My boyfriend and I are travelling for a holiday abroad. As we are not going for too long, we take one suitcase between us and a rucksack. We are waiting by the gate, and [Boyfriend] goes to get us some water while I look after the bags.

A few minutes later, one of the airline staff members starts moving around and talking to people. I’m not paying much attention until she grabs my bag, lifts it, and barks something in German, which I don’t understand. She has now rubbed me the wrong way, but I tell her I don’t speak German.

Airline Worker: “Your bag is too heavy; it needs to be checked in.”

Me: “Oh, okay, I’ll move some stuff into the rucksack, then.”

Obviously, I’m trying to avoid time waiting at the baggage carousel.

Airline Worker: “How many bags do you have?”

Me: “The suitcase and my boyfriend’s rucksack.”

Airline Worker: “Oh, there are two of you?”

Me: “Yes, can you give me a minute to sort this out?”

Airline Worker: “No, it has to go into the hold. There is not enough space in the plane.”

Now I am really annoyed. Which is it? Either my bag is too heavy (which I can remedy to some degree by shifting the weight between the bags) or there is no space as the flight is full (which isn’t my fault, and therefore, I’d expect some slight conciliation from the airline when this occurs). Either way, I now face the outcome of waiting at the other end for my bag rather than going straight through the airport. I grab the other rucksack and start moving things like my laptop and documents into there that cannot go into hold baggage.

[Boyfriend] then arrives and asks what is happening. Obviously, this takes a few minutes, and the woman is getting annoyed that I haven’t immediately gotten up and moved.

Airline Worker: *Exasperated* “You need to check your bag in.”

Me: “And I will do that once I’ve taken out things that can’t go in the hold.”

That makes her quiet. I join the queue standing at what I think is a reasonable distance (being British and not wanting to look like I’m trying to overhear the group in front). 

Airline Worker: “You need to step forward to join the queue.”

I didn’t see where this woman is coming from as people were now standing behind me. I just shrugged and waited. A couple of minutes later, the bag had a tag on it and the woman was still giving me the stink-eye.

It’s Sunday. I am set to fly out for a work trip for a couple of days. I go to the counter to get my ticket.

Desk Attendant: “May I see your ID?”

I give it to them.

Desk Attendant: “Okay, traveling to [City]?

Me: “Yes.”

Desk Attendant: “All right, here is your boarding pass. Are you checking any bags?”

Me: “Just this one.”

The desk attendant checked my bag and I made my way through security. I realized I didn’t remember my gate, so I pulled out my boarding pass to check. Then, I realized something was… off. The departure time said 04:45. It was currently 10:30. It also had Monday’s date.

Confused, I went to the gate to speak with the gate attendant. I came to find out that my original flight had been canceled and I had been rescheduled. However, I had never received any notification about either change. To make matters even more stressful, my luggage had been checked and put on another flight.

Fortunately, my work’s travel office was able to book me on another flight that day, and my luggage was waiting for me at my final destination. But how so many people missed the fact that I was apparently checking in for a flight almost twenty-four hours early is mind-boggling.

I’m one of three Disrupted Operations Supervisors (DOS) for my airline, which means when something goes wrong with a flight at my airport, I’m the final authority. For some stupid reason, headquarters (HQ) decided that at my airport, there has to be a supervisor on duty twenty-four hours a day, even when it’s closed. (I tried to find the logic in this but I gave up.)

I was picked for the night shift — 20:00 to 6:00 — despite my functions, due to scheduling isues.

One day, an executive at HQ summons us DOS to an emergency meeting there on the day of a major holiday, requiring two of us to fly there from our respective bases.

I’m supposed to end my shift and go on vacation that day, so I try to convince HQ to let me video conference in order to save them money and time on my part — both via phone and email with cost estimates. I’m told no way: be there or be fired.

Since the earliest flight leaves one hour after I clock off, I don’t have to actually clock off. I catch the flight — ninety minutes — arrive there, and wait for three hours to have a thirty-minute meeting with a young executive, who tells us he’s our new boss and that we have to run everything by him now. After that, I go to the airport, wait another two hours, catch my flight back home, clock off, and go on vacation.

The cost of this little power trip to the company, you ask?

Total number of my hours: nine hours and thirty minutes paid at twice the usual rate due to the holiday, multiplied by three due to vacation interruption, and multiplied by one and a half for out-of-base work. It came to 2565€.

Travel expenses, including meals: 450€.

So, just because a moron had to have a little moment of dominance over three women, I got an extra 3015€.

I was booked for a 7:00 am flight from Birmingham International, and I was told by the airline to arrive at least two hours beforehand. Paranoid about arriving late, I turned up three hours early.

And when I got there, I learned that the [Airline] flight check-in desk opens at 6:00 am.

When we eventually boarded, at 8:00 am, I overheard another passenger say:

Passenger: “Why do they even call it a 7:00 am flight to Paris? It always boards at 8:00!”

I was waiting in a very long zig-zag line for US border patrol, trying to be as patient as possible. A man waiting in line behind me passed by three times, each time making it no secret that he was staring at my chest. I was wearing a plain black T-shirt, not showing anything lower than my collarbone.

The first time, I told myself I was imagining it. The second time, I stared at him until he looked away. The third time, he pulled his phone out and pointed it right at me.

Me: *Loudly* “Can I help you?”

Man: *Startled* “I’m just trying to read your shirt!”

Me: “It’s blank!”

Man: “Jesus, you’re a self-centered b****.”

We had attracted the attention of one of the border patrol agents.

Border Patrol Agent: “What’s going on here?”

Man: “I’m just trying to read her shirt!”

Border Patrol Agent: “…it’s blank.”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Border Patrol Agent: *Sighs* “Sir. Just stop.”

Man: “Bunch of f****** prudes.”

Me: “He took a picture.”

Man: “It’s a free country!”

Border Patrol Agent: “Okay, miss, come with me.”

I got out of line and the agent did my checkpoint questioning without incident, probably saving me at least half an hour of waiting. Thankfully, the man was not on my flight.