My Delta Airlines Nightmare

This stems back to my trip to Ghana in June 2008.

The day we were to return to the US, there had been rains here in the States, meaning that the Delta flight was two hours late coming from JFK to Accra. The time was not made up on our flight from Accra to JFK. Going through Immigration was as painful as expected but I was comforted slightly by the television screens in the room showing that Spain had beaten Germany in the EuroCup Final. I was in a phase of being angry with Germany.

I then had to pick up my checked baggage, take it through customs, and join a long line of other unfortunate travellers who had missed their connecting flights. When it was my turn up at the counter, I was told there were no further flights to Boston that day. Mind you, it was only about 5 pm. They wanted to put me on a flight to leave the following day. I asked if they would pay for my hotel accommodation as I waited the night and they said no because the flight delay was not their fault. I suppose then that the rains that prevented Delta from flying on time was my fault and I should be punished.

I should mention that my last night in Ghana was marked by a fall into an open gutter that I could not see in the dark.

I was left with a large scrape on the lateral aspect of my right thigh which was now swollen. I couldn’t walk properly secondary to the pain and I had a fever. So this prolonged trip was not exciting for me for many reasons.

I decided that rather than staying in New York, I would have Delta airlines take me to Providence and I would catch the bus to South Station in Boston. This meant that I had to recheck my bags.

Why Delta decided then, with countless other people waiting to recheck their bags, that the bag handlers down there at the check-in counter off customs would go on break is beyond me. Just right then and there. What that meant, was we needed to find our way upstairs to the main check-in area to get our new boarding passes and to leave our bags. Of course as luck would have it only one elevator worked.

Pissed, I slowly and painfully dragged my bag up the stairs, around the airport to the main entrance where I was met with a zoo! It was crazy! There were people at the Delta counter who had just arrived to check in for their flights. Then there were those of us who were already checked in but who needed to drop off our bags. I’m not joking when I say that this zoo was only around the Delta counters. There was just a mass of people and no distinct lines. Just people grumbling and pushing against one another. Almost an hour later, somebody from Delta came around and told those of us waiting to deposit our bags to just leave them there and go. I feared I would never see my bag again.

We boarded the Providence flight on time but instead of taking off, we spent the next two hours waiting our turn to taxi and take off because apparently the rains that day had caused many delays. Needless to say, I didn’t arrive into Providence until well after midnight and by then I had no means to get to Boston unless I hailed a very expensive taxi ride. I ended up frantically calling what remaining friends I had left in Providence, waking them up, and staying with them for the night, before taking the bus to Boston the following day.

Throughout, my thigh throbbed and ached. It took 3 weeks for the hematoma that had developed there to completely resolve. I am so grateful that I didn’t develop an infection. Who knows what kind of nasty things could have been in that gutter.

Relating my story with other travellers who have flown Delta to Ghana, I found that my experiences were not unique. So, that’s why Delta is a no-no for me.