There was the time on a flight from Sydney to Lord Howe Island - small plane (Dash 8), entire flight over water - that the dropkick across the aisle for me decided to test out the lifejackets we’d all just had demonstrated to us, presumably to amuse his girlfriend by pretending to pull the inflate toggle. Except he pulled just that little bit too hard, didn’t he - those things go off with a BANG, let me tell you. I just stared at him and said, quite loudly: YOU IDIOT. The head stewardess looked and sounded like a retired headmistress, and gave him a talking to he won’t forget - you could see him visibly shrinking into his seat as she bore into him for about 10 minutes without drawing breath.
1.I have a fond memory from the mid 80’s, waiting for a flight at LGA to DTW and seeing the Last CAll For Flight announcement for the gate next to ours. Up and running towards the gate, carring two large open top beers each, were a couple of guys dressed for a long weekend of golf somewhere.
2.We took my FIL back to Germany in 1997 to visit family. He is paralyzed from the chest down, so it is a bit of planning and organizational skill to travel with him and his wheelchair and med. equipment.
We were on a charter flight round trip. Had to check in 3 hours early. ( Which is the norm now, but back then, it was not as stringent, though you’d be stupid not to check in early for international flights ASAP.) Anywhooo. there was a line about 150 people long when we got to the airport at 6a and by the time the desk opened up shortly thereafter, the line was easily 200 long. One agent checking in all those people.
Another agent went through the line and pulled specific people. WE were the first. Because of my FIL in his wheelchair. My husband had his dad’s carry on stuff and I was the sherpa, with a dumptruck of luggage. I must have looked like I had 10 children with all the suitcases and crap we were bringing back. ( My FIL’s mom died the week before we went over, so it was memento’s for the rest of the family.)
This bitter lady behind me says, " How come you guys get to take cuts? I want special treatment!" ( or something equally bitter and retarded and callous.)
" Well, to get this treatment, you have to be paralyzed from the nipples down."And I gave her a How do you like them apples? look and I herniated our luggage cart towards the VIP-Geezer line.
Rats Around the World
Not an airplane story, but c. 1993 I was riding in the London Underground. A guy in his 20’s sat down across from me, and pulled a rat out of his pocket. He showed it to his friend next to him and said, “He’s gettin’ biggeh!” One lady near him got off at the next stop and I’m certain it wasn’t her stop. Another guy just grinned. Then Rat Boy put the rat down the front of his T-shirt. It was amusing to see the rat-lump scuttling around under there, and it suddenly stopped. Then a wet spot appeared and grew from a dot to the size of a dime to a quarter to a Sacagawea dollar.
My Airplane Story
This is not so much hilarious as just weird. I was leaving a conference in Seattle to go back home to the DC area, flying on United departing 8:01 going to Dulles. Going up the escalator to the gates, I saw a woman in front me with her daughter, about 4. The woman was stooping over to her daughter saying, “We’re going to Gate One! Can you remember that? Gate One! That’s right! We’re going to Gate One!” holding up her index finger for emphasis, “Gate One!” Now fully hypnotized, I went directly to Gate One. I checked the board–United, 8:01 departure to Dulles, check.
On the flight, the pilot announced the stop in Denver. I thought I had booked a non-stop, but I guessed I must have remembered wrong. The layover in Denver was an hour or so, so they let us get out if we wanted. I left the plane, and when I returned, the gate agent lookd at my boarding pass and said, “You’re not on this flight sir.”
“Well, of course I’m on this flight. I’ve been on this plane since Seattle.”
After a few minutes they figured out there was another flight that I was ticketed for. They let me get back on the plane since it wasn’t full, and didn’t bother to re-ticket me.
The same airline had two flights with exactly the same scheduled departure times going to the same airport, one non-stop and one with a stop.
I actually felt kind of badly for the guy, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the time.
I had to fly in/out of John Wayne Airport in Orange County on a one day business trip. Apparently I had pissed the gods off and getting sent on a day trip to California was my punishment.
I boarded for the flight home and the guy in the middle seat, early to mid 20s was obviously quite nervous. Because of the noise abatement restrictions there, planes have to go into a very steep climb on takeoff. I since most traffic between OC and Phoenix are commuters / regulars, I figured he knew that and that’s what made him twitchy.
Nope.
The plane taxis down the runway and this guy is white knuckled all the way. We lift off and the pilot almost immediately into what felt to me like an even steeper climb than usual.
I cock an eye at the guy sitting next to me and he’s full body rigid, shaking, pale as death, with his eyes bulged out and his mouth wide open. The only sound he was making was this feeble little, “Glaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag,” noise.
I couldn’t help it. I burst out in a full belly laugh. It was enough to snap the guy out of it. I said, “They should probably make a warning about that steep climb.”
He said, “Do they do that all the time?”
“Yeah, the have to climb fast to minimize the noise so the botoxed bluehairs aren’t as bothered by the noise.”
“I’m going to fucking kill my dad. He knows I hate flying. He said for some reason pilots sometimes go crazy when they get stuck on commuter runs like these and try to rip the wings off the plane by racing straight up like that. He was fucking with me.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed again. Eventually the guy joined me that time.
Amen. The only thing better than a pet rat (other than a pet cat) is two pet rats. They’re wonderful, social animals, and they get along well with each other. (Well, the females do. Don’t know if the rat-dudes fight.)
Sad thing is that they really do bond with their owners - but, at the end of the day, they’re rodents, and just don’t live all that long.
On an ATA flight from O’Hare to LaGuardia ten years ago, we were delayed 2-3 hours at take off due to wind shear? hold up (this was not the bad part). We finally reach the runway and the pilot guns the engines, and it sounds like a chainsaw in the plane (unbelievably lowed hum and vibration). I seriously thought that the bearings were locking up. We take off and the chainsaw noise continues (pilot comes back to check it out), it is so loud that it is not even possible to hear announcements. Attendants walk down the aisle yelling announcements every 2 rows. Due to a thunderstorm in NYC, we were put in a hold pattern for an hour.
We were now so low on fuel that we eventually got landing clearance for LGA. We are in finally decent and this plane is bucking and rocking like nothing I have ever seen (books and bags from the floor are hitting the overhead compartment repeatedly, seat belts straining, arms flying around, lighting flashing everywhere around us, etc.) We are less than 50 feet from the runway, wings no where close to level, and the pilot abandons the landing gunning the engines. Life flashing before my eyes does not begin to describe the episode. However, the engine in roaring back to full throttle has cured itself and hearing has returned. Funniest thing I ever heard and I know you had to be there: two seconds after the “quiet” begins guy two rows back says, “I sure hope they fed the squirrels.” and the whole plane just busts a gut laughing. We all knew exactly what he was talking about.
We literally skim over Queens and land at JFK instead in a straight shot (this is how I think the Controller for the Hudson River plane crash is just typical of them). After pulling over close to the terminal, the pilot announces that his instructions are to refuel and go back to LGA. Literally, mutiny takes over (I have never been happier to be a New Yorker in my life.) Everyone succinctly said, “Hell no! We are 4 hours late and close enough.” After ~30 seconds of debate and everyone beginning to scream about false imprisonment, they pulled over a wheeled staircase and deplaned the passengers.
But that squirrel comment said it all.
Oh, I forgot my other better story:
On a flight from NYC to Cincinnati, I sit down next to a late teen-looking guy wearing Carhartt pants, red flannel shirt, and has a loaf of cornbread on his lap and a big green army duffel between his legs (Yokel through and through). During take off, there is more underbreath swearing and religious crossing of himself than I have ever heard in my life. Being friendly, I say that this is totally normal take-off. He responds, “Oh, I know. I actually fly over 100,000 miles a year, I just hate it.” I have a great conversation with him; he works in insurance industry out of NYC.
About a half hour later, I see him take a bite of cornbread and then put a small piece of cornbread into his duffel while reading a library loaned Boy Scout book, “Reptiles as Pets”; about 10 times he repeated taking a bite and then putting a chunk into the duffel until I finally asked him what was up.
Him:“I just bought some corn snakes so I’m trying to figure out what to feed them.”
Me: “You mean you have snakes in your bag?”
Him: “Yeah, ten of them. Do you want to see them?”
Me: “They’re not in a cage?”
Him: “They’re pretty small and kept escaping from their cage so I thought it would be easier to just take them like this and get a better cage in Florida”
Me: “I’m not scared of snakes, but if anyone else on this plane sees a snake free in your bag or on the ground there is going to be a lot of screaming and much panic.”
He watched the bag like a hawk then- pushing them back in whenever they stuck their heads out.
That reminds me of my own pet + airport story- how did I forget this one?
'Twas many a year ago, in Kansas City. My family has friends there, and one of their daughters was being bat-mitzva’d. The bat-mitzva itself happened to fall out right around Purim, and so the celebration was Purim-themed. F’rinstance, the party itself (at least part of it) was in a carnival booth-type thing. You know- ring tosses, moonwalks, win-a-goldfish games…
Well, I won a goldfish. That made for a bit of a problem, because unlike the other new fish owners, I lived half-way across the country.
No problem, sez I. I’ll just take the fish with me on the plane.
And so it was. I brought the fish along in a tupperware container full of water. I sent it through the X-ray machine with my other carryon items, and brought it on the plane. I opened the lid every half-hour or so to give it air, and the fish seemed to take it pretty well.
The fish came home alive and well, and what’s more, neither of my cats tried to eat it. I named it Miracle, and it lived for another six days before floating belly-up in the tank. What? It was a goldfish.
A buddy of mine showed me around a DC-3 that was mostly held together by Duct tape.
It was funny to me 'cause I wasn’t going up in it.
An airport story. I was waiting outside the Albany airport in the pickup zone for my mom when a car pulled up and several Arab-looking people popped out and left their car (parked and unattended) at the curbside. A security officer walked in air got them back out because they werent allowed to leave the car unattended in that area, so they drove off.
Then a couple minutes later, another car pulls up and a group of several men who obviously belong to some sort of Orthodox Jewish sect pull up to the exact same spot, and park their car and walk into the airport. Security sets them straight and they leave.
I was just imagining that this was some sort of elaborate cat and mouse game, since this is the only two times I’ve seen people been called out for doing that and they happened within minutes of each other. It was just ridiculous enough to obviously be completely random (Orthodox Jewish terrorists/counter terrorist cell in dreadlocks?) but still, it was really weird.
I had boarded a (pre 9-11) flight and noticed a woman and her 5-year-old daughter had with them two of those shiny mylar helium balloons as carry-on baggage. The flight attendants, charmed by the little girl, were happy to put the balloons in the overhead compartment. I asked whether this was really a good idea, but this was dismissed as the foolish reservation of someone who obviously took no delight in pleasing children.
Sure enough, about 20 minutes into the flight there was a loud “bang”, followed by another about 15 seconds later. There was no outright panic, but some real consternation. In the aftermath, the looks I received from one flight attendant plainly said that my prediction of trouble was being held against me.
When my daughter was small, we headed to California for her to see the grandparents. As we are landing, pilot announces we’re in Los ANgeles. Loud enough for everyone to hear, she wails " I don’t want to go to Los Angeles, I want to go to California!" Chuckles all around.
Mid 1990 redeye LA to Newark. At practically the last minute a blond lady about 30 comes onto the plane walking backwards with a luggage cart with about five big open top boxes full of files (attorney I guess) anyway she had a exit row and proceeds to pile the boxes in front of the emergency exit.
FA walks by and see this and tells her no way in hell. Either the boxes go in the overhead, or they don’t travel on that flight. so blondie proceeds to piss everybody off by rearranging the overheard for about 6 rows in each direction to get her boxes up there.
During the flight she takes them all down to work on them. Finally we are on approach to Newark. Blondie gets an idea. She proceeds to buckle the boxes into the unoccupied exit row seats. One box per seat.
The FA walks up, takes one look at this and in a very loud voice says Did you star in the movie Clueless?
The entire plane broke up.
Kona airport is a grass shack. Really. the waiting room is outside, and you walk to the plane and then up the stairs.
Anyway we are getting ready to fly home. There is a SF flight leaving at 2:50PM and our LAX flight starts boarding at 3:05PM So we have watched the SF flight board, the door close, the stairs get pulled back, and the plane taxi.
So right as this 757 starts its takeoff roll, a guy comes up to me and asks “When are they going to start boarding the flight to SF?”
I look at him :dubious: Point to the 757 now accelerating down the runway toward us and reply “about 40 minutes ago, it is taking off now”
:eek: was his response. “but my ticket says that boarding is at 2:50” he protests.
“Better look again, departure was at 2:50, boarding was about 30 minutes before that.”
He pulls out his ticket and sure enough :smack:
“What do I do now?” He asks.
“go see one of the nice ladies at the counter and be very polite and you might get home.” was my suggestion.
Just ask Samuel L. Jackson.
Dreadlocks?
Dreadlocks? :dubious: Surely you mean peyos.
Egyptian Engineering
Here is a photo I took on an Egyptair flight going from Cairo to Aswan to Abu Simbel. Roll mouse over for a closeup. It wasn’t exactly held together with duct tape but they did use duct tape to “repair” the ceiling. :eek: Didn’t inspire confidence about what we *couldn’t *see.
Ever hear of the Confederate Air Force?
I went to college in San Marcos, TX in the mid-70s. Some of the CAF guys had planes out at the airport and I started hanging out there. I showed up there one day and they had a B-25 on the ground. It was in transit, headed to Rebel Field in Harlingen, and they were going to be there for a couple of days.
They offered me a ride. And like a fool, I said hell yes, because they said I could ride in the nosegunner’s position. They had a dummy machine gun in there and I amused myself by “strafing” cars on I-35 every chance I got. 
Then I found out that one of the requirements to be a CAF pilot is a streak of cruelty, mixed with no sanity whatsoever.
The pilot put us nose down. Straight 90 degrees, getting ready to augur into the earth at 200+ mph. And I’m right there in that nose watching the earth rush up toward me. Why I didn’t piss myself or puke up my kneecaps, I still don’t know to this day. He pulled up, did some other wierd shit with the plane, then finally landed. When we all got out, I was a little wobble-kneed and somewhat pale, but the fact that I had held up apparently got me many brownie points with them.
Crazy fuckers, one and all. Great guys.
The ceiling panels you see in a plane are just plastic or fiberboard panels, similar to a dropped ceiling in a building. They have nothing to do with the structural integrity of the plane or building, that comes from the girders above them – they just cover up the wiring and give a pretty-looking ceiling.
So a duct-tape repair would be both functional & cheap. But I agree that it does not inspire confidence. They could at least have used ivory-colored duct tape that would match the ceiling.
Barrel packs are essentially giant tupperware barrels. When mine went on a plane as luggage, the air pressure in the pack equalized at altitude, but didn’t equalize as we descended – it just sucked the lid on tighter, leaving me with a squished pack that I was unable to open for a couple of days until the air pressure in it gradually equalized, by which time I had to make a return trip.
Flying Air India, when the meal was served, on disposable dishes, even the Indian’s on the plane grimaced and pushed it away from them. Many of them obviously had experience with this and had brought their own food, very smart. Quite rightly too, the meal was truly abysmal.
When it was time for clearing up, after the meal, a sullen steward went down the aisles, dragging a green garbage bag behind and tossing the uneaten meals in as he went. I’ve never seen such a thing on an airplane, before or since.
On an Air Canada flight, they served us something that might have been a drink, or a dessert, or a finger bowl. No one knew.