One screw changed my flight...
And not necessarily for the better...

While I’m deeply, deeply mistrusting when it comes to air travel, I am also still very excited by it. However, I am also very, very naive. I had thought, in the more innocent days of 1997, that the turbo-prop engine had all-but disappeared from the world of aviation. Sure, solo flying enthusiasts up and down the country were regularly buzzing about in their single-engine steeds, but for us mere plebs who had to rely on chartered carriers; it was jet engines all the way.

For some reason, I’d decided to fly to Denmark that summer. Usually, I’d have got the ferry from Harwich straight to Esbjerg, or if I flew I’d fly straight in to Jutland. On the day I wanted to go, however, there were no direct flights, so I had to go via Amsterdam.

After a relaxing two hour stopover, I toddled over the tarmac toward the awaiting ‘plane. I let out a small, nervous giggle as I approached. There was a large patch on the side that had been covered over with gaffer tape. The bright blue KLM livery of the other ‘planes was, on this one, faded – reminiscent of greater days traversing the sky. And, on each wing, sat an engine sprouting four propellers – unloved and uncared for.

In truth, the ‘plane I was looking at would have had a certain amount of shabby charm had I not been about to entrust my life to it.

I boarded the ‘plane, and quickly began to feel like a rockstar. Of its 12 seats, precisely one was taken up. By me. The total person count on the ‘plane was 5 – Pilot, Co-Pilot, 2 stewardesses, and me. The pilot dispensed with such niceties as telling me what was happening over the intercom, he just yelled it over his shoulder in what appeared to be a half crazed, half stoned Dutch accent. Revving the engine, he directed the ‘plane towards the runway where, with much strain and noise, we departed Amsterdam Schipol and headed for Aarhus.

Having the pick of all the seats, I chose to on a window seat next to the wing. Here, I had prime cloud-gazing opportunity, and the view through the cockpit window wasn’t bad either. Half an hour in to the flight, the stewardess has given me a hob nob (no, not like that), and we’re all going along marvellously.

Until I look out of the window. One of the rivets in the engine was coming loose. Not just loose, coming out. There’s another hour til we land and, by my calculation, another half an inch of screw to go. In short, the plane is going to fall out of the sky and we’re all going to die.

So what did I do? Did I tell someone? Did I make both stewardesses an offer they couldn’t refuse for their dying moments? Did I call someone to register my final words? Maybe I wrote something down to be found in the crash?

No. I sat, and stared transfixed at the screw for the rest of the flight. Which, as you may be able to guess, ended uspectacularly and entirely without incident. I eventually disembarked an hour later; pale, shaky and terrified I’d have to get the same ‘plane on the way back.

Which, of course, I did.

And that’s how a screw changed my ‘plane journey...
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 17:37, 3 replies)

Oh.my.god
reminds me of the bad old days on Dan Dare planes. They looked like they flapped their wings to take off. In fact, I'm sure the one we were on was a reconditioned WW2 bomber ...
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Tue 3 Jun 2008, 18:24, closed)

I've flown
from Copenhagen to Aalborg in a turboprop. There was no real check in, no security. There were 3 of us on the flight, the stewardess said we could make our own coffee if we wanted.

It pissed down for the entire journey. We landed at 90 degrees to the direction we should have been pointing in. I cried.

*feels your pain*
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 18:36, closed)

I remember flying to Shetland a good while back
on a Saab 340. They still use them to fly there, annoyingly.

Anyway, the week before, one had crashed in Amsterdam. The in-flight magazine had the usual thing about the number of aircraft, and of course the Saab was listed.

The magazine had in it the number of 340s in service worldwide. Cue me getting out the biro, scoring out the figure and writing in the now correct number.

Sick? Why else am I on b3ta?
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 20:04, closed)