| Okay. Here's the deal. I'm buried in edits (I managed to get myself a CEM and content edits on two separate books at the same time. I'm lucky like that.) I have some brand spanking new copies of Pure Blood to give away, so I will assuage my guilt over not posting properly by handing out free shit. But I'm gonna make you work for it. Everyone knows that misery loves company, so go read my tale of airline woe, come back and give me your worst travel story ever. I will reward the winner with books! So simple, so elegant. |
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ok first off, i was going to book ua air for rt...now u're making me rethink it! Lol. ok, so it was a toss up between 2 but..my worst travel story happened in grand cayman islands. We were on a cruise and i had gone off to swim with stingrays and my parents were at a hotel beach. So i meet them there and we decide to get a taxi back to the peir.
Now the way the taxi's there work is they have these vans and the cabbies like to have a full load before they move. So we get in and the guy tells us that it's six dollars per person. Well the cruise people had said it was four so my parents said thats what they would pay. The guy gave us crap but agreed and because there were like six other people in the cab by that point, they wanted that rate too.
So he's pissed at this point but o well. We start driving and the guy suddenly goes "I have a goal in live. It's to drive backwards" and the guy TURNS AROUND WHILE DRIVING. FOR LIKE 10 SECONDS. Everyone in the cab was like WTF DUDE!! So then he says we're going to pray to Jesus. First off, I'm a Jew..second off...who does that!?
So he starts praying and everyone in the cab is like mumbling it. He stops us and goes, you can pretend for me but HE knows. And then he starts again and it's about when you die going to heaven and we were like, omg he's getting us ready to die. He's going to kill us.
So finally like two blocks from the peir, he pulls over, we all get out, and we're like, um not where we wanted to go. and the guy says "that's what you get for four dollars"
Needless to say i will NEVER EVER get in a taxi in the cayman islands again. lol thats it :)
This was not anyone's fault, not really, but here is my tale of woe.
My Dad and I were visiting some cousins, one state north, at their KOA campground. Great fun, but I had to be back at summer school on Monday. No problem. Except Dad's car dies Sunday afternoon as we're about to leave.
Cousin calls the bus terminal in the nearest town and finds out that there's a bus leaving for my town in 30 minutes. Um, town is 30 minutes away.
We hop into his truck and take off. We arrive at the Greyhound terminal just after my bus leaves. So we literally chase down the highway, finally catching up to it just as it reaches the next town.
Dad buys me a ticket & my 17-year-old self rode the few hours home. Did I mention that my Mom was working nights and could not meet the bus when it arrived at 2 am?
Luckily, one of my mom's friends could meet me so I didn't have to wait for hours, in the bus terminal, for someone to come get me.
see here. lol.
http://macbeaner.livejournal.com/208298.html
but I think the dying in a taxi story is pretty good... wow. crazy people.
Ok.. my horror start last memorial day... heading to LA for a wedding. I arrive at JFK 2 hours early - proceed to check in with Delta airlines. I than go through security and I am thinking to myself - wow this is pretty smooth. I should have known this was an omen.
I arrive at the gate and my friends and I find out we are delayed 30 mins..okay this is pretty good for JFK.
We finally get on our fllight. Airplane boarded door shuts but we don't move. About 45 mins and the pilot gets on to tell us that due to the 30 min delay and air traffic the the co-pilot will have exceed his time. So our non-stop flight will have a llittle tiny connection in Salt Lake to drop him off and pick up another one. ( we just have to sit there for a couple of mins for the paper work) Another hour goes by, the pilot comes back on saying that the paper work delay has tacked enough time on that we will have to do our switch in Atlanta. We just have to wait for the paper work. Another 45 minutes or so we get some more good news... no paper work yet and the co-pilot can't even do the flight to Atlanta. At this time we have been on the plane for over 3 hours and our flight was only 6 hours. We were all getting cranky since it was 9 p.m.
There solution is that we have to wait until another flight crew lands in 3 hours and they will be able to take us. It took them another hour to decide that we could get off the plane for a break.
We finally got our flight crew at the dame time we were suppose to land in Los Angeles... and all we got for it was a soda and crackers.
let me start off by saying. I am scared of heights, and I love Ativan.
I went to RT this year. Loved it.
Had to fly from Winnipeg to Toronto- purchased a really comfortable pair of boots. They were 'patted down' by security \(I did not have to take them off for Canadian security - ended up doing it for ease of travel). They received more action from every security team in 4 airports than I have for the previous 6 months. -Then I managed to get onto a flight with only a minor panic attack. Flew from Winnipeg to Toronto - hit 'bubbles' 3 times. Was so happy to get to Toronto - think the pilot forgot what the wheels under the plane were for - very rough - non height problematic people/seasoned travellers were crossing themselves. Made it to Toronto - they were unable to unload our luggage for 45 minutes, unloaded it, sent it to a different pickup area, then we missed our connecting flight. caught next flight - 3 hours later - said flight was a PROPELLER plane. Did I mention I am scared of heights-. Was put next to a teenage boy moving from Israel to the States with attention deficit disorder - he kept pointing out the window and I kept having panic attacks - in a thunderstorm - he kept dropping/playing with his rubiks cube - and blowing bubbles that kept making me jump - just a little tense. almost kissed the ground in Pittsburgh.
My actual travel is usually very good. I just have problems with my luggage.
Case 1 (2003): They opened a new terminal in Detroit. It was lovely! It was well designed and easy to navigate! It was new, so, of course, it lost my luggage before I reached BWI. Northwest spent two days driving across Maryland (because I stayed in DC one night and then went down to the Eastern Shore) trying to catch up to me to get me my bags.
Case 2 (2007): We arrive in Istanbul, a whole study tour of us, and have almost all of the bags--except one of mine. This is the bag that has the walkie talkies in it, which allows the students to go off in small groups. Guess you're staying with the chaperones, kids! (The bag arrived the next day.)
Case 3 (2008): Again, in Istanbul, but this time, *none* of the luggage has arrived. This is probably due to Heathrow's infamous Terminal 5, where we spent our layover. The first batch of luggage arrives that night. Half of the students now have their luggage, clothing, and homework. I'm in the half without. The second batch of luggage arrives the next day, in the late afternoon. All of the students now have their luggage. I am the only one who will have to go clothesless for the duration of the trip. I go shopping on British Air's tab, just for one new outfit, as the clothes I've been wearing since we left New York are starting to feel grody. (Thank goodness for my thought of packing necessary clothing bits in my carry on!) Convinced that I'll have to get up early to go to the Grand Bazaar, I wander out of my room at 7 a.m., and lo and behold, my luggage has arrived!
British Air very kindly paid for the clothing and toiletries I purchased over the two days I waited for my bags.
My family and I were all set to go off to Los Angeles from Sacramento for a family vacation to Disneyland, the happiest (ahem, yah right) place on Earth. As you might know, the drive there was filled with landscapes of desert and other dry, humid places. Fun stuff, right? Anyway, there I am, sitting in a car with my two sisters and my parents who have no desire to be travelling. About halfway there, my mother realizes the funny sounds coming from the car are NOT a good thing. So, we pull over and lo and behold! The air conditioner was going out. So, for the rest of the trip there (at least four more hours) and all the way back (a total of say, seven hours) we got to sit all cramped together, sweating like a glass of water on a hot day. Let me tell you, rolling the windows down was not much of an improvement.
I should preface this with "according to the United States, I don't live in the United States. In fact, I'm not even on the continent.." I dealt with those issues before I went to the airport, thankfully. I'm in Alaska, in fact, I'm in Wasilla, of Vice-Presidential Candidate Sarah Palin fame. I arrived at the Ted Stevens International Airport just in time for the slush storm to start. I swear, pour some flavoring on it and you’d have had yourself a Slurpee. I have two last names and the ticket kiosk had a hard time with it. I waited with a security officer frowning down on me for an hour to have a lady tell me that it was my fault for having two last names and that I should “get it taken care of.” Security was “out to lunch, be back in five minutes.” I waited for two hours for someone to wander back. Turns out security switched shifts and forgotten about us, off in tiny terminal of never used because nobody in their right mind leaves Alaska for anywhere but Seattle or Hawaii. Besides, it was a red-eye flight, so I should have expected issues, or so I was told.
I was seated next to a young mother. And boy do I mean young. 15, 16, with a wailing infant. It wailed most of the flight, in fact. Thirteen hours of turbulence and wailing baby. On the other side of me was an Alaskan Sourdough. I think he had three teeth and the flannel shirt he wore had probably not been taken off in a month. He drooled and spit while mumbling to himself. About midway through the flight the young mother informed me the baby’s diaper was leaking into her lap. With the crowed on the plane, though, you could pretty well tell by smell alone.
When I got to the airport in Boston, I realized I’d told my friend my flight number but not my airline. Oops. Plus I didn’t have a cell phone. Top that off with neither of us recognizing one another, and it really could have been a lot worse. I found her eventually. Rather, she found me—how many lost Alaskans do you all have wandering your airports, I mean, really. I was found, and on land, and things were looking up. I just had to get my luggage and go. Got the luggage with only a few minor hitches, and then I sat down. My debt card cracked, rendering me temporarily unable to access my meager funds.
It was bright and early, a conspiratorially gorgeous day in New England, painful on my weary eyes. I swear, even the birds were mocking my beleaguered state, cheerfully chirping. Needless to say, the rest of the trip was overcast.
I took my daughter, Kaylee to New York to see Wicked. She was 5 years old at the time. We saw the original Broadway cast with Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel. Anyway, the day started off wonderfully. We got to the theatre early to try for the ticket lottery even though we already had tickets and they pulled Kaylee's name so we got front row seats for $25 each. Instead of turning my tickets in for their face value, I chose to sell my seats to a couple who did not win the ticket lottery for $25 each. Ya know, the whole do something good and it comes back to you. Yeah right. So the show was amazing and we brought flowers for Idina and Kristen which Kristen came down and took from us. So after, I decide to take Kaylee to the stage door to see if we can meet Idina and Kristen. We wait and finally get a chance to talk to the big bouncer type who tells us they are not coming out (it was a matinee) and to come back after the evening performance and he will make sure we get to meet them. So we hang out in NYC all day, go to an evening performance of Beauty and the Beast with friends and afterwards, we pass on the chance to meet Kristy Carlson Romano (voice of Kim Possible and Disney Channel star who was playing Belle) and run back to the theatre where Wicked is playing. It starts to rain and we are standing with arms full of bags (from shopping in NYC all day) and no umbrella getting soaked waiting at the stage door. The big bouncer type tells us that Idina and Kristen are already gone but that if we leave our program with him, he will make sure they sign it. So it is now 11:30 at night, raining and we need to get to the bus station. Forget about getting a taxi in NYC when it is raining. The bouncer feels bad for us so he gives us his umbrella. I am running for the bus station with an umbrella, a 5 yr old and shopping bags and arive to find that the last bus to our destination has left for the evening but that there is another bus that will take us close. We get on this bus and end up getting off at the wrong stop. As the bus pulls away, I realize we are in the middle of nowhere, NJ, it is now close to 1AM and my daughter is pretty much asleep on her feet. I call our hotel and the shuttle driver has long gone home. I call 3 taxi companies before I find one that will come get us. We get back to the hotel, wet and exhausted and fall into bed. On Sunday, we hang around NYC til afterthe matinee and go back to the theatre to find an unsigned program and both stars gone again. At this point we gave up and went home.
I went to Tokyo, Japan back in '96 and the culture shock is an experience in itself, but after about 12 hours of flying, we were picked up and driven to our hotel. The mini-van is bombing down what we here in Canada would consider a back alley, (one paved lane with little room on the sides), there are pedestrians walking on both sides and this driver is going like a kama-kazee race-car driver! We're all screaming "oh my God, he's going to run someone over!" We made it to our room without anyone dying and a lot more gray hairs than we started with.
Apparently this is how everyone drives in Tokyo... great! We got in a cab with the address of the place we were going written in Japanese on a paper, the driver has "coke bottle" thick lenses on his glasses and can't make out the address! So we tell him we'll get another cab because we are unable to tell him in Japanese where we want to go, he's all "no, no, I'll get you there", so we stayed in that cab. BIG MISTAKE! If the guy can't see a paper right in front of his face, imagine what his driving was like in Tokyo with the non-stop kama-kazee drivers in traffic that never ends. Pedal to the metal starts, screeching to a halt numerous times, (we're all hanging on for dear life and praying to any and all higher forces), and he goes up on two wheels to take a corner! That was it, we made him stop and we got out to find another cab.
Needless to say, we found a shuttle bus to take us back to the airport when we left, lol.
I am cursed when it comes to flying. I get delayed or stranded every single time I fly anywhere.
My last flight was almost 3 years ago. Hubby was working down in FL and ended up in the hospital. Nothing like getting that phone call at ten Sunday evening from his friend...”They think he had a heart attack.” As you can imagine panic ensued.
I managed to get a flight arranged from Memphis to Miami the next afternoon. It was one with a connecting flight in Chicago. (Beats me why we had to fly further from our destination in the opposite direction first, but it was the only flight I could get.) We’re scheduled to leave at about 2 pm from Memphis, an hour layover in Chicago and should be in Miami about 7 pm. Instead, I’m delayed about 3 hours in Memphis due to storms. Finally get to Chicago only to have further delays – weather, mechanical, waiting on pilots. You name it, we were delayed for it there. I finally manage to arrive at Miami at about 2 am. Throughout all this I’m calling the hospital in Miami trying to get information about what is going on with my husband and no one can tell me anything. (They had made him put his cell phone with in personal lockup so he couldn’t call me.) So I’m trying to operate in total panic mode. Heap on top of this my crazed mother-in-law criticizing every thing I’m doing or saying because I can’t get any answers from the hospital and its all my fault they won’t talk to her either. Turns out they had preformed angioplasty on my husband that afternoon so he was laid up in ICU. He somehow managed to get a collect call out to me on my cell phone (to the tune of about $75 for a two minute conversation, I might add). I get to the hospital at about 3 am only to be told by security that I could not go in. He finally relented at my tears. I guess he figured it was easier to let me go up for 30 minutes then dealing with a hysterical woman because I was teetering on the edge there.
I won’t even go into the delays and complications of trying to get a wheel chair arranged for the trip home. Or the fact that the doctor put him on a medication that sent him back to the hospital 2 weeks later. Overall it turns out, that hubby had heat stroked but what the heck...he had insurance and some blockage so...cha-ching!!
Then there was my one overseas trip. All I can say is…never ever fly during Thanksgiving weekend. Stranded in Barcelona. Stranded in Amsterdam. (Let me tell you. European airport security are damn scary with their automatic assault weapons hover over you in the wee hours of the morning wanting to see your passport when you’re trying to get a little sleep in a very uncomfortable lounge chair.) Stranded in Detroit. Stranded in Atlanta. Aghhhhhhh! I thought I would never get home.
Mine was kinda long [cough] so I posted it over on my own blog instead of taking up eight screens of your comments. :)
Angie
Rode to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico in a converted (i.e. oh look a port-a-potty and two bunk beds) school bus (also meaning no air conditioning) from Cleveland OH in July. Voluntarily. I'm not even going into detail on the horros of the trip. I merely question my apparent desire to entomb myself for hours with 27 other sweaty bodies and repetitive greasy Denny's meals.
I also don't need to be added to the running, since I own Pure Blood and already know it was totally awesome!
My first husband and I took our honeymoon in Vegas right after they started beefing up security. In my infinite wisdom, I booked my ticket under my new name, but my DL still had my maiden name on it. So when we departed, I received this nice little snake-shaped thing on my ticket that told Security to double check me. Appartently short blondes with spiky haircuts are a HUGE threat.
So I'm corralled into this glass hallway where everyone walks by and points and laughs. After about an hour, it's my turn to be checked. For most everyone else it was a quick swipe with the handheld metal detector and they were on their way, but something on me kept setting it off. They had me take off my shoes, they checked my bra, they had me unbutton my pants (not remove, just to check if I was hiding an automatic weapon in my capris), all while everyone and their dog is walking by and staring at me.
As the kindly (see: asshole) Security Officer is checking around my pant line, he happens upon my underwear. This particular pair had a metal...yes, METAL butterfly holding the back part together. (Hey, they were cute!) I was so nervous and angry I hadn't even considered that my thong would be setting off the metal detector.
We were late for our flight, and I swear, random patrons walked by and stared at my ass in remembrance of the girl whose thong set off the metal detectors.
Worse travel story....hmmm well my worst was when I first moved to Austria from the UK. Backpack loaded with all my worldly possessions I went off to Cardiff bus station on Halloween at 3am and got the bus to London.
The bus terminated at 6am somewhere in London and I had to wait an hour for the connection to the main station...got there and then had to walk through the streets to find the departure area which wasn't at the arrivals building.
Then I waited 5 hours to depart on the bus to Vienna. Which I was told went straight through and I would not have to change.
The ferry trip was rough...then we got to Paris and I was starving...problem...back then there weren't Euros and I didn't have any french currency...it was now nearing midnight...
On we went to Belgium where I was woken up in the early hours to find our bus parked in a back street and told to change buses...this wouldn't have been too bad but the other bus was already full with people who didn't want to make room for me...and I was told I would have to change again...
3am we leave Brussels and start moving on to Germany. I was tired but couldn't sleep because I was told I would need to change buses again...I was hungry...I had nothing to eat and only British and Austrian money...
About 6am in the morning we arrived at a German petrol station where I had to change buses again. Yet again onto a full bus. Luckily some people took me under their wing when they saw me and gave me food and chatted to me.
Around 11am I finally arrived at my destinated and when I got to my bed I slept for a whole day.
Sure the bus was cheap and it was all I could afford back then but I would never do that again. I have no regrets about moving to Austria but nowadays I save up and pay for flights ;)
I actually can't think of a horrible travel story. Not that it's all been good, but I don't have any Oceanic 815's in my litany of woes.
Closest I came was when a group I was traveling with flew Aeroflot from Ireland to Russia. My flight was ok, other than the flight attendant putting vodka in everything.
The other half of our group...there were goats in the cabin. If you pulled too hard, the seatbelt came out of the seat. There was a lengthy unscheduled layover in Luxembourg. And because it can't be said enough, goats in the cabin. And chickens, but at least they were caged.