I don’t think you’ve ever heard of a route like the one I experienced a few days ago: I flew from London to… London!!!
What the f&%$, you’ll say. That’s what we, the ones on the plane, said too. Some even said more, as they missed their connection for a flight over the Ocean.
BRITISH AIRWAYS
Every time I go to London, I fly with British Airways. (A few years ago, I flew with Tarom from time to time; Wizz is out of the question here, especially since the ticket with British, including a 23 kg bag, costs me less than a Wizz ticket with 20 kg, and it drops me off at an airport where I can immediately take the subway.)
Everything was good before departure and at the airport. We all get on the plane – it’s a full flight – and we wait patiently to take off. And we wait… Until we’re told that, due to conditions at Heathrow Airport (fog and wind), several landings have been delayed/diverted, and well, here we are, waiting our turn.
We take off about 40 minutes late. Well, that’s fine, I’m not in a hurry. But by now, I’ve already gotten bored sitting in the seat, and we still have 3 hours of flying ahead…
On the plane, only a few passengers begin to calculate if this delay will make them risk missing their connection to the next flight. It’s okay, they calm down, as they still have plenty of time between the two flights.
We left Bucharest in fog and rain, and when we reached London, the sun was already showing its muscles in front of the clouds below us.
We start to circle around. And we keep circling…
After making another loop in the sky above London, the captain announces that we will land, but… not here, a little further away, at Luton Airport!!! We ran out of fuel and can’t circle anymore. A seatmate rightly comments: “Well, looks like the fool got a flat tire” hahaha.
More passengers than during the first delay (the one in Otopeni) start showing signs of worry; they’re talking to each other about their American tickets, how many have long layovers, and who’s at risk of missing their connection…
We land at Luton.
A new wave of passengers starts to panic: those people who fall asleep even before takeoff and wake up exactly when the plane touches down. Now, they’re like little flowers, shocked when they find out where we are.
And from here, the hustle begins. A few head to the front, to the lead flight attendant. They’re checking connections on his tablet. Many passengers have already done this on their own phones, some upset because they can’t find any available seats anywhere, neither today nor tomorrow!
In my vicinity, hope still exists: people still have time to catch their connection if the person with the fuel canister arrives quickly.
We get up, most of us. We stretch our bones, walk around, constantly making room for the flight attendants, who are being called from all directions.
A gentleman wants to get off. He says his final destination is London and he only has hand luggage. However, no one is allowed to disembark. We are all stuck on the plane, on the ground.
The captain comes out. A few passengers rush to him to share their concerns, to ask for solutions… Others step into the aisle and call the flight attendants, even scolding them. Now, come on, what’s their fault?… “You didn’t tell us in time”, I hear someone replying.
An elderly lady moves forward with a large bag in her arms, indicating she wants to get off; she has a flight to catch. Although she speaks English well, she struggles to understand that we are, in fact, at the wrong airport, where none of the few planes we can see through the windows will take her to America…
Me, I send a message to a friend at Heathrow to see what he knows. Due to the fog earlier, some flights were redirected to Birmingham or even Amsterdam! Man, can you imagine how it feels to sleep through the whole flight, and when you’re about to land in London, you find out you’re actually in the Netherlands?! 🙂
The waiting is horrible. Some have resigned themselves and buried their heads in their phones, while others (myself included), more out of boredom than necessity, make a visit to the restroom.
With empty bladders, we stroll down the aisle, listening to the connection problems of every seatmate or row mate, depending on which U.S. state they’re supposed to reach. Looking at the clock, some still believe they’ll catch the second flight. Their only doubt now is about the luggage, whether it will make it onto that flight too, as they have necessary medications there! (Well, you don’t think to put your entire pharmacy in your hand luggage, you just take some for a day.) The captain gives them hope when he announces that we’ll fly only 10 minutes back to Heathrow.
But… no one from the gas station in the village shows up. We keep looking out the window.
And again, a wave of questions and pressure on the crew. The captain, poor guy, keeps updating us. I understand about three words at a time, but one thing is clear: “we are waiting for the fueler”. If I had made a bet with my neighbor, I would’ve won. He was sure they already fueled us up, and we were just waiting for a landing slot.
I take a tired selfie and start reading. Here’s a good part of this situation 🙂
And another hour passes…
And again, complaints, again searching for OTHER connections.
We start asking for water. Some probably wish they had some liquor, given how upset they are. It’s clear, they’ve missed their connection.
When we’re given an estimate of half an hour until we leave, the general vocal disappointment almost makes me want to suggest something: “Come on, let’s all get off and push the plane, maybe it’ll start moving…”
Finally, we are informed that, if the person with the fuel doesn’t show up, they will resort to an alternative: we’ll head to Heathrow by bus. “Why couldn’t we do this from the start?!?” someone shouts angrily from the back of the plane. The question remains unanswered.
And just when we were losing all hope, miracleeee! The person who needs to show up comes, puts whatever needs to be put in the plane. (And we kind of squeezed in, what can I say… Just that it doesn’t really help the plane take off.)
Go back to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, apologies, apologies, apologies for being on the ground for 2 and a half hours, but we’re ready to take off, God help us!”
over Windsor Castle
We’re flying at low altitude, mostly among the clouds, my heart in my throat from how much we’re shaking. Then we circle a bit more until we get the green light for landing. Thank God!
Exactly 17 minutes, that’s how long we flew (a 10-minute flight, if we hadn’t been circling). I realized that this was the shortest flight I’ve ever had. To see the glass half full, because if I look at the other side, we arrived in London with a 3 and a half-hour delay!
Speaking of the glass: the only thing missing were the drink glasses in our hands, because we all got off the plane as if we had just come from a party: nearly everyone knew everyone else 🙂
