas Eve and I'd gone to Washington Dulles Aerodrome to pick upwardly my wife, who was flight in from LA (where she worked at the time). I don't know if you lot think that winter, but it was a cold one, and the airport was nearly snowbound. Delays were expected.
To amuse myself, I had a couple of drinks at the airdrome bar. While I was in that location I spotted what I thought was a dodgy looking character. Intrigued, I followed him into the baggage claim hall, where I was appalled to see that the man was both conveying a gun, and seemed to interfering with some luggage due to be loaded up onto 1 of the plans. I was armed myself, and -- as is mutual in these situations -- a shootout ensured, in which I killed one of the men. On reporting to airdrome security, I was appalled to discover that the man (whose ID I took) was a mercenary, supposedly killed in activeness a few years back. As you can imagine, I was fifty-fifty more suspicious than always.
Well, my suspicions were proved correct. Not long after that, a terrorist cell seized control of air traffic control and threatened to crash planes into the basis unless the dictator of their Due south American homeland -- then in jail in the The states on drug charges -- was released from custody. To their credit, drome security called in SWAT to try and take the terrorists out, but information technology was a disaster. The SWAT squad were massacred, and the terrorists went ahead and crashed a plane into the rails. At that place was over 200 people on board!
Really, it was a scrap of a downer.
Anyway, realising my married woman was in danger and that the government weren't going to solve the state of affairs, I took matters into my own hands. To cutting a long story short, I found the terrorists, killed them all and blew up their plane. Then I ran out onto the runway in the snow, and hailed down the remaining planes, saving thousands.
The irony is that just the previous twelvemonth I'd had to deal with a similar terrorist threat at my married woman's workplace in LA. I mean, honestly, how tin can the same thing happen to the same guy twice?
At that place are plenty more than we could have picked, so head over to this thread for more. As always, feel free to share your own beneath.
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2014/jul/02/ten-airport-horror-stories-never-want-to-fly-again
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