The worst flight of my life

I usually write about fun travel stuff and places that I’d love to visit again. For a moment, my mind went back to the worst flight of my life and the worst airline seat, ever. By the way, this image isn’t of that seat, but it comes pretty darn close in my opinion.

It all began in Cairo, Egypt. This is a city that is crammed with millions of people, going to and fro every moment of every single day. It’s bedlam everywhere. Even a simple taxi ride becomes something that at every moment you fear instant death, or at the least becoming a part of some massive traffic jam.

Anyway, imagine my happiness about finally heading to the airport, and home. After another rocket-ride, I was deposited at the airport with no real idea of where the departure area was. Inside was another riot of people all talking at the top of their voices rushing from counter to counter. Hey, so far a typical day in Cairo.

I’ll skip the process of getting through their immigration and customs. Safe to say, it was another epic adventure. I arrived at the departure gate with my crumpled boarding pass, only to be told the flight was oversold (who knew?) and I’d have to wait for a seat. To protest was fruitless, to say the least.

At the end of this process, someone finally gave me a boarding pass, and I headed to the aircraft. Knowing what I do now, I should have volunteered to stay behind for another flight or another week. Alas, I went into the aircraft and was met by a teeming mob, all trying to cram their life possessions into any possible remaining space. I joined the scrum and spied one empty seat, the one assigned to me. Just my luck.

My seat was at the beginning of a row of middle seats located at the aircraft bulkhead. Which means that the wall was about 6 inches away from the edge of my seat. There was no way to lean back or put my feet up, even a few inches. And this wasn’t the worst part.

While I had an aisle on my left side, there were two aircraft lavatories against the bulkhead ahead of me. The doors of these lavatories were about 3 feet away from me. From the moment the seat belt sign came off, hordes of people rushed forward to use one of the bathrooms. It was like a tidal wave of people, all dying to use the lavatories at the same time.

Of course, they congregated in the small aisle and lavatory area, jabbering and yelling like they were negotiating for something in a local bazaar. Again, bedlam. And, I was about 2 feet away from the center of this action, trapped in my eternally uncomfortable seat.

For the entirety of the flight, the aisle was crammed with people, and the lavatories occupied continually. It’s a miracle that the equipment worked at all. There must have been tons of refuse in their tanks.

It was as if I was seated on a broken chair in front of a public toilet for 12 hours. Now that gave economy seating a new perspective. I hated every single second of that flight. It became a test of my will to keep from screaming out in frustration. Although, had I done so it’s unlikely anyone would have noticed.

On arrival at JFK airport, the second the aircraft doors were opened, I ripped through people, bags, kids, and debris for the exit. I couldn’t wait another moment. I still remember bursting out of the plane gasping for air and thrilled that at last, I was free from that confinement. It seemed like the tube of the aircraft spit me out and down the exit stairs at last. But you know, none of that mattered to me anymore.

I was back in the United States of America.