This flight wasn’t really hellish, just funny.
When I was in college in Ohio in the ’80’s, I would fly home to Connecticut for Christmas via La Guardia to our local small airport. The now-defunct airline that I took from LGA to Connecticut was called Pilgrim Airlines, and they flew a fleet of small turboprops; Twin Otters and ATRs and the like.
On one trip, the tired old Twin Otter was full, mostly with drunk twentysomethings on their way home for the holidays. The cockpit actually had a curtain rather than a door, and it was open as I sat down. The pilot was eating a popsicle as he and the FO went through their preflight. He then ate what remained of the popsicle, tossed the stick on the floor and started the engines. The flight was loud and the drunks were singing and generally being drunks.
I picked up an old Reader’s Digest that happened to be in the seat pocket and began reading a “Drama in Real Life” story. It was about a plane crash. Of a DeHavilland Twin Otter. Flown by Pilgrim Airlines! In the story, the plane apparently iced up and made a crash landing, after which it caught on fire. Wonderful!
Fortunately, we made it to our destination, Groton-New London airport, fine. The airport is tiny, and you deplane via airstairs. As I was leaving the plane, I saw the flight attendant, pilot and FO unloading the bags from the plane and loading them onto a cart, which would then be wheeled into the terminal so passengers could get their bags. I saw my black duffel bag on the cart and asked the pilot if I could just take it rather than wait for the cart to be wheeled into the terminal, to which he replied “Go ahead, I don’t care. I hate this job.”