Many times...
...I have got the sack for being late.
.
.
.
.
Bugger.
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 2:01, Reply)

Strolling through
Amsterdam airport security recently I got patted down and forgot the spliff I had in my top pocket.

On picking it out and holding it in front of my face I told him it was perfectly legal. . . he was about to pass me through when a larger security person decided to take me for a walk to a cosy room behind the glass. . . the twat wanted to confiscate it on the basis it was illegal.

He also refused to say where my spliff would go after he had taken it. The cheek of it!

I was about to argue the toss on the basis I could walk back to open air and smoke it. . . when I remembered the lump of black I had in my hand luggage.

Possibly the shock of someone asking for a spliff back threw him but he actually found it funny and let me go through.

My girlfriend thinks I am a bit of a worry.

I say. . . fuck 'em
(Fizzle, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 1:56, Reply)

The first time I flew from Narita to Tullamarine was only my second flight anywhere, and I wasn't especially taken aback by the security (or lack of)...
I had to send my suitcase through an x-ray (they told me to keep my backpack on, "daijoubu"), whilst I got to stand just behind the security bloke and watch the suitcase x-ray on the screen.
I could see the HUGE bottle of sake, the wires for my phone and camera chargers, some other strange shapes ... "Daijoubu! Okay desu!"
Then, they gave the suitcase back and pointed to a line that I had to join.
I could have, at some point during the wait on that line, slipped stuff from the backpack to the suitcase, and nobody would've noticed - they were too busy watching the twat Aussie bloke, who was yelling at the tiny airport ladies about having to pay a surcharge for his snowboard, skis and several oversized bags.

My dad works baggage security at Tullamarine, and when I told him the above story, he had a fit! "Japan's a terrorist target! You could've been carrying a bomb in your backpack! (thanks dad) They let you see the x-ray? What?? And letting bombs onto flights to Australia! Baaahhh!"

This was in Jan 2005 - by Dec 2005, the security was stepped-up considerably - the bastards raced up to me, made me open my suitcase and rustle through my undies, just because a SMALL bottle of sake showed up on the friggin' x-ray screen (which I couldn't watch this time).
(Celerydemon, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 0:03, Reply)

To blackfacedfightinggibbon
I've actually done that before. Well, I was pissing about on the escalator in The Louvre and it...broke. Spent the rest of the day paranoid about being pursued by the security guards/french secret police.
So yes. Too much pressure makes escalators break.
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 23:59, Reply)

Arms
I've been searched, questionned, interrogated and re-scanned (including my 3-inch platforms which brought my height up to a mighty 5'2") and ushered through by men with machine guns.

however

I count myself lucky. One of my friends on her way back to Australia had to go via Hong Kong. They checked her handluggage and then asked her to step aside. They then cuffed her and sent her to sit in a prison cell.

why?

The stupid girl had totally forgotten that she had about 10 live bullets in her handbag. Their group had done some army training, and of course all of them had nicked the bullets because it was 'cool', but the next day she went on trial for arms smuggling. Worst of all, she'd been flying home early to surprise her parents. Well, she did surprise them I suppose, They flew over immediately and bailed her out.
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 23:22, Reply)

I'm not afraid of flying...
...I just really hate travelling, and not just on planes either - it's boring, uncomfortable and there's always either some kid(s) whining or fucking about* or both. Either that or a bunch of morons chattering away at top volume about some banal shite or other, making me want to bury a ballpoint in thier skulls. I wouldn't mind if thier conversations and the statements contained therein were worth hearing, but 99 times out of 100, they aren't, unless the point is actually to make me want to kill them with everyday pointy objects. Whoever said that it's better to travel than to arrive was either going somewhere really shit or just a bit touched in the head.

I got caught out by some numptiness at Lyon airport too though (or was it De Gaulle? What's the difference, it's still France), on the way back from a snowboarding holiday. The wing was damaged as in SimonD's story but it was done by means of a half-asleep pillock on the ground crew driving some manner of support vehicle into it minutes before we boarded. We heard the crunch, looked toward the sound and our hearts sank as we looked at the minor but still groundworthy damage; that's our plane - chances are it's going nowhere now - this means we're going to be stranded in France - well, fucknuts. Our sentiments were echoed in the dolly's face as she waited for the phone to ring, which it did seconds later. We had to wait 8 bloody hours for another plane. After a week-and-a-half of Andorran munchies all I wanted was a sausage roll (a ginsters buffet bar was too much to hope for, I knew) and a king size snickers. Could I find even one of these things, even when the shops were open? Could I fuck. Just rows and rows of unappetizing mystery sarnies/pastries/fuck-knows-what and that kinder stuff you find on the continent with those kids on the wrapper who look like they're possessed or something. And crepes. Fucking French.

* /slightly off topic - I remember one time flying to Chicago and there was a couple with three young kids next to me in the centre seating bit. Once in the air, the kids were playing hide-and-seek and SCREEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEEAMING every time they caught sight of each other, which sparked a chase over and under the seats - not around, not down the aisle, oh no, but climbing over the seats and crawling under them as was deemed appropriate. It was only when one of the little shits kicked me in the head that I told them to have a minute. The mother got arsey and pulled me up '...don't talk to my kids like that/they're bored/long flight/if they were your kids...' etc. This struck me as unfair, seeing as it was her kids who were acting like rambunctious arseholes with no consideration for anyone else on the plane whatsoever, so I took umbridge. I pointed out that if we were in, for example, a childrens' playground then there would be no problem. Playgrounds are made for that action, after all. However, we were in fact on a COMMERCIAL JET AEROPLANE, TRAVELING AT VERY HIGH SPEED SOME 30-ODD THOUSAND FUCKING FEET ABOVE THE ATLANTIC OCEAN so had they indeed been my kids, they would already be crystal clear on the fact that there isn't room for Jungle Gym action here and that this kind of behaviour was not cute or endearing but ANNOYING, ANTISOCIAL AND DOWNRIGHT FUCKING DANGEROUS and so they would be SAT THE FUCK DOWN whilst SHUTTING THE FUCK UP. I also pointed out that any adult behaving the same way as her little darlings would have been lashed to thier seat by now with the police waiting for them at destination. I went on to suggest that if she herself was unable to make her spawn SIT THE FUCK DOWN and SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'd be only too happy to ask the cabin crew to do it for her. This cowed the woman's indignance somewhat and she managed to chill her kids out enough to stop me bundling the little fuckers into an overhead locker, along with her and her hen-pecked hubby, who incidentally didn't even look up from his lap during this exchange - no prizes for guessing who wears the strides there. Some parents piss me off with this whole 'Oooh, we deserve special dispensation because we propogated' thing - oh, do fuck off, and take your inconsiderate brats with you. Don't know how they managed to produce three kids between them anyway, since the bloke so obviously had no balls to speak of.

Okay, added so much to this one now that I must add the customary apologies for length, but I'll spare you the nob gag ;)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 22:24, Reply)

Chanchangi Airlines, Lagos, Nigeria
Gazing absently minded out of the window, waiting for us to begin taxiing I heard a distance thud. Presuming it to be the closing of the luggage compartment bay door I continue gazing, that is until my eyes reach the nose of the aircraft parked to our left.
A gaping hole, at least 4 feet in diameter had appeared in the nose of the aircraft.

Apparently a group of Nigerians had tried filling some type of oxygen canisters in the nose of the aircraft. Failing to notice the rise in pressure they continued the movement of oxygen...until the tank ruptured.

What a bunch of numpties.
( TN, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 22:22, Reply)

Not so much a fear of flying as....
....a fear of crashing.

I've got progressively more frightened of flying over the years despite having to travel abroad several times a year on business. In the early 90's I regularly flew from Stansted to Edinburgh, flying out on the first flight of the day - about 6.30am ish if I remember.

Now there is an unwritten rule in business travel that paying attention to the cabin crew whilst they give announcements and safety advice is just girly tartishness and shows you're not an experienced, hugely cocked member of the travelling business community. So I studiously studied my newspaper as the stewardess advised that, as this was the first flight of the day, condensation would come out of the air con grills when the engines started off. Nothing to be alarmed about at all.

Unfortunately I had missed all of this, and seeing the 'smoke' coming out of the grills all along the plane, and being the girly flying tart that I am, I leap to my feet and shout 'FUCKING HELL THE PLANE'S ON FIRE'.

For the rest of the flight I was subjected to what one could only call unrelenting smirking from my fellow passengers and undisguised loathing by the cabin crew.
(tell me about the rabbits, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 22:11, Reply)

Crash!
I was on a plane that crashed. Thankfully rather than being at 36,000 feet we were on the ground at an airport and doing probably about 30mph.

We were off on a skiing holiday and after an pretty boring charter flight we landed at Lyon airport. We were taxiing to the terminal when there was a huge crash, the plane lurched to the left, a stewardess fell over and my mate Mark shouted, "Yes, I've always wanted to go down the slides!". I was on the left of the plane and couldn't see out the window what was going on. In fact, it's all a bit of a mistery until one of my friends on the other sides of the plane called out, "Bloody hell, we hit the sodding lamp post!!!".

Yes, our highly trained pilot had driven the plane into a lamp post and torn the end of the wing off. Numpty.


(FiatPanda, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 21:39, Reply)

knives a-go-go
Languages can be a bitch. This is especially true if you try and stay on the right side of japanese policemen and neither speaks the other's language. I was returning from New Zealand nd came home via Kansai Airport. I'd got there and back with a Smith and Wesson lock-back knife in my hand luggage. It was useful for opening packets, cutting up fruit, odd bit of first-aid, the usual. nobody had challenged me over this until i got to Kansai's departure gates. There's a big picture of things you mustn't take aboard, complete with pictures for the illiterate and europeans. Pliers, swords, scissors, guns, grenades, warheads, poisons, mercury, the lot. I was without question obliged to turn it in for safe storage en route. So I approached a diminutive Japanese policewoman and it became quite clear that our languages met nowhere near the middle. I pointed at the sign, gestured vague humility and offered her the knife, closed of course. She seemed to understand, and opened it. 'click' it went, and the liner lock snpped into position. she seems satisfied that it's an ordinary knife, and tries to close it.

Except that she can't.

If you give most people a liner lock knife, they'll open it and then spend half an hour figuring how to unlock and close it. It's far from obvious. Now, here's me, i can't explain to this poor policewoman how to do it and she can't figure it out. Worse, she's stuck holding a razor-sharp knife that won't close. I had to - very gently - take it back off her, then close it. She had that "lost face" look for a second when she realised how simply it worked, quickly replaced by a "let's not mention this, eh" aspect as she took the thing for safekeeping. I got it back at LHR, in a nice envelope marked "one knife". Which made a happy end of it.

Apologies for length, it's less than the statutory 3.5".
(Jack Rarebit ...We like chillies, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 21:25, Reply)

immigration
Arrived at Atlanta airport and queued forever to get to the immigration desks, we all get through fine...except my grandmother who was last and isnt exactly P.C and when asked by the black customs officer "what is the purpose of your stay in our country" she shouts "it was OURS before it was YOURS i'd have you know". everyone around turned round gob smacked and we just watched as he stamped her into the country giving her the most evil glares you have ever seen.
(Haggard, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 21:22, Reply)

I've never flown, but...
Yes... anyway... I have a fear of flying. It's all down to my fear of heights. My fear of heights causes me to have a fear of escalators.

Yes. So, my class won a trip to Birmingham airport when I was but a wee slip of an infant school boy. Going up an escalator I was gripping so tightly to the side that the escalator actually halted... At least I think it was me... I've never been sure. Can someone tell me if this is actually a physical possibility? Maybe an escalator technician? I have no idea of the model number.

Sorry about the lack of length/girth/shinyness & the lack of amusing comical content. Yes.
(blackfacedfightinggibbon, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 21:05, Reply)

Airplane toilets
I remember being on a flight to New York first time i had flown and needing to take a piss. So i made my way to the bathroom closed the door and did my business. then i had a problem of not knowing how to open the funny toilet dors, cue lots of shaking and banging and me thinking i was trapped. So in a panic I booted the door as hard as I could square in the middle, it flew open with a loud bang and i had two astonished looking air stewardesses staring at me, the walk back down the aisle seemed to last forever...

Then there was a time in dublin airport where i thought my guts were coming out of my arse so i was holed up in a cubicle making some rather unflattering noises and all the time I could hear bastards outside laughing thier balls off. So embarresing...
(ShizerKaiser, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 20:05, Reply)

Special (Needs) Branch
Last one... (This is pre-9/11)

Had the inclination to go home to Dublin after being told that I had 7 days annual leave to take before the end of that month - otherwise I'd loose them. So I phoned a friend who works for a certain small airline that once flew from London City Airport. He promised to book the ticket (and get me a nice discount) for the next days mid-day flight.

Next day I arrive at City Airport (I've seen branches of Dixons bigger than that place) only to discover a note left at the desk by mate saying he couldn't book the tickets as the card details I gave him didn't go through (twat mixed up half the numbers). So I paid for the ticket right there in cash... which turns out to be something of a no-no.

So I'm halfway to the plane, walking down the tunnel towards tarmac when 3 men in dark suits and poorly concelled handguns appear infront of me and snatch my passport and boarding pass from my hand.

For 15 minutes I'm subjected to questions about my work, my home address, why I've got an Irish Passport but live and work in the UK (aparently that was a crime - I guess none of them had been to Liverpool or Kilburn). They even demanded the number of my (then) girlfriend who totally freaked out when her boss told her that some "Detective Inspector was phoning about your boyfriend" - I'm sure they were waiting for me to hand over my IRA membership card and give them the 'codeword'.

Still, they decided that I probably was telling the truth and allowed me to board the (still waiting) plane. I got a round of applause from the city-types. According to the very fit hostess, the 3 coppers were always stopping people in an effort to impress the flight crew.

TOP TIP: Don't turn up and pay in cash on the same day as your flight, aparently it looks 'dodgy' - and if you do, don't expect your luggage to be waiting for you at the other end, because it won't be....
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 19:58, Reply)

Johannesburg Airport
Flying to South Africa with 15 other 18-25 year olds for a charity 'fact finding' visit (actually was a weeks holiday with 3 hours taken to stage photos to prove to everyone in the UK we weren't there having fun 24-7... which we did)...

Anyhew - get to Heathrow and discover that there is a wide range of bars open. So we start what can only be described as the most contained pub-crawl in history - before boarding a 10hour flight where we will be served free alcohol. 14 Hours drinking does different things to different people - some (like me) just want to sleep it off, others get to the Immigration queue at Johannesburg Airport [staffed by the most muscular and scary looking women you've ever seen] and in a drunken slur, points to my Irish passport and shouts 'Have you declared the semtex in your bag yet Coops?'

Luckily scarey immigration woman on the desk just rolled her eyes and waved us through into the baggage hall (no doubt commenting to herself that Africa went to the dogs when the Europeans arrived), where I used my suitcase to beat some sense into certain members of our group.

TOP TIP: Don't go anywhere in a group where you're the only one with a non-UK passport.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 19:06, Reply)

German metal detectors
Last year I was at an airport in Berlin, and had made it as far as the very last security check before boarding my flight home. The queue wasn't going anywhere, so my pissed-off sense tingled and I realised something was wrong. Looking ahead it became clear that the metal detector was bollocked, and in its place was a hulk of a man with a handheld scanner thing. Now I'm a tolerant fellow but not even I fancied being felt up by big Jurgen. Anyway, it was now my turn so I took my shoes off and let his bear paws pat me down... I shat a brick when the scanner moved over my crotch and squeaked like an epileptic mouse. Images of surgical gloves and a smirking Jurgen filled my mind, but that was interrupted by a deep voice saying...
"Sorry, I can't control her, she's like this with all the boys!"
Jurgen you leg-end, next time I'm in Berlin I'll treat you to some frothy lager and a curry wurst.
(deljani riggweltered yer ma, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 18:52, Reply)

Guns, planes & Dubai don't mix
So happily just boarded the plane on the tarmac in Dubai airport (was a flight change from Hong Kong to London). I swapped tickets with my younger brother as I really fancied a window and as my arse touched down on my / his seat, a couple of armed guards walked down the aisle, looking at my seat number and staring right at me.. and asked me to accompany them to the tarmac.

Thankfully this was all pre 9-11 so it was bit more hushed stary whispers rather than catching the tube at Stockwell.

They'd opened up a suitcase I didn't recognise, pulled out a large handgun and asked me why it was in my baggage.. as the 4 of them surrounding me fingered their holsters!

Suddenly realised it was my brothers BB gun from Hong Kong.. but try to imagine explaining the concept of a BB Gun while trying not to point it or hold it threateningly as 4 arabic guards stare blankly & suspiciously at you.

Needless to say - they finally understood, or gave up when they didn't see any live ammo & I sheepishly got back on board so we could all take off..

fun

edit:

Another cpl that spring to mind.. When I was 12, smuggling my beloved albino mouse in my underwear for a 4hr flight after my parents told me they wouldnt allow pets. I still like to believe they were grudgingly proud when i whipped him out in the taxi after we landed!

And the classic of popping hotel cutlery in a friends hand baggage before we went through security - cue pissing myself laughing and being rewarded with several dead-arms
( Flamebunny i only have eyes for ewe, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 18:32, Reply)

PIA and Pee
Pain in the Ass (PIA) Airways picked us up in Bahrain, the flight was full of pilgrims on their way to Mecca.
Most of these chaps were on their first ever plane and first ever big trip.

The free tea (Chia) got to a few and the golden rule is, never use the crapper after 30 minutes on a middle eastern flight.

Anyhow, I had to have a pee, so I proceeded in a southerley direction to the plane rear.

A-ha an unoccupied bog, methinks.

So I opens the the door to find a chap trying to balance on the sloping walls next to the bog and piss in a squat position at the same time.

Sitting on your ass and reading the in-flight mag is for wooses and wimen apparently.

Anyhoo, he tries to turn around, falls off and pisses vertically in the air as let go of the autoclosing door and trap his head in it.

Steward sees the tell tale signs and sends me to first class; never found out if the guys surgery was successful or not.
(chrisjw, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 17:44, Reply)

Muscle food
Lived in Saudi for a while.
My mate Jules was coming back into the 'worlds widest beach' from Blighty, so the nurses asked hime to get some decent M&S knickers for them - the local stuff was all Taiwanese nylon, sweaty and yuk.

Freda wnet one better and had a parcel sent to him, he re-packed it in his case because the Raghead Customs open every case regardless, including closed parcels.

We were waiting for him behind the glass customs wall - they like everyone to witness your shame.

Raghead customs man pulls out some cans of Hop mash (intended for a prime brew of lager) with baked bean labels stuck on them and asked what they were for. Jules does a popeye and bares a muscled arm and points to the bulgy muscle.

"Aiwa" (OK) the rag says and delves in further, then pulls out some of Fredas black lingerie, very nice to, plus a multitude of ladies brief knickers.

"Ish" says the raghead and two mates join him and pull more lingerie out.

Cool as a cucumber, Jules flexes some muscle and points to the bulger again, then does the same with both arms.

For once and the only time ever they let him through with a smile.

Jules got a round of applause from the assembled expats watching thru the glass wall and the mash made a damn fine brew if I may say so.
(chrisjw, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 17:36, Reply)

Scrambled, or over easy?
Not mine, and credit to here: www.blacktable.com/blair060127.htm (Number 8) also not much to do with airports but it is to do with flying, and I loved it, and theblacktable is now dead, pahhh: Anyway:

"Won't say what city this was, but the day after my wedding, the night before leaving for 2 weeks to Kauai I was throwing out what ever would have spoiled in the fridge.
I pulled the last 3 eggs out of the fridge and took them out to the 11th floor balcony to smoke a joint with my cousin (my 4 a.m. ride to the airport)
We smoked the joint and decided we'd toss the eggs at cars on the street below us. I tossed one and missed a Mercedes by 10 feet. My cousin tosses his and misses a Porsche by 20 feet.
Fuck it I say and throw the last egg as far and as high in the air as I can IN NO GENERAL DIRECTION.
Out of nowhere this lady steps out of the shadows and this egg - this egg that started on the 11th floor- went as high as the 14th floor and 50 yards in distance came down in a glorious arc and landed FLAT ON THIS BITCHES FOREHEAD.
Not the top of the head. Not the side of the ear, but KAPOW - LIKE RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES AND THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE.
She went down like a sack of potatoes and I almost shit in my pants with the fear of being in jail instead of being on my honey moon.
Needless to say, everything was cool - I made it to Hawaii the entire time and had a hard dick on the entire flight."

Job.
(tmozzy Eb Eb+ Ab Abm Eb Bb+ Eb On a large cheesey organ, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 17:32, Reply)

Air India
On my way back from Kashmir, via India to Saudi Arabia (before the respective wars) we were approaching D'haran Airport in an extended body Boeing 747 and cruising over the Gulf of Aqueba on the final approach, when the steward sitting in front of me released his 4 point harness, dropped to the floor and started praying in the full prostrate position to Allah for a safe landing.

It was nowhere near prayer time, but he told me the co-pilot was in training.

This made me feel really, really safe, especially considering the erst of the crew were Hindu and seemed oblivious.
(chrisjw, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 17:24, Reply)

Oddly enough
Doing the unaccompanied minor thing on a flight to the States at the age of 15, was randomly offered sex by one of the stewardesses. I turned it down, mainly because I was too taken aback to realise she was only joking.

Fucking cocktease.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sat 4 Mar 2006, 17:15, Reply)

awaiting a story
We snuck a condom full of creatine powder into my mates hand luggage this morning. He is on a flight to torquay this afternoon, we are awaiting a report now. My god we are bastards, but we like us!! Length, girth? It makes even my eyes water!
(lankynyack, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 15:42, Reply)

Airport delays
I had the misfortune of having a flight delayed for 13 hours whilst at jakarta airport, bearing in mind this was a little over a week after the bali bombings, que me in the quietest airport ive ever seen with the only company being chain smoking japanese businessmen and the worlds most annoying piped chimed music, the only escape was in the packed smoking room which had some obscure asian telly programmes blaring. It was shit to say the least and the weird noodle thing i ate made me ill.
(lankynyack, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 15:39, Reply)

How to fuck up your mates.......
I was sharing a room with a mate in a guesthouse in Thailand and on the floor one day I left a nice bottle of the K-hole in a bag of ice. Of course the ice all melted and the water went all over the floor and our backpacks. Not a problem at all and that night a good time was had by all dancing like bread bins.

Forward a week and my mate flew to Adalaide. Customs swabbed his bag, which led to a four hour interview. Apparently the best bit was at the beginning when they asked him"Can you explain why you have traces of special K on your bag?" to which he replied "Isn't that a fucking breakfast cereal". Apparently they get quite arsey if you swear at them.

Still let him into the country though.

Length uuuurrr what are you talking about, I can't even feel my feet, where do my arms stop anyway.........doesn't the roof look furry..... I'm confused.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 15:32, Reply)

Don't do barefoot
I was on the last day of a work trip to Jamaica. I went to the beach with my bag (leaving my suitcase with reception) and had a bit of a kip. I'd had a hard night before smoking weed and dancing in a club in Ocho Rios (i actually spent more time on their indoor water slide but that's another story) and spent the morning horse-riding so i was knackered. So i'm sleeping on the beach and keep waking up suddenly (making all sorts of startled grunting snorts and gutteral oaths much to the bemusement of the other holiday makers). So we go to leave and i see that the efficient porters have sent my bags to the airport ahead of me. I'm in swim shorts, t-shirt and sandals for my flight home, great. So we get on the plane and i'm still feeling knackered. I slip my sandals off and drift off for a few hours of the dreamless. It would have been so less painful if i hadn't woken up with a start a few hours in and kicked the metal frame underneath the seat in front of me snapping the little toe of my left foot. I crammed my fist into my mouth and shrieked a muffled shriek. The pain was awful but made awful that the all of the passengers on the plane were asleep so i couldn't yell like a mother-fucker. I hope you winced when reading this, I winced writing it.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 15:27, Reply)

im glad none of you know me...
I once peed all over myself after falling over in a toilet cubicle. We hit some major turbulence and fell face first onto the toilet. Managed to spray my legs, sink and floor.


No one on the plane clocked on though, so its all good.
(D.Anger, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 15:06, Reply)

Customs are stupid
I went to Paris a couple of years ago with a weirdo from my French class (this was the point of the trip). We spent four days wandering around the city speaking French to people and so on, and on the last day we were waiting in the departure lounge for the flight in front of us to leave. It was the middle of summer and so there were about 500 screaming kids running around waving the stuff they'd got from Disneyland in the air. They were still coming through security when the line stopped.
One of the kids had bought an obviously plastic, obviously totally harmless lightsaber from Disneyland and about five security people were looking at it and debating whether to let it go or not. Of course the kid wasn't too happy about this and was screaming his head off. Meanwhile the kid's mother was trying to calm him down, and announced loud enough for the whole lounge to hear in the broadest Welsh accent ever (trust me, my family are as Welsh as they come) that "your father's having kittens!".
Long story short, after delaying our flight for half an hour with their dithering and making us lose our runway slot, security confiscated the lightsaber. The obviously harmless plastic lightsaber. Now I know this was in 2003 after security had tightened up, but I don't think anyone could do any damage to anything with a cheap souvenir.
( Maladicta, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 14:53, Reply)

Brazil
Another Fam Trip story. I'd been charged by work with taking 10 travel agents out to Brazil for 6 days. Piece of pish, i think. I hadn't bargained on the staggering ineptness of Portugal's national airline, TAP. Travelling via Lisbon (so four flights in total, two there, two back) they somehow managed to incorporate 12 hours-worth of delays into the flights. The worst of which was 8 hours from Salvador to Lisbon. This meant having to stay in a hotel in Salvador for the night. If you've ever seen City Of God you've seen Salvador. Shit Hole. By this point my patience is being worn thin by the 8-strong female contingent of my group (foxy as hell but thick as fuck and prone to exaggerated outbursts of every emotion - cunts). They're all wailing about being late home for some reason. Admittedly, a lot of them had missed their connecting flights in the UK (which they hadn't insured, haha). After my fretful night in the hotel and an upgraded flight back to the UK (which mollified me slightly), I left the moaning cunts at Heathrow airport to sort out their own journeys home. Of course, i was meant to stay with them until everyone was sorted. This is probably the reason work have never sent me on another trip. Give a fuck.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 14:40, Reply)

Finland
A few years ago I went to Finland, I hate flying, and it pretty much fucks up my ability to think rationally
I had to change plane in Amsterdam, this all went well.
Upon a arriving in Helsinki, I have no idea where to go so I follow everyone else.
We are made to walk though a doorway in single file, I had managed to get quite near to the front.
Upon passing though the door I noticed a black lab, having had one as a pet I thought oh look at the nice dog and patted it on the head as I walked past. This caused two of the customs officials to jump on me and drag me out of the single file queue. I suddenly realized what the dog was there for, catching people coming back from the dam with some smoke. The other passengers all started mumbling and looking at “the nasty drug smuggler”
The customs people start shouting at me in Finnish the only word I could understand is hashish, so I start with my babbling defense, I was only in Amsterdam for an hour I didn't leave the airport, no I don’t have any. I'm suddenly frog marched to passport control where my pockets are searched, I fort this isn't going to be to bad, when suddenly I’m asked for my “Papers” my passport and tickets are taken away, panic sets in big time now. I’m just waiting for the SS to turn up now. It still hadn’t occurred to me being innocent would mean they would soon let me go.
I'm lead away to a small room and questioned by some one with virtually no grasp of the English language. He then tells me to drop my pants (I closed my eyes and prayed to every god I could think of.) Once the search is over (luckily no cavities where checked) he tells me to go and get my suitcase so they can look though it. Off I go, by now mine is the only one left of the baggage thing, I pick it up and noticed the lock on the zips is gone, I very quickly reach flap factor 10. I'm convinced I'm being set up, so I make the walk back to customs, fully expecting to be spending the next 10 years in prison. I go up to the bloke who told me to get my bag and he just says sorry we made a mistake you can go and hands me back my passport and ticket. I nigh on ran out of the airport. I never found anything in my suitcase :(

I returned to England with a girl I met there, she was 17 bit young but I wasn't thinking straight (foreign beer and vodka.) We go though a passport check point, and start toward our gate, we pass a little desk, where a women says something in Finnish, the g/f replies in Finnish and uses the word Eng-landy-line (means English, and was something that she used a lot to describe me to anyone who spoke to me, and usually meant I wouldn’t have to talk to them) the women smiles at me and then says “can I have your passport please” I hand it over as does the g/f, Knowing the g/f will handle the rest of the chit chat I start looking round the airport, I turn back to the women who is giving me the most disgusting look, I thought what the fuck now, do I still have seal pup blood on the baseball bat I’m carrying, she hands them back to us, and away we go.
On the plane I ask the g/f why she looked at me like that, to which I get the reply, “she probably saw my age on my passport”
Me: “so”
G/F:”The age of consent in Finland is 18”
Me:”You fucking what!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I was shitting it big time now, fuck the flying I’m waiting for a crack squad of armed nutters to pile into the plane and give me a beating, luckily the rest of the flight was plane (excuse the pun) sailing
(lost at the beach, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 14:12, Reply)