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Comic 23 August 2012; bad planes. no cookie
Topic Started: Aug 23 2012, 01:28 PM (325 Views)
Otter
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Since nothing but misery happens in this comic, let's do Worst Airplane/Airport stories. This one's my sister's:

About 10 years ago, she's flying back from London with her husband on a full plane. Beside them, a German fellow has the window seat. He spent the time prior to takeoff talking in broken English with someone in New York, making plans to catch up with them for a party that night. Then he shuts his phone down, tells my brother-in-law he's about to take a sleeping pill so strong it's illegal, says "See you in New York!", then passes out.

And they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

There was a problem somewhere at the airport; the plane never leaves the gate.

Seven hours later, the German fellow wakes up, stretches, and looks out the window. He says to my brother-in-law, "All airports look the same, yah?"

And then he gets the news.

- Never send a ferret to do a weasel's work.

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Argent
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Emergency Mustelid Hologram
It is a long flight. Now imagine it with two little kids. Hyperactive kids. I swear, if the Nintendo Gameboy hadn't come out just before that trip, we'd never have survived.
Edited by Argent, Aug 24 2012, 02:31 PM.
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yfnsa
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Otter
Aug 23 2012, 01:28 PM
... he's about to take a sleeping pill so strong it's illegal, says "See you in New York!", then passes out.
I was expecting him to die. Missing a party isn't that bad comparatively.
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My Lone Ranger Speedy icon is courtesy of Otter.
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papa smurf
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Scariest: On one flight I was on, the pilot forgot to put the landing gear down. We were probably about 50 feet of the ground when he realized it. He went full throttle and we went up in the steepest climb I've ever been on in a plane, circled around, and then landed normally, with the landing gear down.

On another flight the pilot aborted the takeoff and we ended up about 50 feet from the end of the runway, which would have dumped us into Boston Harbor if he'd waited a second longer. We wound up going back to the terminal and changing planes.

Just recently: I was on an Iberia Air flight in Spain.

This flight had the closest together seats of any flight I have ever been on. I literally could not put my legs together in front of my seat because there was not enough room to wedge my knees.

Unfortunately the seats also fully reclined, which put the back of the seat in front of you literally 3 inches from your nose if you didn't also recline.

Well, across the aisle a guy reclined his seat into the face of the woman behind him, who promptly reclined her seat into the face of the guy behind her. That guy was pretty fat, and with the seat in front of him fully reclined, he could not put his tray table down to put his drink on, because it hit his stomach. And he was not going to take this.

The resulting floor show was pretty amusing.

Thank god that flight was only an hour.
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Otter
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yfnsa
Aug 24 2012, 03:00 PM
I was expecting him to die. Missing a party isn't that bad comparatively.
My brother-in-law tells this story from the point of view of the German, who calls his friend back and says (with accent) "Yah, Franz? I'm still en ze tarmack!"
- Never send a ferret to do a weasel's work.

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Chrysophase2003
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Jealous Reader, Unpublished Writer
Two stories, one in the air and one on the ground, though I don't think they classify as scary so much as hellish.

The first happens when I'm about eleven. My folks want to send me and my younger brother (eight) up to visit our grandparents in Montana. We were living in Florida at the time, so it's a fairly long flight. Since we were so little, they made sure to book us in a direct flight so Mom and Dad put us on the plane and Grandma and Grandpa get us off again. Simple, right?

Technical difficulties in mid-air force the plane to divert to Houston, where we're all kicked off the plane. So I'm standing there, my little brother bawling his eyes out and hanging onto me, in the middle of an intercontinental airport, with about five dollars in my pocket, and this is waaaay before cell phones were common, all while several thousand miles away from a friendly face. Scared shitless.

I'm just glad I paid attention during check-in the first time around. I got to information, explained what happened, was given a ticket, and after about an hour of hunting finally found the right terminal. Then I had to camp there two days until the plane that was supposed to take us to Montana actually became ready. Couldn't call home because the money went to buy food for my brother. I ended up having to steal food for myself (Only learned about collect calls afterward). When we finally got to Montana, turns out the folks had gone berserk and contacted everyone they could to try to find us.

And the funny thing? I'd been kicked out of the Boy Scouts a few months earlier for being "irresponsible".

The mid-air hell was when I was fifteen and taking the same trip. I was placed in coach next to a young 400 pound woman with some form of mental development impairment. Aside from being oozed on the entire flight, after takeoff a water line next to a refrigeration line beneath the floor began to leak. This created a cool mist which rose up from beneath our feet. She thought it was smoke.

This chick started screaming "let me off! Let me off!" while we're in the air, flailing her arms, and inadvertently smacking everyone who came close to her. I caught a black eye as she scrambled past me (crushed my nuts too), then she overturned a flight attendant's drinks cart to get to the door, which she began tugging at while we're at 40,000 feet or so. This was before sky marshals or any of that jazz, and since I was the closest, and frankly mad as hell, while two flight attendants was tugging ineffectually at her arms, I caught her hand, bent her pinky finger back (that drops pretty much anyone), and forced her to the floor until her caretaker could lead her away.

Got applause from the cabin for that one, though I did have to change seats with someone because whats-her-face was afraid of sitting next to "the bad man". Yeesh. I don't like hurting people. But I really wish I knew why it's so often necessary.

Bottom line, I don't go on planes anymore. Weird shit happens when I'm on them.
If you can't live without me, why aren't you dead yet?

I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.

If God wants all the credit, he's getting all the blame.
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Taolan
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So there I was, balls deep.

Just kidding but that's how everybody started their stories back in Basic Training.

I was coming home from said Basic Training at Ft Benning, Georgia. Home of the Infantry and the U.S. Army School of Maneuvers. Flyng out of Atlanta, which is one of the most sensibly arrayed airports I can think of. I say sensible because the main terminal is laid out in a straight line. There's the terminal itself, and then concourses A-E for domestic flights. About half a klick separates each concourse.

There's a railway system that runs the length, as well as mobile walkways and the occasional shuttle cart for VIPs. I had been told by the clerk at booking that I could check one bag there for free, and have the other one as a checked carry-on at the gate for no additional charge. So I had my personal ruck, which probably weighed about twenty-ish pounds, and my duffel with all my clothes and spare boots and such which weighed about forty-five pounds. I get to my gate an hour early, set down my bags, pop in my headphones and spend the next hour in la-la-land. Keep this number in mind, people. 35D.

The story gets interesting when I look at my watch and realise it's ten minutes to my flight. And nobody else is there. I'm worried. Very much so. So I go to the desk and ask what's going on and they say "Oh, we're sorry sir. Your flight was changed to 40B." I blink a moment. "B? as in Bravo?" The lady at the desk nods and smiles. "Yes."

F***.

I say thank you very politely, and as calmly as I can jump to my bags, throw my duffel on my back and my personal bag on my front and take off at a dead run down the concourse to the stairs. I run down the stairs and shoot a glance at the rail station. I just missed the car. Rather than wait for the next car, I take off running as fast and as hard as I can the 1km from that concourse stairwell to the next one. I'm in uniform. And running. People got out of my way, thankfully. Had one near miss with a kid who almost walked out in front of me before his dad smartly grabbed his shoulder. I'm hauling ass, I ran up the stairs, took a quick look around to get my bearings, and tore off down the concourse. I managed to make it... let's see... 150-ish meters from the gate to the stairs, 1km from stairs to stairs, and then another 200 meters from those stairs to the gate. So about 1.5km. I made it in about eight minutes, in uniform, in boots, with 60 pounds of baggage. Amazing what a little motivation will do for ya, eh? I thought I'd made it.

So I get to my gate. Nobody's there, I see a plane, I go to the desk and slap my boarding pass down in front of them and start explaining. The attendant gives me the universal 'calm yourself' hand signal, and I take a breath. "Sir, your flight was delayed by two hours."

Seriously?
It takes an average of forty-three muscles to frown, seventeen muscles to smile...

But only three for proper trigger squeeze.

Si vis pacem, para bellum.
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yfnsa
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Been busy, meant to say ... The cast pic in panel 2 kicks ass!

Most everyone is showing the stain of the long flight but I think Speedy had a german sleeping pill and is now rested and ready for some fun.
YFNSA - Your Friendly Neighborhood System Administrator

My Lone Ranger Speedy icon is courtesy of Otter.
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djheydt
Koala Commander
yfnsa
Aug 28 2012, 01:32 PM
Been busy, meant to say ... The cast pic in panel 2 kicks ass!

Most everyone is showing the stain of the long flight but I think Speedy had a german sleeping pill and is now rested and ready for some fun.
And besides, he's coming home. He *ought* to be happy.

What I notice now, looking at it again, is that Mike's SO (do we know his name?) has a migraine. I recognize that hand-to-the-temple gesture. That side of his head hurts like hell and he wishes he could rub it away but he's afraid if he tries he'll break through his skull or something.

I had migraines from puberty to menopause, and my daughter once successfully impersonated me in a Who-am-I charade by borrowing my headgear and standing there with hand to temple muttering, "I'm sorry, I have to go lie down now."
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