I should have known better. The morning started out all too smoothly: There was no traffic on the way to the airport, there was a rare parking spot nearby, and security checks were surprisingly quick. My flight to New York was scheduled for 10:00 a.m., and I felt confident. But as any experienced traveler knows, when things go too well, disaster is often lurking just around the corner.
Ten a.m. came and went. The gate agent announced a slight delay due to “maintenance issues.” No big deal, I thought. Better to be safe than sorry. But as the minutes and hours passed, the humming between passengers grew louder. The agent came back on the microphone, apologized, and offered us a $10 meal voucher as a goodwill gesture. Then I started to get worried. If they were to feed us, we would have to wait a long time.
Indeed, the delay dragged on. Around noon, we got a message that the plane needed a spare part that had to be flown in from another city. Scheduled departure time: 3:00 p.m. I could feel a gathering sigh of frustration. Calls were made to rebook plans, and some passengers decided to book entirely new flights. I was tempted, but the flight attendants assured me everything was under control.
Finally, the part arrived at 2:45 p.m. By this point I was running on coffee and a stale bagel, and my energy was waning. But the end was in sight. At least, that’s what I thought.
At 3:30 p.m., after the parts were installed, we started boarding. The plane was small, but after hours spent inside the terminal, it felt like a sanctuary. But as I sat down and the engines revved, they suddenly stopped. The captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing a slight technical issue. We need to get everyone out.”
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