For all you Doctor Who fans out there, “this is the story of how I [almost] died” (sorry, couldn’t resist).
It started out like a normal enough trip to the airport. We took a taxi to BCN, went through security, and decided to head to our gate. Little did Brad and I know what was in store for us. The “gate” number on the ticket was not, in fact, a gate number, but an “area designation” - meaning we were told which wing of terminal to wait in until they would announce at a later time where our flight was leaving from. We still had plenty of time, so we got breakfast, fully assuming that when we were done eating, we’d know what gate to go to.
Long story short, 10 minutes before the flight is supposed to leave, we still haven’t been told where the gate is, and we go looking frantically for an easyJet representative (we never found one). Finally, 5 minutes before the flight, there was an announcement saying the flight was delayed for an hour - and the gate number appeared on the monitor.
That should be a nice happy end to the story, but not so. We get to the “gate” (uh-oh - I’m putting “gate” in quotes again!), and it turns out that it’s a level below all the other gates. “Oh,” I thought to myself, “I guess we’ll be taking ‘air stairs’ up into the plane instead of a jetway.” I was right, but I missed one important part. The airstairs would be located about a mile away from the “gate”, and we’d have to take a bus. They crammed about 50 passengers into this tiny bus contraption (standing room only), and took us to the plane.
Once again, you think that we’re at the happy ending, but really, my life-threateining adventure hadn’t even started yet.
About an half an hour away from Paris, the fasten seatbelt light comes on. As per usual, a few of the more weak-hearted people get a little scared, but after a few minutes, everyone settles back down. Then all of a sudden, the most violent turbulence I’ve ever experienced rocks the plane up and down, side to side, and every which way, lasting in intervals of 15-30 seconds. Half of the people on the plane start crying, the other half start laughing. The spurts of turbulence continue for about five minutes, during which this woman sitting in the aisle next to me must have clutched her chest not less than a hundred times.
Two girls we met on the plane, Kim and Renee (who happen to be from Orange County) had a video camera, and were documenting everything that was going on. It was quite something to watch after we’d landed. If Kim and Renee ever email me like they promised, you might get to see the video…
The saddest part of the whole thing is that as a bunch of us discussed the flight afterwards, we agreed that easyJet sucked, but that we’d fly it again because it’s so darn cheap.
Coming shortly - Paris Day One.
Posted on Sunday, July 9th, 2006 at 11:16 am. Categories: Adventures, Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can also leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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