Flashback Friday: The Scariest Flight of My Life

I have the absolute worst luck ever when it comes to flying. Diversions, cancellations, delays…you name it and it’s happened to me. More than twice. It’s so bad that it’s become a joke between family and friends. Among all of the frustrations, though, there is one story that stands out among the rest as being the absolute worst travel experience of my life. One that when reflected upon, is also the scariest.

In November of 2010 I was trying to make my way from Detroit to London in order to visit some of my au pair friends. The day started off with a delightfully early 6:00 am flight from Detroit to Philadelphia. I was taking the most rounadabout way to London (Detroit to Philly to Paris to London) because I’d booked the flight when I lived in Philadelphia not thinking that a move back to Michigan was in the cards. With my bad luck I’d booked a flight leaving me with plenty of time to make the international flight should something arise. As luck would have it, I made it on time and had about seven hours to kill in Philly. After getting my fill of Philadelphia cuisine (pretzels and cheesesteaks), taking full advantage of the free WiFi, and drinking about 5 liters of water to try to prevent air travel swelling, I finally boarded my flight to Paris.

The very beginning of this disastrous journey.

As I boarded the plane I was immediately struck by how small and old it was. In a phone call to my mom (before the aircraft door was shut) I’m pretty sure I said, “I think this is from Delta’s first fleet.” As I’m not generally a nervous flyer I shrugged off any fears of plummeting to my death due to the less than desirable conditions of the plane, and started on my transatlantic flight ritual of dinner, a movie, 2 Benadryl, and a few glasses of wine.

CC Image courtesty of andrewc75 on Flickr

A few hours later I was awoken from my drug induced slumber by the start of breakfast service. The beverage cart was rolling its way toward me when all of the lights suddenly shut off and the plane shuddered. Odd, I thought, but no one else seemed fazed so I reached for my cup of terrible coffee and slumped back down into my seat.

Minutes later the lights turned back on and the pilot made an announcement.

“Uh, ladies and gentleman. You may have been wondering what happened and we just lost complete power to the right engine. We will be making an emergency landing in Shannon, Ireland. There will be a full emergency turnout. Don’t be alarmed, I just practiced this on the flight simulator last week.”

Followed by a chuckle.

Really? REALLY? That is supposed to be comforting?

I looked out the window. Still over the ocean. With the effects of my over the counter allergy medicine and wine cocktail still lingering, I couldn’t tell if I was absolutely terrified, completely calm, or at peace with possibly dying. My friend, an engineer who works in the aviation industry, had told me that planes are required to be able to fly across an ocean with only one engine. I kept repeating that to myself as the small plane graphic on the in flight map inched closer and closer to the green blob of land that was our safe haven.

I’m not sure how much time actually went by between the engine failing and our landing, but after what seemed like years we started our descent. The bright lights of the emergency vehicles lit up the still dark sky, and as the wheels finally touched pavement the passengers let out a collective sigh of relief. After being cleared, the plane proceeded to the gate and we were left waiting and wondering what was going to happen next.

A horrible photo of the trail of lights following us down the runway.

We were eventually let off the plane with the promise of a food voucher (never received) and no idea how this journey was going to continue. When they announced that another plane would be coming, in about five hours, and continuing the flight to Paris, and that we could not fly directly from Shannon to our final destination, I sort of lost it. I’d been traveling for almost 24 hours, to a place that should have taken about 8, and I’d definitely be missing my connection at Charles de Gaulle.

Eventually, thanks to my parents calling Delta from the US, I was able to get rebooked on an Aer Lingus flight directly to London. One long nap on the airport floor and an hour flight later, I arrived safely in London where I enjoyed a wonderful week of old friends and new places.

Until I returned to the airport eight days later and found my flight home had been cancelled due to mechanical issues.

Note: I actually didn’t realize how serious this could have been until I came home and did some Internet searches about my flight. Although I  believe Delta handled the aftermath incredibly poorly, I am thankful to the pilots and flight crew for the way the situation in the air was handled. Also, as a fun fact, Delta made three emergency landings that weekend, including a Moscow bound flight carrying Leonardo DiCaprio. 

Have you ever had a flight or airline related horror story? Leave them in the comments!

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