Congrats! Now let's go sue some people! :D

You had to overnight on the regional jet? I think I would have slept in the terminal instead! :)

December 1996.

Before my wife and I were married (and were living in Siberia) she was on a K7 flight from YKS to OVB. The weather was horrible as it often is in Siberia during winter.

About the time the plane was supposed to land at OVB, the pilot came on the PA to explain that the airport was closed due to weather conditions and that they would have to fly on to KEJ. About the time for landing there, the pilot again explained that the airport was closed at that they would have to fly on to TOF.

The plane landed at TOF and came to a stop on the runway. The passengers had to walk down the steps onto the runway and trudge across the taxiways and fields to the termina--all in 6+ inches of snow.

The rest of the story.

My wife and I had a K7 pilot friend living in ‘our’ Siberian town and he happened to be the pilot on the flight that night. He was very glad to be alive and went on to explain what actually happened. The weather was indeed bad and that’s why the plane was diverted to KEJ. However, the controllers at KEJ refused to let the plane land there because they said the airport was also closed. When nearing TOF, the pilots were told the same thing--the airport was closed and they would not be allowed to land. Our pilot friend then told the controllers at TOF that they were about out of fuel and that they were landing. There was apparently some argument between the pilot and controllers at this point.

Anyway, our pilot friend decided he had no choice but to land and described how he was watching the fuel gauge and then glancing out the window at how far away the runway still was. The reason the plane came to a stop at the end of the runway: it ran out of fuel.

I still think this is hilarious in retrospect:

Transiting BKK (Terminal was 90F+, 90+ humidity and no air-con): I'm told to run for my flight flying from Gate 6, problem being that I'm at gate 70. I slip on the (freshly polished) lino floor after 50 yards, breaking an exciting combination of bones in my right foot. I then keep running the 500+ yards to my gate; by the time I got to my flight, I was in agony - trying to run but being beaten back by the pain, sweating from the heat, humidity and effort; still I do not want to miss this flight. Murphy's Law: the damn flight's late. I sit there at the gate, fuming.

When we finally board - we're driven to the rear steps. Think about that. I have a broken foot, I'm flying full fare business, and am sitting in seat 1A. And now I need to climb a set of stairs and walk (well, limp) the length of the plane.

When we land in HKT - they make me walk the 400 yards to immigration. For a few yards I just decided to crawl, since it seemed like the least painful way of moving.

Alex

I guess he was afraid of us rednecks.

From these posts, it’s obvious I’ve been fortunate. Best and worst flight was from a few years ago, EZE-MIA 767. I immediately went to sleep, but 1.5 hours later was awakened by a relatively steep, rapid descent. I looked out the window, and saw the start of a fuel dump. “Outstanding, let’s get those flammables out of here!”, I’m thinking. Argentinean and Uruguayan grandmas are loudly praying, and I’m trying to figure where we’re going to land. I don’t detect any problems, but the FC steward is feverishly checking the overheads in the front part of coach. We safely touch down at around midnight at ASU; they’ve reopened the airport for us. When exiting the aircraft, there’s a powerful stench of burned electrical wiring in FC (Can you say “Swissair 111"?)

As we waited in the terminal for a couple of hours, the AA crew rolled in the service carts and gave us what was left of the beverages, a nice touch. Finally, it’s time to transport to the lovely Hotel Chaco. As you might imagine, there’s nothing open in Asunción at 0300, so I eat a bag of chips, take a shower, and hit the sack. I’m fortunate there’s lukewarm water and no bedbugs in this fine establishment. I awake to discover my very modest room does have a lovely view of the Paraná River, but I have concerns about the balcony's crumbling concrete, so I return to the safe confines of the hotel proper.

After several false alarms, a bus arrives at 1300 for a return trip to ASU. One of the upsides here was the airport bar: Bavería may be the best beer I’ve ever had the pleasure to drink. We intentionally boarded last, being hurried by the FA’s. Of course, we sat on the runway for an hour: seems someone forgot to load the meals. To AA’s credit, they did fly in a different aircraft and master A&P from GIG.

Off we go to everyone’s favorite, MIA. We arrived around midnight, and the crew received a hearty round of applause. While waiting for my luggage, I found the snout of a German Shepherd up my a**. The Customs agent said, “Don’t worry, Señor.” I slowly turned, addressed him in English, and showed him my credentials and “non-standard” passport, which only exacerbated the situation. Finally, we were directed to an unstaffed desk. When the AA personnel arrived much later (with very bad attitude), same little old ladies from Argentina and Uruguay, God love ‘em, began roundly cursing the staff in Spanish. I would have been hauled away by security, but this group of 30 or so knew they could vent with no repercussions, and really unloaded verbally. I found it hilarious.

We’re finally bussed to another dump of a hotel, where I get four hours’ sleep, then it’s back to MIA, where you can figuratively feel the hostility in the air. Kiosks are a recent innovation, and passengers are being encouraged to use them. I decide to do so and am immediately accosted by an angry passenger with an inferiority complex (thinks I’m “breaking line”). My first inclination is to return same, but I let it go. The AA employee responsible for helping folks at the new kiosks was the friendliest, most professional person I’d met in a long time. After checking in, I head towards the concourse, but decide to turn around and record the name of this superlative employee. In my letter to AA, I made sure to complement the flight crew and this nice Brit lady, a shining beacon in the sewer that is MIA. Received a decent corporate response and was comped (Didn’t anticipate that!)

:eek: :eek: That's amazing! That would probably be the worst travel experience.

One of the times I flew through Midway on ATA their computers were down also. The weather was bad, and some flights were cancelled. Needless to say, it was not fun.

By the way, you are the first person I know (on FT or otherwise) that is an elite on ATA.

Trip was from LGW to MSP, back in the summer of 2000. They announce preboarding, we all gather into the WBC herd at the gate, and then we stand there for 30 minutes or so. Turns out there's a maintenance issue - what a suprise given the plane - one of NW's crappy DC-10's.

So they let us board. Everyone gets on, and the plane gets hot - it's one of the hotter days in London, and sunny. The APU craps out, so no A/C on the ground. No big deal, I think. Turns out that the maintenance issue is with the center main gear. They can retract it manually, but won't deploy.

(A side note - the Paris Condorde crash was a few weeks earlier, caused by a problem with a CO DC10 - I think at the time we thought the part that fell off was from the CO's gear, but not sure.) I was trying not to think about THAT.

So we, no, NW has a choice. Fix the gear, get another plane, or go without the center gear. First choice - fix the gear. There's another DC10 sitting next to us at the gate. Use a part from that one. Good idea, wrong model or something. Another plane in London. Nope. So do without. No problem, except now we can't take as much fuel. (Remember - no A/C. Now it's REALLY hot in the plane.) It takes another 40 minutes to offload the fuel. Finally leave London 5 hours late, (and very sweaty).

Well, what happens when you offload that much fuel? Right - we get to stop in Gander for more gas. Gander was once a hoppin place, not any more. Now just a strip out in the middle of the tundra. But they are setting records for warmth also, and Canadian customs won't let us off the plane. So we sit for another 90 minutes (no a/c again) while they round up some fuel - do a little catering and send us on our way. Finally get in to MSP around 8 hours late.

Not the same as getting shot at - I guess most of my bad flights are just mechanical/weather problems.

Getting my 35MM Canon and many lenses confiscated by Chinese Customs in '91 and having to fork out hundreds of bucks to get it out while enduring endless hassle and interrupting a family vacation.

30 hours in CDG with US$10 and a puppy
 

Despite the joyous Aeroflot flight where two kooky Uzbekis tried to purchase me from my seat-mate, my CDG tale is slightly better.

I was returning home from a study abroad/work stint in Saint Petersburg, Russia 6 months late. (I fell in love with the place so cancelled my return flight, got a job, and stayed.) Needless to say, my parents were bitterly enraged with my decision to extend. After not talking to me for 2 months, they spent the next 4 alternately cajoling and threatening me to get my a$$ back home and finish college. :rolleyes:

I managed to acquire a gorgeous little furball while I was there, and refused to leave this pup in Russa. So she was travelling home with me. No cage, nothing. (I yelled and bullied my way onto the flight sans cage for poochie in LED, as I had spent enough time there to learn the "Russian way.")

So I FINALLY am on my way home. Have a connecting flight in CDG. As I'm standing in line to check-in with Air France, there's a loud "BANG!" Military and policemen start swarming all over the place. Evidently, a bomb went off somewhere. All the monitors and computers go down. It's chaos.

Eventually, everything's back up and running, but now it's a mere 30 minutes before my flight is about to depart. Of course, everyone else is in the same boat, the lines are clogged with bodies, and my flight leaves without me.

When I get to the desk, the gate agent says he'll rebook me, and then proceeds to ask me how I'll be paying for the ticket. Excuse me??? A bomb goes off in *your* airport, I miss my flight because *your* system went down, and now want *me* pay for a new ticket??? I think not.

Fortunately I was able to remedy that situation with just a few words and no hysterics. However, when I asked to be put up in a hotel, the man looked down his pince-nez at me and said "Mademoiselle, you are lucky I'm putting you on tomorrow's flight without a fee." I didn't push my luck.

When I called my folks to tell them that I missed my flight, they started tearing into me. At one point I was screaming "A BOMB WENT OFF, IT WASN'T MY FAULT!!" at them so they'd stop haranguing me for delaying my return home yet again.

I had $10 on me. Was a college student, so no credit cards. I bought a baguette and a diet coke, and there went all my money. And I had 24 hours left to go. Poochie got the meat and cheese, I got the bread and coke.

They had showers, but any benefit of cleaning up went by the wayside as I only had dirty laundry to towel off with.

Eventually I got hungry enough to dip into the Beluga caviar I was bringing home. I recall going to one of the restaurants in CDG and miming a can opener with the maitre'd. He took pity on my sad, disheveled self and dog, and also gave me a plastic cup I could drink water from. I'm sitting there in the airport, scooping caviar with my fingers: One bite for me, one for the dog, one for me, one for her...

That was before I spent the night in a plastic chair in the airport basement. They close the rest of the airport off. *sigh* I discovered that right after I got kicked out of a deserted first class lounge I had just comfortably settled into for the night.

At one point poochie squatted in the airport and peed. Yes, I rushed and cleaned it up immediately. But I couldn't help but think how well she articulated exactly what I was feeling about the entire experience....

big V

Yep, we're a rare species. Since we tended to commute on the same flights each week, we got to know a couple of others. But often we were the only ones...I suspect that's why they often forgot to call Elite boarding, especially in Orlando. Now we've switched to SW, but I've kept my ATA Elite card as a souvenir of the good old days. I miss their 757-300s!