3. Flight from Johannesburg to Manchester
Ok so this was my first international flight without my family. I was 17 years old and travelling with a friend to the UK for a 6week holiday. In some ways it was the best flight of my life, but it is in the top 5 of worst flights mainly due to the aftermath of the flight. About 5 minutes before I boarded the plane I took 3 sleeping pills. By Jove those things are serious! I barely made it to my seat before I passed out! I was woken up by my travelling companion who was shaking me vigorously, thinking I was dead. I awoke with my face squashed against a freezing cold window, which, on closer inspection, actually had icicles on the outside. Then I had no idea where we were. Then I was told that it was 9 am in Manchester and that I had been asleep for 11 hours. I was so confused! I didn't even remember boarding the plane! I have absolutely no recollection of the flight whatsoever, which, for some, would be considered a Godsend, but for others who sat next to a man who removed his pants at some point during those 11 hours, it's a bit frightening. I also suffered from jet lag for the rest of the holiday, as well as from paranoia that the man with no pants was out there somewhere, watching me, with no pants on.2.Flight from Johannesburg to Atlanta
Now this is a long flight. 20 hours to be exact. With no stops. Now picture this, you board the plane and find your seat. Make yourself comfortable and look forward to your time in the states with much excitement and anticipation. Since I had already had my fare share of sleeping pills in my last international flight, I chose to remain lucid for the entire 20 hours to avoid any suspicious awakenings. Then you meet the person who will be your travel companion. You don't want things to be awkward for the next 20 hours, so you introduce yourself and get chatting. He is a nice African man who turns out to be a priest who is travelling to the states to "spread the word". He has 4 wives and 16 children. Then he says he has never married a white woman, and he asks you for your number and if you would consider being his fifth wife. You say no. Great, now things are awkward for the next 20 hours. To make matters worse, the grotesquely built man sitting in front of me reached back for a stretch and punched the lights out of my TV screen with his monstrosity of a fist, so it stopped working in the first hour. And no, I couldn't switch to another seat because the flight was full, and I wasn't about to ask the Hulk in front of me if he could swap with me. He might just punch my lights out too. So I sat there, too afraid to stir in case the priest thought I was awake and tried to make conversation again, but too afraid to fall asleep in case the Priest married me while I was out. It was a very, very long flight. The priest also managed at some point to sneakily put a note in my jacket pocket saying that, should I change my mind about marriage, I should give him a call. I've decided that, if I'm not married by the time I'm 35, I might just do that.
Wouldn't you?
1. Flight from Cape Town to Durban
Some of you may think, "Hey, that's only a two hour flight, how much can go wrong?" Clearly you have never endured a two hour flight with a hangover from red wine and a shamed ego, wearing a dressing gown because your room mate couldn't manage to find anything more decent to dress you in. Hardy har har.
It all began with a res dance, a drinking competition where white wine changed to red wine, then red wine changed to brandy and coke, then brandy and coke changed to just brandy. Then I went to sleep in the men's bathroom with my head in the toilet and a near twisted ankle. This doesn't really deviate from my average Friday night, however, try doing that and then flying for two hours at 6 am the following morning. My good friend showered me, dressed me in my robe and took me to the airport, Oh how I wanted her to stay and hold my hair back for the rest of the trip! I threw up twice on the way to the airport. I was in no state of mind to be in an airport or near children. Despite my shower and clean looking bathrobe, I smelt like the floor of a pub after St Paddy's day and looked like a ghost. I checked in, threw up, went and sat in the departure lounge, threw up again, and fell asleep for a little bit. (I just hope that my robe stayed secure for those 2 or 3 minutes I was passed out...) At least there are bathrooms everywhere so throwing up and disgracing myself could be done in private. That changed, however, in the 50 or so metres from the boarding gate to the air plane. There was no cover, it was an open tarmac and there were passengers milling all around me making their way to the plane. Then I got sick. I couldn't help it, I threw up right there on the tarmac, about 5 metres from a Mango air plane. It was heinous. I had no where to hide. So I did what every normal person would do: Wipe their face on their robe, flap their arms to try stop perspiring, get back on their shaky feet and get on that plane! I thought that I was safe once I was sitting down, but alas, I was not. The prepubescent pervert sitting next to me thought I would like to chat and perhaps share his chicken mayo sandwhich. I did not want to. I was too afraid to talk in case more than words came out of my mouth. I was really too afraid to even breathe. And I hate mayo. So I politely asked to be excused and went and writhed in the bathroom for the remainder of the flight, slipping in and out of a painful sleep. It was a very low moment for me.
That was, and is, the worst flight I have ever had, hands down.
Tell me your stories!!
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