this was my story (turned into a 5 hour delay): http://talk.collegeconfidential.com/parent-cafe/2066670-4-5-hour-jet-blue-delay.html#latest
After visiting Cal with D, our 8am flight back to Phoenix was cancelled and we were put on a 9pm. I literally asked the agent, “is that 9am or 9pm?” :))
Anyway, that was the phone agent who I’d called while we were standing in line at the main ticket counter. So we’re waiting at the ticket counter just in case those agents could do something the phone agents couldn’t. We were 3rd in line and just chatting and not paying attention, but 30 minutes later we were only up to 2nd in line and I was wondering what was taking so long.
Finally get to the front of the line and see a guy there with a young kid and an old parent in a wheelchair. This entire time he’s been complaining bitterly about the delay and trying to get an earlier flight. He’s talking to a manager and asking to talk to her supervisor, but she’s being very calm and polite and tells him that the buck stops with her. So this exchange is what cracked up me and D, and we still joke about it to this day:
Passenger: “Why can’t you put on flight x?”
Agent: “I’m sorry but there’s no seats available.”
Passenger: “Don’t you have a heart?”
Agent: “I have a heart sir, I just don’t have a seat.”
What a wonderful reminder of why I simply hate to travel.
So many stories : 
& 
I’m in the fortunate position of having no job and no real obligations. We live on the east coast. For a few years, one son lived in CA and I visited him regularly, often by myself, because husband does have a job and obligations. From our local airport there were no direct flights, and it seemed like there was always a problem flying back home from CA. I would get re-routed from the original layover airport, due to weather or mechanical issues, and end up at a small and unfamiliar airport.
One trip the plane ended up diverted due to mechanical issues; airport almost closing and all available hotels already booked. The next flight home wasn’t available till 8pm the next night. I looked at the board and saw a flght leaving for a city where one of my sibs lives, called them up and asked if it was possible to come for a short visit and they said “sure” and so I did. This changed my whole approach to air travel, though it is necessary to keep in mind not everyone wants me to just show up unexpectedly because I don’t want to hang out in an airport, if I can visit somewhere fun.
adding: also during those CA travel years, I ended up partying with a lovely flight crew in an awful hotel in the middle of a blizzard. And another time taking a train home, from a city with which I was familiar, but gallantly accompanied by a very insistent older gentleman who clearly didn’t think I had a clue what I was doing and was very concerned. We had been on the same plane and had the same idea to just take the train when weather made flying impossible from where we had landed. He was nice company.
I have several bad airport stories, but one of the worst was some years back when I was traveling alone with my two youngish kids from LA to Memphis to visit my mother. First of all we showed up at LAX to find out that our Continental flight was delayed by maybe an hour or so. Okay, that’s not terrible, even though we had to make a connection in Houston. I think at that point it was early enough in the day that I figured if we missed our connection we’d be able to get on a later flight. So time passed and pretty soon I was thinking we should be boarding, but instead they announced a gate change and gave us no further information. All of the passengers trooped over to the new gate and we kept waiting. We were never given much more information other than that there were operational/mechanical problems and they were trying to get another plane. So we waited and waited. Eventually they gave everyone vouchers for lunch when it was clear we wouldn’t be taking off any time soon. We watched flights to Houston that were scheduled after ours leave on time, but they were full so we couldn’t get on them. It was incredibly frustrating. After a plane finally became available and after another gate change, I thought we would finally board, but no, because now there was no available crew! The crew showed up after another hour or so, so we finally boarded and were starting to leave the gate when we suddenly stopped and went back to the gate because some kind of alarm had gone off. There was some mechanical problem with a door not closing properly so they had to get maintenance to come and fix it. Of course, by this time it was at least six hours after we were supposed to leave. I am a nervous flyer even in the best of circumstances, so the door problem was making me freak out a bit, and I wondered if somehow we weren’t meant to make the trip. It was all I could do to hide my nervousness from my kids, who had really been troopers through the whole thing up to that point. Anyway, seven hours after we were scheduled to leave, we finally took off, with me thinking the whole time that something else bad would happen. Of course, by that time it was questionable whether we’d be able to make it on the last flight out to Memphis. Sure enough, when we got to Houston we were out of luck. The airline put us up in a hotel, but what my kids and I remember the most is waiting for the shuttle to the hotel for a loooong time in the hot and humid Houston weather, even though it was 10:00 at night by this time. And we had no luggage, because it had been checked through at LAX to Memphis and couldn’t be retrieved. We were booked on the next flight out early the next morning, which meant that I got hardly any sleep that night. Of course, the kids look back at the whole thing as a great adventure and still remember their experience getting donuts at the airport the next morning. Every time we fly through Houston we still mention that experience, which thankfully has never been repeated.
Mine is more an airplane story but has airports involved. Aug 31, 1988 I’m about to leave on a trip from Houston to Anchorage with a friend to meet our husbands who are working there and spend the weekend. On the news I hear that a plane has crashed in Dallas killing 14 of the 108 people on board. It is the same flight number we will be taking the next day from Dallas to Salt Lake City. We confirm that the flight will still go the next day. The girl I’m flying with is terrified of flying and has only done it once before. Good start right?
Ok, next day we get to Dallas, change planes to Delta flight 1141. We get to the gate and there are CNN reporters all around us. Apparently 6 survivors of the crash the day before are on the plane. We are in first class with the 6 survivors. They are telling us about what happened and how there was a big shaking just before the crash. They were joking that this had to be the safest flight ever because nothing happens to the same flight two days in a row. We taxi for take off and the plane starts shaking violently, front wheel hops a bit and brakes pretty much slam on. We are now sitting at near the end of the runway, people near us shaking and crying and the captain (Named Measles) comes on and tells us that he doesn’t know how to tell us but we had a compressor stall and he had to abort the take-off. It took forever to get back to some special gate separated from others. We are all escorted off with CNN cameras shooting all around us. They bussed us all to another plane and eventually we got to Salt Lake (minus about half of the survivors who decided to take a bus), missed our connection, sat in that airport forever and finally got on to Alaska.
Meanwhile we have gotten word to our husbands who were in a meeting. They all turned on the TV and saw us on CNN. They met us in Anchorage with roses!
Well, my favorite 3 stuck in airport stories:
The happiest one for me and H and our kids was the time we were voluntarily bumped and agreed to take the later flight from SFO to HNL. We were given meal vouchers and each got $400 or so certificate toward future travel. Our “later flight” ended up landing BEFORE the flight we voluntarily agreed to be bumped from. The folks who were on our original flight just sat on the tarmac and weren’t offered any food or other compensation. I felt bad for them, but relieved that we were spared that.
Another time, we were all flying different airlines from HNL to LAX. S flew United, D flew Hawaiian and H & I were flying American. Both S and D got to LAX as scheduled but H and I were told something was wrong with our plane and we were offered a hotel for several days until there was a flight with seats to get us from HNL to LAX or cab fare home and back to the airport. We opted for the cab fare and I was able to persuade them to get us seats on the SAME flight the very next day, as we were moving D into her dorm to start college and a January transfer student. Fortunately, my best friend was able to pick our kids up at the LAX airport, feed them dinner and then drop them off at S’s apartment.
The 1st time I was stuck in the airport, I was in Billings, MT. It started off with predictions of snow but the weather was still clear. They insisted we wait on the plane until ALL the other flights landed so they could have one full plane to get from Billings to Bozeman. In the meantime, the weather got worse and worse until it was a raging blizzard and they grounded all planes, closed the airport and shut down all rental counters. We were given vouchers for a meal and hotel room but no way to get from the airport on the hill to the hotel. I bribed the car rental lady with a box of chocolate covered macademia nuts to take us down the hill to the hotel on her way home, so we in the one carload were the only people who got to sleep in a hotel bed that night. The next morning, a taxi or shuttle drove us back to the airport. I’ve always carried edible bribes with me since that experience.
Flying back from visiting D on study abroad in Martinique, my flight from San Juan to Miami was cancelled for some mysterious reason. But passengers were given a room at the airport hotel and the first flight out in the morning. Heaven! I had a terrible cold, was sleep deprived and thrilled to not spend hours more flying that day. I napped, then took a van so I could walk the nearest beach. The beach was wide and beautiful, the people sweet and tolerant of my fractured Spanish. Both were less intimidating than Martinique. I fell in love with Puerto Rico that day, and look forward to returning at some point.
This is more stuck in city, but the planes were not flying. I visited an old friend in Maine, and then was scheduled to fly from Boston to London to visit family. I got a ride from a friend of a friend to Boston, had a floor to sleep on the night before, and was flying to London in the evening. There was rumor of a possible air traffic controller strike. I wandered Boston and Cambridge that day, and called the airport to check on my flight before getting on the MTA to the airport. The agent said, no problem, I asked her to check a second time, she gasped and said all flights were cancelled. The strike was on! 1981. I was stuck in Boston, knew no one, and was traveling to Europe and Asia with very limited funds post graduation. Hotels were expensive to my Arizona standards. A room was found in the YWCA in a questionable part of town, and I camped out there for a few nights till the strike was over. Sightseeing alone was enjoyable but it was one of the loneliest few days ever, as it seemed a decidedly unchatty city. London was warm and welcoming in comparison. Perhaps Boston has changed. I haven’t been back since.
We were off to meet son in Belgium after his study abroad there for a vacation. Supposed to fly from Atlanta to Belgium with plenty of time from initial airport to Atlanta. I thought.
I vowed to have a less nerve-wracking travel experience than in the past so finally got husband to agree to leave a bit early so we could eat lunch and not worry about getting through security etc. Great lunch. Easy security and all downhill afterwards.
First the plane we were supposed to get on was delayed coming in. And then it turned out to be a veteran’s flight. I think everyone on the flight was in a wheelchair and it took over another hour before everyone was off. Still good I thought if we leave soon.
The weather was moving in on Atlanta airport. But didn’t look too bad on radar. We finally boarded. Sat awhile–just long enough for the flight crew to have to leave. Another 30 min for change.
Pilot announces we’re finally going and even though the weather isn’t great he figures as long as we get in line for take-off we’ll get in the air. So we taxi out. Then sit some more.
Nope–no go. Called back in. Taxi back to gate. By this time I figure only hope is plane in Atlanta is delayed.
Now what? We sit some more at gate and finally the flight attendants say you can get off the plane until it’s figured out. H gets off. I stay just in case.
Few minutes later a flight attendant comes down the aisle and says “if it were me, I’d be on the phone looking for another flight”. People whip out their phones and call Delta to switch flights. Some get through. Others dash for desk line to book new flight. I book it to get to H–he’s already in a long line. Way back.
Finally occurs to me that we could get a flight out of NY to Belgium. H whips out iPad (he NEVER takes it but did this time TG!) We find a flight to NY (where we can connect to Belgium). It leaves in 15 MIN from another gate.If we miss that it’ll be 3 more days and flying through other countries vs our direct flight.
I run to front of line and grab the desk guy by the collar (honestly it felt that way) and say WE HAVE to get on that plane (sorry to butt in line but that’s two people who will be happy vs the rest of the angry mob who aren’t going anywhere anyway).
He couldn’t find the flight on his computer–good thing for iPAD–I gave him the flight number and everything. He said you’ve got a whole 10 min before plane takes off.
First question–did you check baggage? No–all carry-on (I didn’t realize if you checked you’d be sunk). He said. grab your bags! And RUN!!
We RAN full speed down the longest ramp ever (longest I’ve ever been on), grabbed bags and RAN to another gate. (Sorry to everyone we knocked over on the way!) We arrived huffing and puffing (I need to work out but it’s amazing what adrenaline can do for you).
They were about to close the doors (think the desk guy called them ahead). Last people on plane–everyone else seated and ready to go. Sigh of relief–that’s what I get for wanting an uneventful trip.
(getting the connection in NY was a piece of cake–everything was easy after that ordeal).
Several years ago I was stuck in Phoenix airport for 8-9 hours. The plane’s toilet had to be fixed.
Many “stuck” stories, but this is the only positive experience I’ve ever had.
We honeymooned in Bermuda, early '80s, the transport situation may have changed since then. Reluctantly reported to the airport to end our stay to be told that all flights, both in and out of the island, were canceled. A small plane had crashed at the intersection of the only two runways. No fatalities or serious injuries, but the wreckage would need to be documented and cleared. So, we, along with every traveler expecting to fly out of the island returned to our hotels for an extra night. Since there were no arriving vacationers, the hotels were glad to see us return.
Compared to some of these stories… I have been very lucky despite years of business travel and family vacation travels. This will date me as it was when TWA was still in business and their hub was St. Louis. I had to fly from JFK through St. Louis to Albuquerque to get a van to travel to conference in Santa Fe… in the winter. So older d was a baby and I was home with her until sitter arrived as I had late afternoon flight on something like MLK Jr Day as it was brutally cold. Cab to JFK where we waited as plane had to be de-iced twice. Never had been concerned about flying before but all I could think of was how comfy I was at home with my baby and regretting that I was back at work and having to fly away for business travel. Finally plane takes off and we land in St. Louis with about 15 minutes to spare. Made it to flight to Albuquerque by running through airport and for some reasons I had to bring this big portfolio case with me for some presentation that someone was giving. Made it to Albuquerque of course I knew no luggage would have made the flight. Not a place in the airport open at that point to buy anything one might need. In fact the airport was shutting down for the night and I had to wait on some bench outside to get this van to pick me up to be driven to Santa Fe. Clearly this was pre-cell phone days. Finally get to Santa Fe after midnight, got a toothbrush and toothpaste from hotel. Had to wash my hair with a bar of soap in the morning and I must have had to wear my jeans to company board meeting as my luggage did not show up until later that day, just in time to change clothes for board dinner.
Younger d had an experience leaving to go to summer internship at art program she had attended in France, about 6 hours west of Paris. So you had to meet the bus in the Paris airport for group departure by 11 AM. Was flying British Air from JFK changing planes in Heathrow. So she tells DH and I not to bother waiting with her and parking, just drop her and thankfully we decided to park and see her through security to wave goodbye. We get to British Air and the entire terminal is in chaos. None of the kiosks were working and while that was bad enough, British Air changed their baggage restrictions and everyone’s luggage was open and people had to remove items to drop the weight. This was on Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, pretty busy place. So everyone had to repack bags and you had to purchase in cash a British Airways carry-on bag which we had to do at another area of the British Airways terminal and repack. Huge line to get through security and they start calling people off the line to make their flights. She boards flight and her seat was relatively toward back of plane which was of course delayed. Plane is landing in Heathrow and she and someone else making same connection to Paris ask if they can deplane first ahead of the crowd but that didn’t happen. She makes connection by running through Heathrow which is of course huge and not happy place to have to do so. Lands in Paris but clearly her luggage as not making this flight. Makes her bus to travel westward. British Airlines did not manage to deliver her luggage for several days by some kind of courier as this was tiny town. I was able to track luggage status online as she could never connect with them by phone. Needless to say we avoid British Airlines like the plague and would never send anyone through Heathrow again. Actually her original flight had been through Manchester where she had changed planes previously but that flight was cancelled and she had been rebooked on the Heathrow connection.
Two stories about quick thinking Alaska Air folks.
Flight BLI - HNL. I was flying there after my last final to join Mr. who was already there attending a meeting. Got upgraded to first class, yay. Almost ready for takeoff - and the overhead bin above row 2 would not close. Broken latch! There are no parts to fix it or a spare plane to fly (it is BLI, after all). Everyone freaks out that we will have to miss a day in paradise. Then the mechanics come up with a solution! Everyone pulls their luggage out of the bin and restuffs it in other bins/under the seats, and the mechanics tape the bin shut with super duper uber duty duct tape. We are on the way to maitais and sunshine!
Flight PHX - SEA. Everyone is in their seats, but the plane is still at the gate. Apparently, catering forgot to load drinking water! The FA announced that we would wait for a few minutes for them to bring the water. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty… no catering in sight. Then the pilots say “hang on folks”, run out to the little store across the gate, and come back with bags of water bottles. We are on our way.
I’m a fiction writer, and so are lots of my friends. When we get stuck in airports, we write stories about it.
Google to see if you can find “Lost in the Fog” by Martin Shoemaker. It’s a fog-bound, stuck at the airport story. So is “Departure Gate 34B” and another one - I can’t remember the title - where a freak ice storm strands people in an airport, then a mysterious gas slowly turns them all to zombies.
I just remembered this one from when my wife worked for a major airline and I was able to fly for free (essentially free had to pay the taxes). I know how bod could it be for free, first world problems.
Flying free was always a crap shoot in terms of there being an empty seat so all trips had a bit of drama but this one was particularly fun. I was heading home from the west coast and had to connect through Denver. Our flight was delayed and I missed the connection and there was only one way I was going to get home, going to Kansas City and changing planes to get home. Not ideal but I would make it back in time for work the next day.
The airline was in a negotiation with the various unions at the time and my wife was one of the lead negotiators so I was very careful not to mention what she did for the airline to avoid conflicts with disgruntled union members. When I arrived in Denver I went to the counter explained the situation and told the attendant exactly which flights I was looking to take. I had never had a problem but this attendant refused to put me on the flight as he said the connection in Kansas City was too close. I agreed that I was fine with the risk and would rather be stuck in KC than Denver but he would have none of it. I suspected he knew my wife’s name and it was pay back time.
I decided to hang out next to the attendant and keep trying as I had no other option. About 10 minutes later an off duty flight attendant walked up and tried to book the same flights I had and was allowed to book. I overheard, said I want the same thing and the attendant refused me again. The flight attendant had not walked away yet, overheard and forced the issue to get me on the flight. We sat and talked during our wait and through both flights, he was a great guy and could not figure out why the gate agent gave me such a hard time. I never let on my suspicions and I have always wondered if he had known that my wife was negotiating against his union if he would have stood up for me the way he had.
Oh … the trip home from the 2007 Caroline D. Bradley seminar in Orlando is permanently etched in my memory. We had a 2:40 flight to Dallas-Ft. Worth and then on to SF. The incoming plane was delayed, and we waited and waited … and waited. Other flights landed and took off, but our plane (coming from Newark) had been delayed leaving and circled overhead Orlando (the pilot reportedly felt the winds were too strong for him/her to land, and I’m certainly not going to question that safety decision) until it ran low on fuel and had to divert to Tampa to fuel up again. Fortunately, we were flying carry-on and made stand-by for another flight, but our connecting flight to SF had left by the time we took off from Orlando and we got in too late for the one after that. The folks in Dallas were sympathetic but not very helpful — and extremely pessimistic about the chances of anyone making it on the only remaining flight to SF that night, since (a) it was overbooked from the beginning, and (b) American had made an “equipment change” to a smaller plane (meaning that there were about 20 people originally on the flight who would be hoping to get on and the odds of us making it were slim). We took a chance and went over to a JetBlue gate where an Oakland flight was loading, and the gate agent said she thought she could accommodate two of us, so I asked her to get wife & daughter on and said I was okay with spending the night in the terminal. Well, they were able to board, and then the agent called me up at the last minute, and I was homeward bound as well – and a nice passenger who had been sitting next to D and had heard our sad tale volunteered to swap seats with me so we could sit together on the way home. Our car was in San Francisco, of course, and we had to take a cab home and then I had to go get the car the next day, but we were still better off than some of the folks at the seminar – especially the ones who had checked their bags and then made other arrangements (assuming that their luggage would be safe) and were later called by a woman in Orlando who had found their (rifled) bags in her yard, since American had just left offloaded them and left them in baggage claim for anyone to walk off with.
Holy cow. And I thought I have had problems. You guys are troopers.
My husband had taken a middle school age lacrosse team – of 23 kids and 46 pieces of luggage including lacrosse equipment to Disney World for spring training via air. While there, a major New England snowstorm cancelled their homeward flights. They had to stay an extra two days – and still could not get the whole group on a flight together. Eventually, they were booked on a flight to Atlanta, changed planes, flew to DC National where they took the rapid transit to the Amtrak station. Unable to get the whole group on one train to Connecticut, the coaches split the group and took two groups via rail to Connecticut where the parents picked them up at the train station. Every child and every piece of luggage accounted for. Compliments from the other passengers about the well behaved group.
In the mean time, I’d been in London visiting our semester-abroad son, and my husband was supposed to pick me up at Kennedy, but he was still in Orlando. I ended up getting a cab to a hotel near our home, staying overnight at the hotel, and a neighbor picked me up the next morning. Our driveway (long, steep) had not been plowed, and I was not about to tackle getting into the house at midnight.
My son, on his first solo flight from college. Spirit Airlines. Flight was delayed. Delayed again. And again. He was at the airport in Cleveland for 12 hours, buying meals with the vouchers they kept giving him. Then the flight was cancelled and they were hauled off to a hotel, his first overnight stay in his own room. He loved it. The next morning, Spirit retrieved the passengers, but again, kept cancelling their flight. After a total of 36 hours, we finally got our son home on Jet Blue.
We joke about Spirit now, but my son developed serious airport skills from that experience and is now a pro traveler, at least in the US. And now that he’s 21, he tries to time things so that he can have a beer at an airport bar.
I just have to say…every time I look at this thread title… think it says STORES…not stories.
I just couldn’t imagine writing about airport stores!