1 of 21

Write now Article Tools

With only five days of our vacation time overlapping, we decided that if we were going to see my husband's mother in Indiana, we'd clearly have to fly instead of doing a road trip from Oregon as we'd done in the past. Booking airline tickets was a snap over the internet, and we soon had our trip with a layover in Houston all planned out.

Little did we know, as we set out for the airport the morning of our flight, that a vacation gremlin was at work, assigned especially to us. As it transpired, there was a hurricane brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, about to throw a monkey wrench into our plans.

The initial flight was dull and uneventful, which is generally a good thing. But as we neared Houston - THUD! The plane bounced like a bumper car as it hit severe turbulence, and someone yelled out in pain. THUD! THUD! it went again, and the same person went on yelling. When the plane emerged from the turbulent air, one of the cabin stewards crawled on his hands and knees to the back of the plane, his face white with pain, his knee torn from the violent shaking we'd just taken.

The turbulence continued, though much milder, as we approached Houston. Foul weather had backed up the whole airport and we were just one of many planes in a holding pattern over the airport. We all sat tight, buckled into our seats, waiting for the word that we might land and possibly catch our connecting flights, but no. We continued to circle until the plane was running low on fuel.

Now what? With no chance to land soon at Houston, our plane was sent to San Antonio to fuel up. As we sat on the tarmac, wondering if we'd deplane or not, a team of medics clambered aboard and trotted to the back of the plane, where they tended the stricken steward.

Once the plane was refueled, we were in the air again. We headed back to Houston, and after some more circling, finally arrived nearly three hours late.

The Houston airport was a mess. Readerboards outside the gate announced offers of extra pay for workers who would work overtime - not a good sign. Inside, thousands of stranded passengers with expressions ranging from annoyance to panic to tired resignation milled about or stood in line at counters. We found the gate where our connecting flight to Indianapolis would have been, hoping by some faint miracle that it, too, might have been delayed. No such luck. Our flight was long gone. What now? The agent at the counter said, "You'll have to get in that line." We looked - and couldn't even see the back of the line

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Planes, trains & automobiles: Transport nightmares?
We want to hear your view. Write now!