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This is a question Airport Stories

Back when I was a moody teenager I took a cheap flight that involved changing planes and having to go through security again. My bags were pre-checked so, when I set off the metal detector, I honestly said to the security guy that I had no idea what had set it off.

Until, that is, he searched me and found the metal knife and fork stamped "KLM" I'd nicked off the previous flight.

Tell us your best airport stories.

(, Fri 3 Mar 2006, 10:09)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Nigerian Luck
I was out working in Nigeria a few years ago for a large unpopular oil firm and had some fun and games with planes and airports in general. Nothing massively exciting happened to me though but i read recently that a plane carrying 100 people crashed killing all on board shortly after take-off from Port Harcourt, my home from home for 6 weeks. Ulp!
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 21:46, Reply)
"terrorist" and his "son"????
(my story takes place a few months after the terrorist attack on the world trade center.)
my father and i were coming from the philippines to visit relatives in san francisco. it was late december and the weather was really cold (for us anyway since we came from a tropical country). once we got to the airport, my father wanted to put on his thermals. so he asked me to hold his bags while he went to the public restroom.
when he came out, two security guards/police men approached him and started questioning him. "where's the brown item you carried in with you?" he said that it was his thermals and that he was wearing them. he reached down to sorta lift his pants to show the guards. they got scared and reached for their guns, told him not to move.
i went over to my father, trying to help him out. one of the police men looked at me and asked my father, "is this your son?" "no, she's my daughter!" in my head, i was thinking, "omfg! what kind of a police are you if you can't distinguish between males and females????"
after all the explanations we gave (about the thermals and me being a girl), we still had to go to security guards' office. in the end, they had to apologize to us for making that mistake. but god, we wasted 2 hours because of their incompetence!!!
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 20:48, Reply)
Terra firmly
I haven't been on an aircraft since 1975 so all the cockups which have happened on my holidays have been of my own making . . . story of my life, really . . .

None of them have been funny enough to share . . . story of my life, really . . .

Pattern, anyone?
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 20:48, Reply)
Not the best place to keep keys...
A good friend of mine who shall remain nameless used to make frequent trips to Germany to shag this particularly attractive Russian bird that he had met on a business trip. Each time he went he would always take his 'away kit' which compromised various sex toys and some lingerie that he had bought for her. On one trip he was delayed on his way to the airport in the UK due to traffic congestion and on arrival had to be rushed through the check-in and security process.

On checking his hand-luggage, the attractive British Airways girl found a pair of handcuffs in his bag and proceeded, much to his embarrassment to get them out in front of about 200 people. She advised him that unless he had the keys with him to prove they could be unlocked, he wouldn't be able to take them on the aircraft. No problem he thought as he didn't want to lose them, but at that moment realised that to keep them safe he had put them in the empty battery compartment of a rather large vibrator!! The BA girls were loving it as he had to get it out along with all the other stuff!!!!

I wish I had been there!!
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 20:44, Reply)
International Terrorism
My ex's best friend was visiting his fiancee who lives in America. Said friend is very tall and was wearing long black leather trenchcoat, so of course is very...erm...recognisable. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by airport security, with guns, demanding to see his passport. Cue underwear = brown! Having slowly withdrawn said passport from pocket whilst keeping hands visible at all times wishing to avoid instant death, security guards took one look at the passport said "Sorry sir, wrong guy" and left the scene leaving friend in state of "Oh my God, what was that about???" and general shock.

It's lovely to see that they encourage the terrorising of visitors to their country!
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 20:29, Reply)
Hell,thy name is Orly.
There is no airport I have been in which is nastier or more frustrating than Orly. The one in Belize was cleaner and the one in Atlanta was easier to navigate.
I could trot out many a sorry tale of things that have gone wrong in that fluorescent-lit hellhole,but the simplest is my favourite:

We'd just returned from America on a pretty nice flight during which a friend had consumed too little water and too much Bailey's Irish Cream. She's getting greener by the second,but every loo seems to be either closed for 'cleaning'(right!) or full of fellow travellers looking grim-faced and unsympathetic to her plight.

Finally,she can hold out no longer. Like a delicate,vomit-filled fountain,said friend turned to the nearest potted plant and elegantly spewed in front of a huge crowd.

No one batted an eye.

Honestly,I think it made the place smell better. . .
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 20:08, Reply)
ibiza airport, couple of years ago.
in brief:
last day of trip, necked all remaining hash before getting coach to airport. spent an hour in the toilets passing out, being sick, passing out again, etc.
got it together just as we got to the front of the queue for check in.
passed out right at the front of the queue.
was wheeled to emergency wing with my mate wandering after me and getting lost.
spent 45 mins convincing woman i was fit to fly. was told to stay in wheelchair until i got to the gate. find mate, he pushes me to the gate via security.
get out of chair at gate.
security see me and drag me back to the security gate, threatening me with a bumming if i am taking the piss. (no-one had told them i could walk)
finally convince them, get on plane, land in london to full on ambulance and stretcher/crane thing waiting on exit of the plane.
legged it.
the end.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 19:38, Reply)
Ryanair, Barcelona to Luton, September 2005
On my way back from a weekend break with The Boyfriend to celebrate my degree results, our plane got taken over by a chav hen party.

I'll say that slowly so that it can sink in properly. CHAV....HEN....PARTY.

We first came across these ungodly creatures in the duty free shop - they were buying huge bottles of vodka and yelling at the checkout staff. The bride to be was one of the most hideous creatures I have ever seen. She basically looked as if she didn't eat, but smoked and drank instead. She was skeletally thin with peroxide hair, grey bags under her eyes and yellow teeth. She was sporting a large badge featuring a cock and balls which jutted out grotesquely from her chest, and which she periodically sucked suggestively, amidst much mirth from her companions, who were all wearing personalised vest tops, reading such hilariously alliterative names as "Cock-Sucking Carly". We decided immediately that we wanted to be as far away from them as possible when we got onto the plane, which we made sure of - unfortunately they changed their minds about where to sit and ended up right behind us. A man on the plane was obviously rather taken with them as he proceeded to flirt with all of them in the most disgusting manner imaginable. The bride to be had an absolutely repulsive laugh, which she let rip at full volume each time he propositioned her. During this interchange we also discovered that she had had sexual relations with several men of extremely poor taste whilst on the trip. The whole thing was just unbelievable - not in the most depraved underbelly of my imagination could I have envisaged the carnage.

Also on the plane were several Spaniards on their way to London, who were looking rather peturbed at their first glimpse of English culture. I hope things picked up for them after we arrived.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 19:20, Reply)
Another one.
A couple of years ago, I went on holiday with a group of mates. The group was mainly blokes, but two women were with us. One worked for the airline , and the other worked for a company that owned the airline.

One insisted on sitting by the window (so she could check the wings were still attached), and the other squeezed her boyfriend's hand so hard during take of and landing that he badly bruised it.

Scared? You could say I was.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 18:28, Reply)
Stewardess Smackdown
In the summer of 2000 I as travelling through Central and South America.

I took a cheap-as-chips internal flight from Peru to Brazil on TACA Merco Sur (South American equivilant of Aeroflot). It was a virtually empty flight and the plane an old turboprop that was way older than me (33). It was really turbulant and scary from the first 5 minutes of the flight, but then from the back of the plane we heard a load screaking. It was only the 4 drunk stewardesses haveing a scap! Apparently one had called another a rude word and a full on hair pulling and nail scratching ensued! It lasted about 5 minutes until the co-pilot piled down the back to calm things down.

I took cheaper-than-chips chicken buses for the rest of my journey - it scared (but also amused) the bejesus out of me!

On my flight home home I joined the mile high club (it's over-rated, cramped and smelly).
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 17:38, Reply)
Screaming kids
BA flight from Cologne to Heathrow with 18 month old twins.

Take off: Cue start screaming (kids that is)

Wheels touch down: Stop screaming - sleep

Door opens: Wake them up - start screaming again!

Note to fellow passengers: Very, very, very sorry.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 17:38, Reply)
Bit tame this.
My aunt used to live in Barbados.

I went out there (with my mum and sister) once. No problems with the flight, but when we got to Barbados airport, Customs decided to search my hand luggage by hand.

Cue one extremely embarassed 16 year old trying to explain why his hand luggage contained (as well as all the normal stuff, like books, walkman, washing gear and a change of clothes) , several cuddly toys, a pack of 500 anadin and a catering size tin of Heinz Baked Beans.

BTW, the cuddly toys were my sister's and the anadin and beans were for my aunt (apparently she could only get local brands for both).
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 16:54, Reply)
Couple of years back I had a run in with those mr big bollocks security guards.

I like to play a bit of tennis when im abroad usually with my sister so I packed our raquets in a suitcase and decided to put 2 balls in my handluggage as usually the pressure at high altitude fucks em up lots so its better to keep em in the cabin.

So right I get to the airport fine and I shove my bag on the x-ray machine and go through the scanner with no beeps, so imagine my surprise when one of the guards calls me over.

"Hi sir, did you pack this bag yourself"

"yes, why?"

"well it appears you have some items that could be considered dangerous on a plane, could you please empty your bag?"

so I did, and he pointed to the tennis balls and a bit of string.

"You see those, well you cant bring them onto the aircraft?"

"Why mate, you cant stab anyone with a tennis ball"

"No but you could put that bit of string into the tennis ball and swing it over your head as a weapon"

"you are having a laugh right?"

"no sorry sir we will have to confiscate these"

What kind of fucking terrorist takes over planes with a ball and string? I'm surprised they didnt ask me to chop off my fingers as I could use them to poke out the cabin crews eyes and swear at them.

Apologies for length, put a tennis ball with it though and it could be dangerous.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 16:19, Reply)
From Bacelona to Newcastle
Went for a 3 day city break with my mum as part of my birthday present just after christmas last year.
Barcelona airport is blooming huge!
Checked in at half 11 in the morning for the 1.30pm flight. We got lost, walking about 2 miles in the wrong direction to our gate but we were there nice and early as my mum has a bad leg and she wanted to get a good seat.
1 hour delay,2,3,4 hours and nothing. No one told us what was happening. Found out just before 7 that the plane had finally taken off and was on the way. Didnt get on the plane till 8.30pm ish.
Aparrently the plane was flying from Dublin to Newcastle to Barcelona. The snow in newcastle caused the people in dublin to be stuck in the plane for 3 hours before getting to NC.

All the food was gone, and most of the drink, and used sickbags were jotted about as they had no time to clean the plane. Nice
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 15:51, Reply)
EasyJet Eejit Club
It seems to me that with the rise in low-cost flights, the average IQ of passengers has dropped correspondingly.

On one flight (it didn't help that it was from Gatwick, charter flight and Chav central), queueing up in front of the big orange EasyJet sign with Mrs. Allotrope, the chap at the desk is asked "Any hand luggage?"

Whereupon he lifts up the industrial-strength mountain bike that was over to one side and hopefully proffers it.

Delay, confusion, upset. 15 minutes later the couple in front of us get the same question: "Any hand luggage?"

They lift up the baby carrier, containing a baby, and plonk it on the desk.

Delay, confusion, upset (again) for about 15 minutes.

On a different flight (and yes, I should have learnt by now) with the same airline, we're queueing up behind an old couple. They're asked whether there's anything potentially hazardous in the luggage.

"Oh yes!" says the elderly lass eagerly. "We bought a couple of cap-guns for our grandchildren as you can't get them in the UK anymore!"

Delay, confusion, you know the score.

In conclusion, even if the seats are cheap, I'll try to fly with virtually anyone else as I've got the fear that one of the EasyJet passengers will try to open the door mid-flight (or similar).
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 15:05, Reply)
I Work with a security company in Iraq, for security company read, a bunch of Mercenaries, all ex army spec ops etc so they have a pretty wild idea for wind ups. Of some that have happened whilst transiting through Baghdad airport to the outside world, are rounds ( bullets) stuck into somebody’s bags or coat jacket lining, explosives guns, grenades etc, but the best wind up is this one.
As you live in the same accommodation as 4 or 5 others you have access to each others kit. Easy thing to obtain is a sheet of card, then cut letters out from tinfoil spelling your message, slide this into the bottom section of a bag that will be scanned and the worlds your mollusc. X-ray messages stand out such as I HAVE DRUGS, BOMB IN BAG and such produce many a belly laugh, especially when your mate gets dragged to a police cell overnight and misses his flight out of this s***hole
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 13:30, Reply)
Ball & chain
My wife and I emigrated to Australia in 1988 and when we arrived at Brisbane airport we had to go through some thorough immigration checks.
The airport immigration officer asks me "Sir, do you have a criminal record?"
Without thinking I replied, "Sorry, I didn't realise you still needed one."

Story may be totally untrue.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 12:49, Reply)
Blackhawk Errm ...not quite down
A few years back i was working in Morocco, based in Casablanca....a mate of mine decided to come and visit me so i organise to pick her up at the airport when she flew in from West Africa.

Later that day i trot off to the airport to get my pal, plane turns up, everyone disembarks...no pal...i wait, another hour, then another...nothing. During this time i notice a rather english looking chap having great difficulty talking to the local chappies in nothing other than broad northern english...sadly doesnt translate too well into french. I decide to help.

Turns out he's can't find the guy who he was to meet at the airport, his phone has run out off batteries and he has the wrong phone number so i lend him my phone, sort out his phone number so he can ring the right person and even trotted around the airport and found his man (smoking fags out the back with all the other disgruntled drivers). Anyways, we chat...turns out he's working as a truck driver on this local flick called...ermm...Black Hawk Down (turns out it was filmed in Rabat).

Chap didnt even say thanks when he buggered off....

Anyways, i go home, having helped someone but sans friend.

I email her...a few days later she emails back - turns out when she got to the airport in Guinea (country next to sierra leone) that the local army ammo magazine had apparently blown up some 3km away (sabotage we heard) and had rained down exploding munitions onto the airport and airstrip (cue about 50 million calm africans to go bananas) anyway, they ended up grabbing their bags and high tailing it out of the airport!.

So that was sort of the end of the story...cept my pal also got mugged a few days later whilst on a separate holiday elsewhere because she couldnt fly out to see me....

Bizarre but true
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 12:10, Reply)
Friends reunited.... just.
A couple of years ago I met up with an old schoolfriend whom I hadn't seen for about 20 years. We got on great and arranged a weekend trip to Amsterdam. She lives oop north and I'm in London so I book the hotel and depart from Heathrow whilst she leaves from Newcastle two hours later.

When I got to Heathrow KLM informed me there was bad weather over Schipol so the flight would be delayed. 40mins later the board suddenly announces last call for my flight. Shit! I hadn't even gone through Security and there was a huge line of people waiting to be processed. So I stand in line until I suddenly hear my name being called over the PA system. The plane was waiting for ME! So I ran to the front of the queue, apologising as I went and walked through the sensor... which bleeped. OK, remove everything metal, go through again...BLEEP. "Could you step to one side sir?" Oh fuck. Finally convince them I'm not carrying a weapon and run onto one of those moving walkways which whisks me straight past the gate where my plane is. By the time I had run all the way back I was so breathless I couldn't speak. The guy at the door to the plane just looked at me and said "Mr. Don'ttouchme! I presume."

Cut to Schipol. I settled down to get some serious booze in me until my friend arrived 2 hours later. Except she didn't. So I waited for the next flight from Newcastle. She's not on that either. In the end I spent 6 hours waiting for her and eventually decided I had been spectacularly stood up. I mean... letting me go to another country to do that is a bit extreme.

So I give up and tootle off to the hotel to console myself with large amounts of dope. At 11:30pm I get a call from her saying she is in the lobby so I go down to meet her. It turns out she had driven to the airport leaving little time pre-flight. When she got there she realised she had left her tickets at home so drove like a loon back there. More speeding back to the airport where she is clocked by plod and given a speeding fine. She missed her flight but got the next one. On arrival at Schipol she got lost the moment she left the plane and ended up exiting via the wrong departure gate. This explains why I didn't see her as I was at the correct one. Rather than wander round looking for me she decides that staying in one place will make it easier for me to find her. Except thats exactly what I was doing too. She decides to go to the hotel after a while and suddenly realises she doesn't know which one we were booked in. So she has to call her sister to break in to her house and get the email I had sent to her telling her all the details. She then goes to the rail link at the airport and gets on the wrong train!

We did, however, have a great time. But to add insult to injury her flight home was diverted due to technical problems and she ended up in Paris :-)
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 11:46, Reply)
One of many
My family now all live in the States (leaving me here on my lonesome), and we used to live in Japan, so over the course of my life I've flown many many times. Usually, something goes tits up to some degree on about every third trip. So there are plenty of stories.

The most recent, however, was me going to visit them over the summer. Get into a taxi quite early in the morning to take me to Heathrow. No problem. Check in, no problem. Arrive in departure area and decide to eat a full English breakfast, again, no problem. Usual hurdles are being overcome, so I feel great.

Get a text from a friend asking if I'm okay. Kind of weird (my friends surely don't care that much about me?) so I text back and say I am. Then I get another, from a different friend. And another. Five separate texts, the last one of which tells me that London is being bombed. 'WTF?' I think (in abbreviated netspeak, obviously). Walk calmly over to the O'Neills, where the tv is on, but no-one's watching. Oh look. There's a blown out bus. Hang on, that's a london bus...

Yes, it was the 7th July 2005. I had been in a taxi leaving London while the explosions had gone off.

Other people in the pub see me watching the tv and start to look at it as well. Mass confusion begins.

As it happens, all trouble was avoided. My plane left only a half hour late (filled with US high school students whose accompanying teachers were practically wetting themselves, poor dears). In fact, at the gate they had the foresight to put a tv, so mere seconds before boarding we were all sitting around watching the aftermath of a terrorist attack.

Though, afterward, in California, whenever people heard I'd come from London, I got sympathetic looks, hugs, and sometimes even free stuff.

Wow, sorry. That was quite long. Apologies for [insert penis joke]
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 10:39, Reply)
Hi, I fly a lot! Over 100 flights in 2005, mainly in Europe and including commercial jets, private jets, props & helicopters. My usual trip is from London City to Copenhagen as I work in London but live with my family in Sweden, just a short train trip from CPH airport.

Anyway, this particular Friday was a pretty important flight home, I was scheduled to pick up our wedding rings on Saturday from Malmo, and being Sweden the shops shut at lunchtime meaning there was no room for missing this flight and catching another the following morning. I got to the airport well in time feeling rather pleased with myself and walked up to the check-in only to realise I had not brought my wallet. Not usually an issue, as I could use my passport to check in and had enough cash in my pocket for anything else I might need,, except of course my rings. doh!

I called my flatmate and asked if he could help, and he promised to be out the door in seconds, which would be OK as it is only a 40 minute trip and I still had time. I handed my passport to the check-in clerk, who after a few minutes banging the keyboard explained that I was not on the flight. Slightly confused I headed towards the ticket desk where my problem could be addressed. There were 2 people ahead of me, so I got out my laptop and looked from my e-ticket confirmation. Easily located it became apparant that I was in trouble. I had booked myself not on the 18.00 from London City, but on the 14.05 from Heathrow. doh! So I am at City airport, desperately needing to get to Copenhagen on a flight for which I had no ticket and with no credit cards or my gold Eurobonus card to establish me as a top customer.

I approached the desk tentatively and said 'I really need some help'. No problem said the nice German Lufthansa ticket lady. I lied and said that my secretary had made a mistake booking my flight, and as I was a gold-card holder (with no card as proof) could she help me. Pah she said, this is SAS fault, their website is too confusing, this is the second problem with incorrect airports I have had this week. I mentioned that I had no money, but she said this was no problem. She upgraded my bucket seat from Heathrow to flex-economy (which meant I got fed), and transferred it over to the flight from City. I was on the flight and my flatmate turned up just after I had checked in with my wallet. Moral of the story..

1. Lie (not sure this was necessary, but..)
2. When you have screwed up, be polite and apologetic and grateful
3. Even if you haven't screwed up, behaviour towards those who can help often leads to an increase in their desire to do so.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 10:23, Reply)
fer christ sake its just Canada!
I live in Michigan here in the States and for us Michiganders crossing into canada is pretty common and easy, no passport required. Nearly everytime I go to Detroit I head over to windsor for a little a fun, the strip clubs there are the best! Well a few years ago I got an opportunity to head to Vancouver to train a customer on some software. I was elated, I ski and knew I would be able to tack a little ski trip to Whistler/Blackcomb at the end of my trip. Imagine my surprise when I arrived for my flight and was told soundly by the ticketing agent I would need either a passport or a birth certificate to get on the plane! I was pissed I told the bitch I had never needed anything more than my american drivers license to cross before [even after 911] and she promptly and loudly told me I had obviously never flown to Canada before [bitch]. I was flabbergasted the ticket made no mention of this and proceeded to bark at an array of officials bout how crap this was and how Canada was like the fucking 51st state which in no way helped my situation. So now i had to get my birth certificate [a call to folks who were an 1.5 hrs away and weren't sure where it was], make arraingments for another flight, as well as call my boss and the customer to explan what doushe I was. Northwest couldn't get me out there till the next day and the bastards made me change planes at every major airport west of chicago. The flight took forever! I was pissed, but once I got there the customers were really cool. they got me hammered everyday well before 5:00 quiting time and even got me pretty stoned . I was feeling pretty good untill the following occured. While i was out there my idiot government decided to invade Iraq, which was arguably worse for the Iraqis than it was for me. I was very concerned though, when on every canadian newscast I saw they were warnng people not to even attempt to cross over into the states without a passport, that Birth certificates were no longer being accepted by the american's as proof of citzenry. SHIT! Well, I was really drinking and smoking quite a bit too much cause I didn't realise all those Canadian newscasts were, you know, kinda targeted at Canadians? heheh- I guess i was suffering from being a bit too paranoid and an American.

Everything worked out in the end, I made it through customs back into the states, but more importantly was able to get to Whistler for a very edited ski trip, I was there literally 36 hours. Whilst there though, I hooked up with some blokes from Manchester working at a terrfic bar, and we in turn picked up some girls from seatle partying up there. It was one helluva evening, even managed to get pulled over by a Mountie with 11 people in my rental Ford explorer all of whom were wasted except the one married girl in the group whom was too goody goody to 'party' with the rest of us, I had told her to drive in some well timed lapse of insanity. I was shotgun and handed the Mountie all the info that avis had put in the glove box and promptly told him we were all drunk but the girl drivingwas indeed sober. He looked at the papers, then at us, and said with a big smile "Just checking you out, looks good, be safe!" We of course had been driving to get more product from the residence of the girls and the Brittons I was with and were on the way back to my hotel room. It was a fun evening.


I love canada
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 10:20, Reply)
I have vague memories
Of my first time on a plane, flying to Washington Dulles with all the family, at age 5. On the descent I got airsick and heartily puked into my grandmother's lap :)
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 10:11, Reply)
A couple of years back I was invited to a friend's stag party in Prague. Plan was that we'd drive over from Merseyside on a Friday to East Midlands airport and get an EasyJet flight from there.

Problem was that I was in the process of moving into my first house with my girlfriend. She wasn't happy about the extra cost. In the end, I checked on the EasyJet web site and found that I could change the tickets from the Friday to the Saturday, shortening my stay and saving some money. It would cost about £5 to change the ticket date.

No problem, discuss it with everyone, go to change the ticket dates and find it's now £30. Twunts, I think and pay the £30 anyway. Easyjet is a ticketless airline for those who don't know, so I scribble down the booking number and turn up at the airport on the Saturday.

For some naive reason, I turned up about 30 minutes before the flight left. I'm not sure of my own logic but I thought that as it was EasyJet and I only had hand luggage I'd be okay. This is made worse by me not being able to find the Easyjet check-in. If you've ever been to East Midlands airport you'll know this is a pretty hard thing to miss as the Easyjet check in is one wall and is painted bright orange.

The check-in desk lady looks at my number and says she has no record of me being on that flight. After various checks and being sent over to the Easyjet helpdesk, it turns out my ticket was booked for the previous Saturday and I was down as a 'no-show'.

I have to phone my friend and tell him that I've now missed the plane, they wouldn't let me on it anyway and the next flight isn't until late that night and it's not worth me paying that money for about 14 hours in Prague.

I blame EasyJet, how could an experienced programmer and web monkey like myself get the dates wrong when changing details like that? However, the more I've thought about it since I realise that I must have put the wrong (earlier) date in when I changed dates, hence the cost going from £5 to £30. Muppet...

I missed the next stag weekend I was due to go on because of a death in the family, no complaints there. The next stag weekend is my own and I'm hoping to make it 3rd time lucky...
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 8:26, Reply)
last time I flew was in January 2004. I was going from my American snow-belt town to Florida.
Just before boarding the plane for the first leg of the trip down, an announcement was made for everyone on that flight to use the restrooms in the airport if they needed to, because the lavatory on the plane was not working due to freezing conditions.

This was alarming, not so much for the bathroom being unavailable, as for the wondering that if the plane's crapper was broken, what else might be?

Fortunately, the flight went ok and I never needed to relieve myself during the flight.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 4:03, Reply)
Watch your step in Perpignan airport.
A few years back, a mate and I did a nice bicycle tour through France and Spain. We then hired a car to get back to Paris. So what's this got to do with airports? Well, as it turned out, for some reason we couldn't drive the same car from Barcelona to Paris - we had to drop the car off in Perpignan (on the border of Spain and France) and swap it for another one. And the car hire place in Perpignan was at the airport. (strangely enough, the car from Barcelona to Perpignan had French plates, and the one from Perpignan to Paris had Spanish plates...)

Anyway, we arrived at Perpignan airport early in the morning to swap cars. At the car hire desk an American woman was having a loud argument with the car hire bloke because she had lost her voucher and for some strange reason he wasn't prepared to give her a car without either a voucher or a credit card to pay for it. We got the sense that this argument was going to last a while, and we weren't in a hurry, so we went to grab a coffee and wait.

Whilst waiting, I reflected on one of the things I had learned while living in France: the French love dogs. Sitting in this small airport we were amused by the number of people who had obivously brought their dogs along to greet their relatives arriving on flights. Or to have their dogs wave goodbye as they left. Or maybe they just chose to walk their dogs inside the airport. I don't know. However, there seemed to be heaps of them in there (all on leads at least!). I thought this was weird and funny because I couldn't remember having seen a dog in an airport before - except for those a) drug sniffing dogs in most places and b) fruit sniffing dogs in Australia (fact!).

But what makes this story worth typing is what happened next. An elegantly dressed older woman with some labrador sized mutt walked past, and the mutt stopped, arched it's back, strained a bit with that distant look in it's eye that dogs get, and curled out an enormous turd. Right there on the shiny airport floor. Right in amongst the growing crowds of people walking to and from their flights. Sitting there drinking coffee not 10 metres away, we were gobsmacked. And then she just left. Walked on to meet her family or whoever, and left the dog's steaming log lying there like a soft brown landmine.

We giggled like loons at the craziness of this while people kept walking past - most carefully looking the other way, and those with dogs (which of course had to have a sniff) dragging their dogs past. No-one appeared to be shocked, and no-one came to clean it up. There were lots of near misses, and we watched with delicious anticipation for a few minutes, until the inevitable happened: a bloke stepped into it, had a bit of a slide, recovered, and then proceeded to stomp pooey footsteps all through the airport. We gave a little cheer.

Finally, a couple of maintenance guys turned up, and put up some plastic barriers around the turd: like at some road works. They didn't clean it up: just marked it off so no-one else would stand in it. And the best part was the lack of surprise, or even disgust, with which they did this: like it was an every day occurrence in Perpignan airport.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 4:01, Reply)
No ticket.
After road tripping the US and Canada for a while, I decided that it was time to go back to Blighty. Thing was, I’d lost my Virgin Atlantic ticket from JFK to London. Both me and my folks at home spent many a long a weary hour on the phone trying to organise a replacement ticket from both ends of the Atlantic. No dice say bransons’ lot - I’d have to buy a new ticket, and get a refund for the old one. Fair enough, but I didn’t have the £1000 to get a new ticket.

Next best thing, get a cheap flight using a cheaper airline. Cheapest available? Pakistani international airlines.

By the time this lot get organised my visa has run out, so I’m now overstaying my welcome in the US. (If US immigration are reading, I’m making this part up) So, 2 weeks after my visa has run out, I turn up at JFK to board my PIA flight, this time to Manchester. I’m ok with that, I happen to live in Manchester with my girlfriend, so its all good. This ticket was bought online, an ‘e-ticket’ if you will, something flyers with easy jet are familiar with. During queuing, and feeling the whitest I’ve felt in my life, a little Pakistani lady comes up to me asking me to carry several items onto the plane for her. That’ll be a no then. She looks like I’ve slapped her in the face. So I get to the desk, the man asks for my ticket. “I’ve got an e-ticket!” say I. “I don’t know no e-ticket”. Bollocks.
Can you look me up? No. Piss off. You don’t have a ticket. Desk closes, plane takes off.


So, I’m in new york, with approx. $4.00 in my trousers and no way to get home, and in the country illegally. Goody! With nothing much else to do I decide to lag all my kit over to the virgin desk in another terminal to see if I can blag it.

I find it and talk to a girl called Lisa (I’ll never forget her, I swear) who after hearing my story looks at me and hand writes me a ticket (hand writes!) a ticket to London for me. And the fee? “It leaves in 30 minutes, run”

Honestly, I had tears in my eyes. I told her I loved her very loudly and ran.

The man at the checking didn’t look at my visa date, and I found my seat – the last empty one, right at the back – and flew to London.

I’d had 4 hours sleep in the past 3 days by this stage (good old road trips) so I was a little messed up. After 8 hours in a national express coach to Manchester I wasn’t feeling any better. My girlfriend meets my at the station to inform me she wants to break up. Oh ffs…

Next day I wake up to find the twin towers have been hit. Yes, I’d managed to escape New York on September the 10th 2001.

Next year, I went to China, feeling that I'd had an unfair advantage in the U.S. by speaking the same language.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 3:59, Reply)
More aeroplane than airport, but still noteworthy.
When I was about three years old, I was on a flight to a certain very far away place which I'm not going to name, as I've already given away far too many clues to my identity, & this one would really cinch it.

Although I will say that the flight time was about twenty hours.

About four hours into this flight, & I feel the need to take a leak, & amble off towards the karzi. Upon opening the door & lifting up the seat, I'm confronted by that sort of roaring whooshing noise that you get in plane bogs sometimes.

Being three years old, I logically conclude that there must be some sort of monster living in the john, & run back to my seat as fast as my little legs can carry me.

Twenty hours. Without a piss. Wonder I didn't drown in it really.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 3:59, Reply)
Protokitten & the Coffee of Doom.
Last time I flew was an absolute nightmare.

A friend & I were taking what should have been a quick internal flight from a very small provincial airport.

So we arrive at the airport & check in about an hour before our flight is due. We'd decided against buying any cigarettes at the newsagent's in the check in area, as we thought they'd most likely be hugely expensive, & we had a small supply with us.

Suffice to say, upon getting through the check in (after a thankfully not-too-intimate search of my mate), we were less than amused to discover our plane had been delayed by an hour, & even less amused to find the only thing in the waiting area besides a small duty-free shop was a solitary Starbucks.

And a tiny smoking area, located as far from the Starbucks as humanly possible, so that we spent our time alternately drinking a cup of coffee& walking all the way down to the smoking area for a fag as the delay to the flight kept getting longer.

Eventually the inevitable happened, & we ran out of cigarettes, only to discover there was nowhere to get anymore. It was about this time we were issued with vouchers for the Starbucks, as the delay to the flight had gone from "annoying" to "ridiculous".

Being a little pissed off, we were determined to get our full money's worth, & duly headed off to top up the already heroic amount of caffiene we'd injested.

I remember ordering a redbull for the plane journey, & an extra large coffee, & then spending the rest of the voucher adding an unfeasable amount of espresso shots to it, whilst my friend did something similarly daft.

The effect was rather akin to having snorted a large quanity of amphetamines.

Made for a rather interesting plane journey. "Ooh look! Clouds! And more clouds!" could probably be clearly heard by the rest of the passengers for most of the trip.
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 3:32, Reply)
Paris Charles de Fuckwits
OK, I have a bit of a hate/hate relationship with Air France and Paris CDG airport. I have never had any problem with the French, but something about that place and airline... anyways.

I had to travel to the US, from Edinburgh, and the company booke me on a flight via Paris CDG. My flight landed 5 minutes late at CDG, and the process of transferring at that airport took a further 30 minutes (its such a fucking stupid layout for an airport, you have to bus EVERYWHERE). When I turned up for my transatlantic flight, with 5 minutes to spare, I could see the plane, but they weren't letting anyone on. Aparently they close the flight 20 minutes before the posted time. So I and a number of other disgruntled passengers had to make our way to the customer (lack of)help desk, to find out what to do next. Turned out, that the next flight I could get wasn't for another 6 hours.
When the 6 hours finally passed, I got on the airplane, and the Video system went down on the 777 (quite a common occurence) for most of the passengers, and I spent 8 hours in flight bored out of my fucking skull!

Oh, you thought that was the end didn't you? OH NO!

I landed at JFK, at was supposed to be flying on to Denver that night. As I was 6 hours behind schedule, I had completely missed that flight. To make matters worse, my company had booked the flights on two separate tickets, so I couldn't do anything about that flight. So I had to get a hotel that night, and take a flight out of LaGuardia the next morning.

Oh I am still not done...

When I went to get my luggage at JFK after landing, I was greeted by some helpful fuckwit of AirFrance, who said that my bags didn't make the flight (they had 6 hours to get my bags over for fucks sake!!!!), and that they were inbound the next morning. So here I go to the AirFrance (lack of)help desk in JFK, finding out where the bags where, and when I can get them. They tell me that the bags will arrive at 10am the following day, at JFK. Trouble was, I was flying out of LaGuardia at 8am. So they decided that they'd FedEx my bags over to me in Denver.

All in all, I went 3 and a half days without my bags, had to attend a couple of business meetings in the same f'ing clothes, bar an AirFrance Tee-Shirt, and had an awful time with it.

And finally with Air France. Another time after this, my company made the mistake of booking me with AirFrance again (they don't make this mistake anymore). When flying from JFK to Paris, we came into Northern France, and you couldn't see the ground for the thickest fog you'll ever see. The pilot came into land, and couldn't see the runway, and went around for another try. The next time around, we still couldn't see the runway, but the captain went for it anyway. The problem is, if you cannot see both ends of the runway, you cannot assure that the runway is clear of any planes, and you can't land. But no, our pilot decided to play God with the lives of all 300 of us on the plane. Having been a pilot in a previous life, I KNEW how dangerous this was and was fucking LIVID!!!

To sum up. NEVER FLY AIR FRANCE. EVER!!!!!!!!! They are the cheapest for a reason, they are fucking USELESS.


Apologies for length/swearing/providing the truth about Air France (actualy forget the last one!)
(, Sun 5 Mar 2006, 3:19, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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