In lieu of your regularly scheduled day-before-Thanksgiving post, I bring you the following guest-entry from my wonderful wife, who will be regaling you with the tale of her torturous trip home from Las Vegas to Harrisburg.  It was too entertaining NOT to share.

The following is the body of an email Dee sent today to her friends that were on the trip with her:

Hey!
 
Let's have a contest to see who had the worst experience on their trip home.
 
Let's see, after taking off on the Delta flight from Vegas, we circled for about a half hour.  The pilot then came on and said that the reason why we were circling was that they noticed after taking off that some of the wing flaps used to slow the plane on landing were not working and we were going to have to make an emergency landing.  We circled for about 30 more minutes to burn off fuel so we wouldn't go up in a fiery ball on impact.  Meanwhile people were getting hysterical.  (Except for the drunk English guys who were laughing and singing).  I ain't gonna lie, I was a little teary.
 
The pilot then came on to say that he was going to attempt a landing at a higher than usual speed and to not be alarmed by the fire trucks and ambulances we would see racing toward the airplane while we were landing.  After scaring the everloving shit out of all of us, the landing was fine, just a lot faster and bumpier than we were used to.   We sat on the tarmac for another 30 minutes or so while the brakes cooled.  They were worried the brakes might catch on fire, apparently they didn't give a shit about the passengers that might go up in the inferno.
 
We were on one of those huge planes (9 seats on each row), so ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE had to deal with some VERY bitchy gate agents to try to get the hell out of Vegas.  (Except for the English guys, they didn't care, they just kept drinking).  Needless to say I missed my connection and had to stay in Atlanta last night.  Sooo, I just got back to Harrisburg at around noon today, instead of at 10 PM last night like planned.
 
Sooo, unless anyone still hasn't made it home, I WIN! 
 
(And I'm not even bringing up the creepy guy who hit on me on the hotel shuttle in Atlanta.)
 
In the words of the drunk English guys on my doomed flight:
 
Cheers!
Dee

I'll be sure to share with Dee any comments you have commiserating her oh-so-fun flight home.  We would LOVE to hear any other airline horror stories you might have, too!


[NaBloPoMo 2008 – #26/30]

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