What’s the worst travel experience you’ve ever had?
I have had the good fortune to travel quite a bit in my life. Coincidentally, I am traveling today, returning home after a sojourn south of the border and hanging out in the OC. (Shout-out to Knott’s for a great coaster experience!)
I have had my share of dreadful and or mortifying moments while on the road. Some I console myself with thought that my faux pas is someone’s amusing anecdote. Others may be my own, even at my expense. Moments forever etched into my personal lore.
My My first international trip started inauspiciously. We were to connect flights to Milan at JFK. High winds and a tornado warning in Queens grounded us in Rochester. For hours. On the tarmac, trapped. Trapped. After they grudgingly let us off and we gratefully relieved ourselves, our trip resumed. We reached NYC well after midnight, and our flight was long gone.
The gears of the finely tuned dance of connecting flights and airports ground to a halt. Suddenly, I was that poor soul that was desperately trying to reach someplace that you can’t get to from here.
I had been delayed before. Once, a thunderstorm in Vegas closed Harry Reid, a flash flood swamping the runways. I thought that was bad, waiting in a line for a dwindling number of rental cars.
Hold on, I’m on the run to John Wayne. See you at Gate A3
As an aside, I am in the backseat sailing down a toll road. Are we creating a new class strata? Private roads for people to be further cocooned from the rest of us rabble?
Made it through the TSA. Got randomed at the gate. Yay, extra pat-down. John Wayne is always fun. Children, exhausted from a week in fantasy lands, draped grumpily over the rows of seats not designed for comfort.
I hate to say this, but thank god for iPads.
Let’s get back to my tale. We had long since missed our flight over the Atlantic and were stranded at JFK, our choices were poor. The soonest they could get us was nearly 48 hours later.
Uh oh. Toddler meltdown. Imagine a week of overstimulation, hauled to a place where everyone is a little on edge, then stuffed in a metal tube? Of course, it’s too much for the little dudes.
Hey, to all of you getting grumpy over the tiny kid crying. Headphones. Noise canceling. There are many nice ones that are quite affordable. If you travel without them, well that’s on you. Speaking of which, if there is stuff you think you must have on a trip, keep it close.
There is a lot of good advice for traveling from transit point to point. Mine is, always have a light jacket or flannel shirt with you. Yes, a pain going through checkpoints, but planes and airports can be chilly, and you never know what weather might greet you.
I planned for my first international flight similarly. Down to a spare tee. Today, I travel with a vacuum-sealed and compressed bag filled with a change of clothes when I check my bag (which is most of the time).
I have never flown without music, and probably never will. You can have a manageable level of dissociation locked in on your own soundtrack. I am seated on the midday flight home, the tube slowly filling, me judging carry-on and whether it will fit. Diane and I forgo taking up overhead space on crowded flights (which is every flight out of Orange County) Diane is aching and has to take up needed leg space with her own bag because of it.
Getting back to the story. It’s one in the morning. We have been informed our bags are magically on the way to Italy without us. Not wanting to be separated from our luggage, we finagled a flight to Atlanta to catch an earlier flight to Milan.
After spending 12 hours in the quite expansive Hartsfield-Jackson airport (all I have ever seen of Atlanta), we scored a first-class upgrade. There was a catch.
You know what is amazing? I am writing this blog post from my phone, at 545 mph/877 kph and 33k ft/10k meters. I am able to save my drafts to the cloud, images and all. Back in 2007 I traveled with a laptop and a phone and an international calling card.
Back then, no internet access was free in Europe. I used a patchwork of codes, telcos, and sketchy networks to get the word out. Starting the landing process. Be right back. Going to navigate the B gates to A gates at SLC. If you know, you know. Yes, I do walk it.
There is something about your home airport. You may still be a few hours from the city, but you are almost there! Now to get the car and head home. It’s just over those mountains. (Diane has had a horrible trip. Her knee has gone out and it is still a long way for her)
Home
I made it home and I can finish my story. We had first-class seats, but we were seated separately. Trying to get the seat next to me, the guy didn’t want to move and he was quite firm. Thirty-six hours of inconvenience, frustration, exasperation, and sleep deprivation overflowed.
Diane begged tearfully for him to let her sit there and he continued to refuse. I, of course, was in full-blown dissociating mode. The guy finally relented, condescendingly giving up his seat.
At last settled and on the way, Diane fell asleep and did you know they have hot fudge sundaes in first class? We cleared customs and were escorted to what felt like a Quonset hut filled with lonely luggage missing other owners on missed flights. The bus into town had left twenty-four hours earlier, but we were finally reunited with our luggage.
Euros be damned, we found a taxi and after some lost in translation negotiating we fell asleep in the cab intyo the city. The dude could have taken us anywhere, dumped us anywhere. But he took us too the right place, and thankfully the front desk understood us.
We had made it. It was even in time for our tour to see ‘The Last Supper,’ which we missed anyway and slept until the next morning, late even for breakfast. By that afternoon, we were in Switzerland at Lake Lugano and on to even the larger waters around Venice and the freshest calamari I have ever had on the island of Burano, tasting like it had been dipped from the Adriatic that very morning.
The travel gods had conspired to ruin our trip at the start, every transfer one moment friction after another. Then the trip was one of the best of my life. It was romantic and green and flowery. As bad as the start remains in my mind, the rest of it was wonderful. And if you like to eat, it’s pretty hard not to fall in love with Italy.
Today the travel gods didn’t even whisper to us. Other than my poor love having to navigate two airports with a knee that she could barely walk on, we have made it home from our latest trip.
Maybe that is part of the mystique of travel. Those moments that are special, painted with magical light in our memories. You put up with the friction for the destination. And if you accept that, you know, sometimes it’s going to happen, it won’t be so terrible. So may your bad travel experiences be coupled with good ones.
Leave a Reply