Redditors Share Their Worst Travel Experiences
Traveling is the way of life! I mean, we all have at least that one Dream Destination we want to visit in our lives. For the gallivanter, the world is his/her dream destination. Visiting new places, meeting new people, witnessing their culture, living their lifestyle is what intrigues them.
Whether it be for leisure or for work, we all have traveled places, some of us more than the others. But we all definitely have a memory of the worst trip we’ve been to. Here are 30 Redditors sharing their stories of the Worst Travel Experiences they’ve been through.
Disclaimer: These are some crazy stories, grab your popcorn and enjoy the read.
The Belgium Beer Festival
I was travelling in Bruges, Belgium once and had decided to try to drink as many different beers as I could. When night time came around I was hammered and met with a couple of cute girls and a guy from my hostel who all wanted to go out to a nightclub for drinks and dancing and of course I was all for it.
At this point I was already drunk and don’t remember going out that night. I remember bits and pieces thanks to photos like these. We went out for food and pre-club drinks and because of my earlier drinking (which included a Belgium beer festival) I was already smashed. We finally ended up at a local club that I later found out had a reputation for getting tourists into trouble. I don’t remember the club so I am going to skip to the point where I do remember, waking up.
The next day I woke up with a hangover to end my humanity. I sat up in bed looking around and noticed I had 3 room keys and nothing else. There was 3 things I ALWAYS carried on me: my wallet, my phone and my camera. Also, for some stupid reason I usually keep a “backup” credit card in my backpack at the hostel but I just happened to have it in my wallet this day because I had to use it. I was missing all of these. I searched around my bed, looked under everything and couldn’t find anything. I started to worry and mixed with my hangover I started to puke.
I walked down the stairs into the street in front of my hostel and there was my phone on the ground smashed into a thousand pieces. I don’t even know why. I searched for the small data chip to try to at least save my pictures from the phone but it was lost.
I go into the front office of the hostel where upon entering the girl behind the desk starts laughing at me. I ask her why she is laughing at me and she starts explaining to me how last night I was beyond smashed and that I kept coming to the front desk for a replacement key to my room. Apparently I kept coming back to her because I thought I had lost my key, 3 times(3 room keys), and she thought it was funny so she kept giving me a new one. I didn’t explain to her my situation and decided to go sit out on the curb for a bit. I had lost all my money, credit cards, camera and now my phone was broke.
You ever get that deep gut feeling of just being totally fudged? Stranded in a country with no money, no nothing, at this point I started thinking of how I was going to call my mom or dad and explain to them my trip was over and I needed emergency funds to get home. The whole thought of everything made me puke even more.
Sitting outside on the curb the girls and guy who I went out with walk up to me. Finally I thought I might get some answers as to what happened last night and this is what they told me. Apparently, at the club being as drunk as I was I started dancing with some local girls and drinking more. At another point I had told my friends that I was leaving the club with some random girl I met. They didn’t approve of me leaving and tried to get me to stay but they didn’t know I was blackout drunk because I can put on a decent drunk/poker face, so I ended up leaving with this random girl.
Sitting on the curb listening to all this the girls are laughing at me. I told them about my situation about losing all my stuff, how worried I was and ultimately how screwed I was. That’s when one of my friends takes from her purse my wallet and camera and hands it back! She told me before I left the club last night that I told her something bad was going to happen to me and I needed her to hold my things! I had given her my wallet and camera! Drunk me at least did something right, stupid, but at least it worked. I was so relieved I started puking.
More witnesses I found out also saw me in front of the hostel that night arguing with whom I suppose was the girl I left with from the club. Apparently the girl had smashed my phone because I didn’t have any money to pay for the taxi or any money in general(I think now she was trying to rob me?). But I was drunk enough at this point to irresponsibly hand off my stuff to my friends before which saved me.
So yea, got my stuff back. Lost a phone at the end of it all. So that’s one of my travelling getting “too drunk in Europe” stories.
The Ideal Spot, Jakarta
Travelling in Indonesia, we had just landed in Jakarta and after one night we were headed to an ‘idyllic’ surf spot (near Cijulang) that was meant to be a quiet paradise according to the lonely planet guide.
We had done extensive planning for the trip, although we seemed to have missed that we arrived just as the biggest Muslim festival of the year (ede) was finishing that included some of the only public holidays in the year.
The bus travel from Jakarta to the South Coast took an extra 6 hours, nearly doubling the time due to the traffic on the road.
We arrived and couldn’t find a hotel, being followed by the local mafia that make hotels charge more when they direct you there. Managed to find a suitable place in the end.
Unperturbed the next day my friend and I (the third friend was throwing up all day due to bad food in Malaysia a few days earlier) tried and reach this ‘idyllic’ spot. We find out the only way to get there is along this windy track and the best way is on the back of a moped. So my friend and I (who are both over 6 foot) get this local to drive us there on the back of his moped. This seems like a bad idea already, until we arrived at a bamboo bridge which when driven across with 3 people ends up with a moped falling over. Luckily we didn’t fall in so kept going to this beach.
We arrived to the lovely spot only to find about 15,000 locals that had the same idea
We were the only white people there, also the only people over 5’10. People stared at us, asked to take pictures with us and were generally just confused when they looked at us.
All in all it didn’t go great but imo that’s what makes the difference between an adventure and a holiday
Roofless In Paris
Went to Paris with my buddy for the night in September. Trouble at the hostel around midnight. No place to sleep. Bar/club hopped until about 4. Froze myself off while I slept at a bus stop until we got chased out by a couple of cops. Spent the rest of the night in front of an atm on top of a heat vent. Took the first train back in the morning. Crappy night, great memory.
ATV Island Mafia, Thailand
Rented an ATV on Koh Tao in Thailand on one of my first trips to the islands. Took pictures, blah blah blah … they asked for a passport in trade so my wife sacrificed hers. Well, we brought it back, barely driven and supposedly scratched. They were asking $100 to repair it. I told them to give me my passport. No luck. I reported them to the local tourist police. Turns out they are in on it … trying to negotiate a lower price. It was an island mafia which I would only learn after living here. I asked for an official report, I headed without the passport [not without giving a final warning to the shop] to Bangkok and applied for an emergency one for my wife. We also filed a formal complaint which probably ended up in some trash can. However, funny enough, this was during Chinese New Year and we lived in China … so the Chinese embassy wasn’t open for 10 days to give us our visa nor would our plane let us on without the visa … so we slept in the airport for 10 days.
How did we overcome it? We went to Immigration, US Embassy, and Chinese Embassy. Hah.
Imprisoned In Thailand
Thrown in jail for a night on an island in Thailand (Lanta) because I was working illegally (bartending at my hostel without a workers permit) and they were asking 30,000 baht (1,000 USD) in order to let me go. I said nah because I wasn’t about to pay that, especially knowing they would take less. They were just being greedy knowing I was a young American kid and trying to take advantage of me.
I got out of it by staying in jail for much longer than needed in order to drive the price down (total of about 16 hours). Eventually paid 6,000 baht (200 USD), and even got a ride back to my hostel from the police. Overall, very civil extortion and bribery to be completely honest. Got roughed up a bit in the beginning but never really hurt or anything.
Bombay To Goa
1999 I was in Goa and my visa ran out on the 28th December. Screw that, I’m not going to leave yet I was having too much fun, I’ll see in the new year and then go to Bombay and get an extension so I can legally leave and go home. So on about the 5th of Jan I’m burned out from partying too much, doing way to many drugs and I’m running out of money. I take my last 2000 rupees (in 4 500 notes plus a bit of random change) and get my ass to a the nearest local bus stop. About to get on the bus and I check my pockets. Fuck, I’m somehow down 500 rupees already. I think back to the bus stop where there was one other guy waiting with me, who suddenly got up and left when I was stretching my legs. Ah well, I figure it must have fallen out of my pocket, he saw it and took it. Bit of a bummer but ultimately no biggie, still got money left to get food and a hotel.
So I eventually get to Bombay after about 4 transfers and try to find a hotel. Sadly none of them would let you get a room without a valid visa. I beg and plead saying I am going to the police tomorrow to extend it, but they are all a bunch of bastards despite me offering to pay more. Truly odd in India that this was one time I couldn’t bakshish my way out a situation. As I’m walking down a staircase having given up I see a family living on the stairwell. Chuck it, if they can do it, so can I. Later that night I come back, find an empty space between floors and bed down for probably the most uncomfortable night ever. Just me, the hard floor, my bag for a pillow and supreme heat. I must have slept a total of about 2 hours that night.
The next day I’m up nice and early for obvious reasons and hotfoot it across town to the police quarters in charge of extensions. As I get out of the taxi I’m accosted by a couple of Indian transvestites. A little freaked out I shrug them off, step over some homeless guys smoking heroin under a blanket and go into the building a bit weirded out. It takes about an hour of typical bureaucracy before I sit down at a table with an officer. After a few minutes of umming and ahhing he says “We have decided not to prosecute you”, does a subtle cough and sticks out his hand. I give him 500 rupees (about £10 at the time) as its the smallest note I have. He says “This is too much”. I reply, and this is no lie, “Sorry I don’t have anything smaller. Buy the wife something nice.” I can’t believe I just said that but he smiles and pockets the cash. He duly stamps my visa and I’m on my merry way. I go back to a hotel, get a room and spend the next four days until my flight home smoking dope, snorting ketamine and wandering the streets in a drugged up daze.
I’ve also been trapped into a scam poker blackjack game when some guy invited me to meet his family in some random part of Pnomh Penh, luckily I was quite wary before hand and only took a small amount of money with me. Apparently I could have won around $17,000 before I managed to get away, silly me for bailing out, I could have been rich! I can provide more details if you want but that’s the gist of it.
Train Trouble In Paris
I took a late train into Paris at the Gare du Nord station and didn’t have enough money for a hotel or hostel that particular night. I did however get used to “roughing” it a few other times so I was just going to sleep at the station or something, didn’t plan it out too much. Anyways, I get to the station and the one thing about the Gare du Nord is it’s not in the best section of the town. Also, they close the train station for about 6 hours so you can’t stay there.
I get outside the train station and there is nothing but bums and some crazy guy in the street drunk off his ass yelling and throwing bottles at passing cars. I say chick this and start walking down the street trying to find a place I can post up and sleep for the night. I am carrying my large backpack and its obvious I am a traveler/tourist. I head one way and spot some people and that start looking at me as if I am gold. So I stop and turn around and walk quickly back to the station, to where people were. Eventually I start heading down another street and it’s not looking any better… by this time its about 3am and the drug addicts and drunks are in full control of this area. I go back to the station and decide to tough it out near the guy who is yelling at passing cars.
I post up in a corner near a McDonalds and I am so tired I am battling myself to keep one eye open on everything in front of me. Homeless people are staring at me and I am getting the feeling something bad was going to happen. Then a giant rat jumps around me near my backpack and I jump up, said chuck this, and started walking up another random street.
Exhausted and my body shutting down I crash on a bus stop bench on a quite street, somewhere. I closed my eyes but never slept. After a few hours I walked back to the station got on the train and got out of there.
Long Way To Prague
I was in Munich and planning to meet up with friends in Prague the following day. I bought my express ticket to Prague, looked at the sign on the train, and even checked with the conductor that this was in fact the express train to Prague.
After about 2 hours the train stops. No one gets off so I figure it’s just a repair or something. Several more hours pass, we pull into a city, and everyone gets off. After waiting for a bit and thinking it doesn’t look like Prague, and I ask someone. Apparently when the train stopped several hours ago my train was separated into two trains, one heading to Prague and the other to Hof, Germany. End of the line. There were no more trains that night so I was stuck in Hof.
Annoying, but not the end of world. Getting to Prague the next day required a series of connections. Having learned from my previous day’s experience, I opted not to follow the crowds and instead just looked at the signs at each stop.
I was to get off in some small Czech city. I saw that name on the sign, followed by a series of letters and said “chuck it, gotta follow the signs”. I got off. No one else did. From the look of things I was in some farmer’s field but I figured a small train station must be on the other side of the train. The train left the station and nope – more fields.
Now I’m starting to panic. I have one hour to make my connection that seemingly must be on the other side of the city. Maybe it was a nice city, but as far as I could tell everyone was shirtless and tattooed. Moreover, no one spoke English or German.
To communicate in order to get directions, I start running up to people going “choo choo!’ and making a train motion with my arms. After about 45 minutes of slowly edging closer, I finally see a sign for the station.
Make my connection, meet my friends, get drunk. Also happened to share a room with a bunch of Australians who referred to the lone older guy in our room as “Hitler’s uncle”. I assume Hitler was the only character from olden times they recognized, yet they knew this guy wasn’t him. Thus, it must be his uncle. Pretty hilarious night when one bro failed to pick up, called his gf, then tried to join his buddy in a threesome with a French girl. “Oi, Frenchie, you’ve been to Paris, right? A spit-roast perhaps? Hitler’s Uncle won’t mind.”
Scary Taxi Experience In Kuala Lumpur
My first solo trip I ever did was to Kuala Lumpur. I never ever thought I would be the kind of person who would travel alone, but due to tourist visa issues there I was, twenty years old and flying solo. Despite my family’s worries, everything went shockingly well until it was time for me to leave. I had planned to take the bus to the Low Cost Carrier Terminal but my plan fell through due to the crazy maze of renovations at the bus station. I remember following the signs and somehow ending up outside, no other tourists in sight. Did I mention this was at night too? I wasn’t sure how to get to the airport. I always have this deep-seated fear of missing my flight, so I panicked and ended up taking a taxi so I would get to the airport on time.
First of all, the taxi driver quoted me WAY too much. That should’ve been my cue to walk away, but I was still afraid of missing my flight, so I swallowed my bitterness and accepted. As we were making our way to the airport, the driver began flicking his headlights on and off. Finally he pulled over in order, he told me, to fix his lights. I was basically vibrating with nervousness at this point – was he signalling to someone?? Finally he got back into the taxi and we continued on. As we were driving, the taxi driver communicated to me in broken English that his taxi’s headlights were broken, and that he was going to switch cars. This immediately made me suspicious. “What do you mean, switch cars? Where is this car?” At his house, he told me. “Do you mean another taxi or YOUR car?” We would be going to his house and switching to his personal car, was his answer.
I was right away panicked that this stranger was trying to take me to his house. My reaction: “NO! That is NOT OKAY. I am NOT going to your house and getting into your car. Either you take me to the airport or I am getting out of this taxi right now and finding a new one.”
I guess the taxi driver didn’t want to lose out on the massive fare he was counting on, and took me straight to the airport. Yes, his headlights actually WERE broken. The road to the LCCT doesn’t have many streetlights on it either. At this point, I was feeling super vulnerable. My phone had less than 10% battery at this point. I was thinking – if something happened to me at 9:30 pm on my way to the airport, who would I contact? What would I do? All I could do was follow the advice given to me to always pretend to call someone to let them know you’re in a taxi and you’re on your way. Although of course it would’ve been great if I had ACTUALLY been able to call someone, and give them the taxi’s license plates as well.
Obviously I ended up fine. The driver took me to the airport, I left his taxi without a word, and made my flight with plenty of time to spare. I learned my lesson: panicking can lead to the kind of clouded judgement that leads you into bad situations, which leads to MORE panicking. And I think back then I was way too concerned with blending in with the locals, and I didn’t want to stick out as a tourist by asking questions when I didn’t know what was going on. So yeah, asking for help = good. And don’t ride in taxis with broken headlights.
(Un)lucky In Venice
I decided to travel with a friend of mine for Spring Break. I flew to Venice a day before him. Next afternoon I randomly ran into him on the street, when he told me he had lost his wallet in London and had decided to fly to Venice anyway. He had no phone or way to contact me so it was an act of God he found me and didn’t get stuck without money in Venice.
Later on in our trip we got separated on our way to a train station in Rome. He freaked out and instead of looking for me, smuggled himself onto a train and hid in the bathroom. We found each other again on the plane out of Rome and we were both furious at each other. The guy is a cartoon character and made that trip fiftyfold more stressful than it had to be haha. But at least he’s lucky. We also had no money the whole trip because I had to pay for everything so we were constantly hungry. He spent the last night at Heathrow because I only had money left for a single train ticket back to London. Our friendship didn’t quite survive that ordeal.
College Graduation Trouble In Izmir
College graduation present: Euro trip beginning in Istanbul, on to Izmir/Efes, then to Rome, Florence, Cinque Terre, and Paris. After two in Istanbul, I was flying to Izmir and started feeling some pretty serious back pain—I assumed it was from sleeping poorly or something else minor, but by the time I landed and picked up the rental car, the pain was unbearable and I was on the verge of vomiting.
Thankfully, the Swissotel was understanding enough to let me check in at 10AM, and then I vomited as soon as I walked into the room. By this point, I assumed I had a kidney stone, but I was not sure how to get emergency care in Izmir, Turkey. I hailed a cab and the hotel concierge told the driver to take me to the hospital, but where I ended up was not surprisingly less than ideal. It took two hours to see a doctor, and she felt my stomach and moved my legs before declaring there was no kidney stone. I was squirming uncontrollably so they finally gave me injections of some sort of pain medicine, which helped, but it certainly wasn’t morphine. They sent me home (not actually home, of course) with a pack of syringes and vials of the pain medicine.
I woke up in the middle of the next night in excruciating pain again, so I contacted a relative back in the U.S. who had a business connection in Izmir. At this point I must note that every Turk I actually interacted with was VERY nice and hospitable. The business contact picked me up on the first day of his vacation (while his family waited on him before they all left for a trip) and took me to a more advanced hospital (comparable to U.S. standards) and translated for me all day. Turns out I had a 7mm stone lodged in my kidney that was revealed in a CT scan at this hospital. It was too large to pass, so I had to catch the next flight back home to have it surgically removed.
Thankfully, Delta waived the additional change fees and rebooked my ticket home. Additionally, Hotwire reimbursed for all of the prepaid reservations after I provided a medical reference for the issue. Missing Italy (what I was most looking forward to) and Paris sucks, but I couldn’t risk my health.
Road Trip Across USA
I took a road trip solo across the US. It turned out that my 17-year-old car was not up to the task, and it died on the side of the road ~5 hrs from home. I had to hike down the highway until I found a farm where I could get the number for a tow truck, and then I got towed to the nearest town, a couple miles away. I was in contact with my family the whole time (this was when I still lived with my parents), and eventually my grandparents decided that they would drive down in two vehicles and give me their spare car.
After I got that car, I managed to get through the rest of the trip without any major problems (aside from one flat tire that i was able to get replaced easily), up until the third last day of my trip. I still had about 1000 km (600 miles) to go, and I rear-ended another car, totaling my grandparent’s vehicle.
Again, I was extremely lucky. I was only about 2 hours from my brother’s place, so he drove out to get me and all my stuff, and then I spent the night with him and took a greyhound home.
Paralysed In Chile
I was barely three weeks into a planned 9-month RTW trip. Started off in Peru, hiked the Inca Trail and came down through Bolivia into Chile. Spent 24 hrs on a bus from Calama to Santiago. When I got off the bus my legs buckled under me. At first I thought it was just muscle fatigue/cramps from sitting cramped so long on the bus.
Went to the hostel but later that day I fell down on the floor and couldn’t get back up again. I didn’t have any strength and had to crawl back to my room. Luckily there was someone in the dorm and they called an ambulance. Got to the hospital and was having trouble describing what was happening to me… luckily there was a doctor there that spoke some English and said I most likely had Guillain-Barre syndrome.
Spent the next 10 days in the hospital in Santiago as my strength kept getting worse and worse.. I couldn’t open a bottle of water or even squeeze toothpaste. No pain though so it felt really weird. They put me on immunoglobulin therapy. I was supposed to travel with a girl through southern Chile.. hadn’t met her before other than talking on the phone. Luckily she had given me the name of a local contact and I was able to get in touch with her and she came and visited me in the hospital. Ran up a $300 bill on the phone using the Internet (this was in 1998).
At the end of the 10 days though my strength was finally starting to return but still very weak. Needless to say, being paralyzed meant an end to the trip. Had to go back to the US where I spent two months in physical therapy. I still couldn’t run or jump.
After two months I decided to try to resume my trip, at least partially… doing 3 months instead of the original 9. I went back to Chile and Easter Island, then continued on to South Africa and spent a month on an overland safari truck going up to Nairobi. I think being outside and active helped me get better much faster than moping at home. Even when I got back from the trip I wasn’t 100%… took another 6 months or so. Now I’m fully recovered and haven’t had any relapse.
Broken Leg In Combodia
Thankfully I don’t have any really nasty stories like that. My “funniest” one is probably when I broke my leg in Cambodia. I was fighting a shark, a tiger, and an anaconda… I wish it was that interesting. I was jumping out of a snorkeling tour boat, my foot caught the bench inside and stopped me, my whole leg twisted and I slammed against the side of the boat before breaking the bench, falling into the water and swearing profusely.
We went back to shore and the nice Swiss nurses I had been speaking to before proclaimed my leg to be fine if I could walk on it. I hobbled a little, and I could do it with some extreme pain, but I was able to have my friends help me to a tuktuk. We thought about a hospital, but it didn’t exactly look legit. But eh, we were going back home to China in three days, it’d be fine. I stayed home that night, sat on the beach and didn’t move the next day, had a friend carry my bag our couple of travel days. Within a couple of days I could zombie-walk, and by the time I was back in Shanghai I could manage with a strong limp. I was fiiiiine.
Fast-forward two weeks, I’m bending down in my apartment to throw up with food poisoning when I hear a crack near my knee. Fifteen minutes of agony later I decide I should probably go to a hospital. The next day I get my lovely cast for eight weeks. It was fun.
The Travel Jinxers
My husband and I have such a history of bad travel luck that it’s a running joke.
Our first big trip together was to Taiwan, during typhoon season. We got trapped overnight in Taroko Gorge due to a landslide and had to replan several activities due to weather closures.
Six months later, he crashed a motorbike in the Philippines, breaking his collarbone. It’s taken two surgeries, but he’s perfectly fine now. Unfortunately, it happened on the 3rd day of our trip to a place that required a boat to get to any nice beaches, and he wasn’t able to get in and out of the boats. So we ate and drank a lot at local restaurants.
This February, we found out I was pregnant 6 days before a long awaited trip to Thailand and Malaysia. We’d been planning it for 18 months. The first few days were great, but after a long day in the sun, I got very sick. Long story short, due to low blood pressure, I fainted through a glass door, shattering it and landing in the glass. I sliced through the tendon in my hand and was unable to use it for the next six weeks. Then the morning sickness started. I spent a lot of time in hotels while my husband did all the fun things we planned (I insisted).
We’re a little hesitant to plan any future travels.
Christmas In Zurich
Missed my connection in Dubai Airport. I was going home for Christmas, and my girlfriend was coming from Argentina to meet my parents. We timed our flights so that she would only wait in Zurich for an hour or two, then my parents would pick me up. I got stuck, and had to send my parents a pic of her, instructing to pick her up. I couldn’t call her from the Dubai Airport (DXB) cause she was on the plane too and anyway didn’t have roaming. In the end she was picked up by my dad (who looks exactly like me +30 years – shock), and she spent an akward evening and breakfast with her future in-laws that she met for the first time without me. I caught up the next day and we had a lovely Christmas.
Bedrested In Bankok
My story is a bit different from the ones here but I’ll tell it anyway. I went to Thailand in January. The first part of my trip was alone and then a friend joined me halfway through.
I hadn’t been sleeping much the week before my trip so I arrived a bit tired. I tried to buy a coke at the Shanghai airport without thinking and had my only card blocked because I hadn’t given clearance for China. Fortunately they took Yen so I didn’t have to go without. Arrived in Bangkok and tried to use my debit card… Declined declined declined. I went to 6 atms and none worked. Thank God I had slipped a $100 bill into my bag at the last minute.
I didn’t know how long $100 would last me in Thailand or when my card would start working again. I decided to take public transportation to my hostel, which wasn’t so bad, except I had a 20 minute walk in the dark from the metro to the hostel. Being a young solo girl, I try not to have to do this my first night in the country. Luckily I had printed out directions and a map in both English and Thai so I could ask for help. The only problem was that my directions were using the metric system and as an American, I have no clue how far 200 meters are. Finally got there after walking down the wrong Street a few times.
Called my mom in the states and she sorted my banking system for me because I was so exhausted I couldn’t think. I went to bed but unfortunately woke up 4 hours later stressing.
The next few days were a blast! New years in Bangkok and a reddit meet up. Lots of drinking, partying, sex, and very very little sleep. I was averaging about 3 hours a night for 2 weeks at this point.
My friend arrived and the next day my throat hurt a bit… Figured I was just tired and took an easy day. Then it hurt more…. So I bought some antibiotics and cough drops at the pharmacy and slept the whole day. When I woke up, I could barely breathe. Woke my friend up at midnight to take me to the emergency room. He wasn’t excited of course but obliged. They gave me more pills but said I’d be fine.
Woke up the next morning and was sooo much worse. I couldn’t swallow, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t eat. At this point I wasn’t even able swallow my own spit or open my mouth most of the way.
My friend took me back to the emergency room though he was getting tired of this and complaining about how much time it was wasting. He also asked me for $10 that I owed him while I was sitting on the bed waiting for an IV drip. Then went on to tell me I was walking too slow on the way back to the hotel.
Ended up being diagnosed with acute tonsillitis, getting a shot of painkiller, antibiotic and hydration IV, and some other various drugs. I had to return to the hospital everyday for the next 4 days to get a daily IV which pretty much killed my plans for vacation.
I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in almost 72 hours at this point and finally was able to due to the pain killer. I asked my friend to go with me but he refused. So sick and somewhat drugged, I walked around alone until I found an awesome Mexican restaurant and drank about 10 fruit smoothies.
At first the hospital was nerve wracking. I was the only foreigner there and people around me were getting blood transfusions and other scary shit. But the staff were really nice and tried to make me comfortable. Spoke wonderful English and even the patients became friends. A doctor even asked me on a date on the last visit. Considered skipping my plane but thought better if it.
After that, my friend and I traveled together but split ways for most of it. I was feeling better but still exhausted. Spent the next week chilling on the beach and eating awesome food.
I got sick in the airplane back to Japan and had another week of daily IV drips to finally kick this stupid infection.
Being sick on vacation is never fun, especially in a third world country. I feel lucky though that my family back in the US came through for me and the locals were Uber kind. Hospitals in Thailand aren’t terribly expensive but also aren’t terribly clean. I survived so all is well that ends well.
Bag Exchanged En-Route Vietnam
I have a tendency to over-plan, over-pack and tend to keep calm so I rarely actually do have traveling disaster stories. But my boyfriend is the type that just goes with the flow so this is more of his travel disaster story. We went to SEA together and my backpack was 1.5x the size of his and so he insisted on carrying mine while I carried his even though I was completely fine. So this happened throughout Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos where we joked about us getting accidentally separated with each others packs. We planned to tour the Mekong river via slow boat getting from Laos into Thailand but in Luang Prabang I started to feel a bit sick and exhausted so I decided to fly to Chiang Mai instead. My flight was in the afternoon so I slept longer while he checked out and headed to pier at 7:30 am…with my bag. That was 2 1/2 days with my clothes and toiletries and luckily not my passport, cards, etc as I kept that on me. I flew to Chiang Mai and bought a dress and clean underwear there while he remained in the same clothes the entire 2.5 days as he couldn’t find anything in Pak Beng and just dealt with it. We were lucky we weren’t separated for longer.
Then in Ko Pha Ngan on the last leg of our trip before Bangkok I had worn a rain jacket because of the wings and he didn’t. We stepped out of a store and it was pouring rain and didn’t look like it was going to let up any soon. So he took his clothes off and walked back to the hostel in his underwear while I carried his clothes under my rain jacket looking like I had a pregnant belly. We got a lot of stares because he’s over 6 ft tall and several kids laughed at him but he just laughed it off.
Drunk Night In Rome
It all started when we got off the train in the main terminal in Rome. I was with my cousin, K, and my good buddies M, Ky and F. We got into Rome around 5 pm so we decided to find our hostel then get dinner. Our hostel was luckily directly across the street from the main train terminal so at least that was easy. We got settled and I put a bottle of red wine in the fridge to cool (I like my wine cold). We then went to the most blatant tourist trap restaurant for supper, I knew this because when we all entered the patrons glared at us like we were very unwanted there. I ordered Rigatoni and it looked and tasted exactly like chef boyardee so I ordered a beer (Moretti) to go along with it because at least I know the beer isn’t shit. Everyone else was very dissatisfied with their meals so we had ample drinks to make it better. We all paid (overpaid) and I had had at least 5 beers by the time dinner was finished so I was already feeling it. Let’s take a second here so I can explain my stature to you. I’m a small guy, 120 lbs and 5’3″ so alcohol hits me pretty hard.
Back at the hostel we didn’t know what to do because it was too late to go sight seeing and too early to go to any clubs or bars so I popped open my chilled bottle of wine and began to drink. The wine that I had bought was horrid swill so I proceeded to mix it with Redbull cola, it was a horrible mix and the mix made me less aware of how drunk I actually was. Ky, M and F were all drinking their own bottles of wine/beer and we were getting hammered very quickly. My cousin K was going through a bad breakup with her bf and didn’t feel like drinking. We finished all our drinks pretty quickly so everyone but K decided to go to the grocery store a couple blocks away and get more.
One the way out the front door of the hostel we decided it was a good idea to go make friends with the homeless Somalians outside of the train station. We get there and there are 4 large men and one small, elderly woman. The sound that came out of the elderly woman’s mouth when she spoke was terrifying, she sounded like a witch doctor that had to speak with one of those speach generating devices. I, being the overly nice Italian who likes to embrace people at inopportune times, decided to make friends with the woman. I stumbled over to her, said hi and proceeded to put my arm around her in a friendly manner.
She. Freaking. Lost. Her. Shit.
She immediately smashed the beer bottle that was in her hand on the wall behind us and stuck it in my face all while buzzing “Don’t you touch me you little cunt! Ra ra ra ra ra” I was petrified and so were my friends.
I’m eternally grateful for the men she was with because one came over hit the bottle out of her hand so she couldn’t cut me and another bear hugged her so that me and my friends could get away without her chasing me. I couldn’t hit an 80 some year old woman so this situation was scary as fuck.
Me, Ky, M and F run away from the group of Somalians and back to the hostel as quick as possible, all while proclaiming drunkenly “How fucking crazy that old bitch was”. We got back to the hostel and as soon as I walked through the door to our room I realized how drunk I was. I fell on the floor and K had to come pick me up and push me into the bathroom where I puked for about an hour. Redbull cola, red wine and Chef Boyardee. Woke up the next day and surprisingly remembered the night, despite having one of the worst hang overs I’ve ever had in my life. Probably my best travelling story to date but I have a lot of “too drunk” stories.
Diney World Disaster
Ah, when i was young, my parents were in the process of splitting up when my dad proposed a trip to disney world with us, his kids. That seemed cool. Then, the morning of, he picked us up with this woman we had never seen before and her infant child. Turns out that was our new half brother and my dad’s mistress.
We were then trapped in the car with this woman we hated and forced to go to disney world with her. We would fight over who had to sit next to her on rides and get yelled at. We would squirm away from her in pictures, etc.
We were dragged to disney world many times after that with this “new family.” Every trip was horrible. I hate disney world. I cannot think of any place in the entire world I would dislike vacationing to more than disneyworld.
"Cruising" Back To The US
I took a transatlantic cruise back from the Mediterranean to the US on board a Holland America ship, because we thought it might be more fun that just flying back. As we were boarding we were given notice that there was some kind of severe sickness on the previous cruise with lots of vomiting, basically the whole ship had become a vomitorium. Elevators, hallways, walls, everywhere. Most of the amenities were shut down, including laundry facilities.
There were notices that also said the ship was being “deep cleaned” to remove the virus or germs, or whatever the issue was, but I didn’t really see many signs of that, as our room was pretty filthy. There was a layer of grime on the phone that made it look like it was never washed, the sheets looked dirty and stained, and that bathroom was mildew city. We immediately made demands to have the room cleaned again, and it wasn’t much better.
After a two days on the ship, we started to hear about people getting sick on the cruise, and being quarantined in their quarters. I even saw fresh vomit in the hall. We were still traveling around the coast of eurpoe, and were at a port in spain when we decided to nope out of the rest of the cruise, took the loss, and fly back home instead anyway.
Christmas Disaster In Florida
Probably when my dad woke my brother and me up in the middle of the night while visiting grandma and grandpa to make us WALK to the airport. My dad is a very unstable person, and he can lose his shit at the drop of the hat. I was 11, visiting my grandparents in Florida with my dad. He went out, got piss drunk, lost his cell phone, and decided that we were leaving. He woke us up in the middle of the night to pack our bags. Cut to the three of us walking down the street with our bags while my grandparents coast next to us begging us to get in the car. We walked for a little while, then caught a cab. Once we got to the airport, I guess my dad realized he couldn’t possibly pay for 3 more tickets home, so he lost it (again), threw his suitcase across the terminal, and left. Just walked out of the airport. I can still see him disappearing at the top of a hill. My brother and I got our bags, found a maintenance guy (who saw everything but didn’t give a shit), and asked where the pay phone was. I guess we were going to look up my grandparents’ number or something. But then they showed up and took us home. In the morning, dad was there, acting like nothing ever happened. Worst Christmas ever.
Boat To France
Taking the small fast boat that operated between Portsmouth and France. It was a stormy day but the boat had been given the all clear to go.
After a while at sea the weather got a lot worse and the boat started becoming pretty unsteady. People began being sea sick and then the staff also started hurling all over the place. Eventually water was seen coming in the vents and smoke.
Turns out the smoke was from a flair that had gone off by accident, however I did not think I would live to see another day.
We were the last boat to make that trip that day as the company cancelled all the other crossings.
Caravanning To Western Australia
A caravan trip to the north of Western Australia in the 70s. On the way we were headed through a cattle grid (for those that don’t know this is where the fence crosses the road and there is a metal grid in the road to stop cows). There was a dead bloated roo on the grid and a car coming the other way so my father had to drive over the roo. Which burst. We wound up the windows very fast and at the next town all the dogs came running and had a great time eating chunks of dead cooked rotten roo off the car. We then drove over 180 miles of corragated unsealed road and spent the night in a caravan park – read bare dirt patch with no power and thunderbox loos for caravan park. We had a fire in the caravan that night. When we got to our destination and hooked up the powe there was ano electrical fault which threw my mother 30ft. It was supposed to be a “save the marriage”holiday. I was about 15 and the entire month was hell on wheels.
Long Route To Denver, Colorado
I travel for work 95% of the time. I have been doing this for the last 3 years. I’ve had missed connections, cancelled flights, etc. But none of those compare to one…adventure we’ll call it. This happened a few months ago…
I live in South Florida and I was flying back and forth to Vancouver, BC for a month. Just a hell of a haul. I had been onsite in Vancouver for 11 days and had a red-eye flight booked for Friday night. This would have me home all day Saturday and most of the day Sunday. Then I would leave to return to Vancouver at 5pm Sunday. I knew when I booked this that it would be tough on me, but hey, I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in 11 days. And when you travel like I do, you make it a priority to get home to see your loved ones.
I get a call at dinner Friday night that my red-eye flight was cancelled.
Unfortunately, my phone was at 2% battery, and promptly died after getting the call. I think, “Alright well I’ll just charge my phone back at the hotel when I finish dinner and get on the other red-eye that night.” No dice. When I called the airline back, the earliest flight they could get me on would be Saturday at 10am.
Now, I could have stayed in Vancouver, but at this point I was determined to get home and see my girl. I only get to see her on weekends anyways, so I’ll suck it up, sacrifice my body, and be home for one night.
I get on my flight the next morning, and promptly fall asleep. I was expecting to wake up in Denver, my connecting city, but instead wake up to the plane having it own mosh-pit party in the air. Seriously, in the 3 years I have traveled, I have never experienced turbulence like this. People were gasping and throwing up.
The pilot comes over the PA system and very calmly states that we have been diverted to Pueblo. “Pueblo? Isn’t that in fucking New Mexico or some shit?” Turns out there’s a Pueblo, CO. Who knew?
The pilot also informs us that Denver airport was shut down to all incoming and outgoing air traffic due to the violent thunderstorms.
5 minutes later the pilot has good news! “Good news everyone! We can actually land in Colorado Springs!”
So we go and land in Colorado Springs. The pilot tells us there are no gates to pull in to because the tarmac is so full, so we will chill on the tarmac until we get cleared for takeoff again. My phone was still dead, since I had no way of charging it. So I figure I might as well take another nap.
I wake up and ask the guy next to me how long we have been sitting on the tarmac. “2 hours,” he replied.
The pilot informs us that Colorado Springs is now shut down for the rest of the day, and we will be pulling in to the gate. I turn to the guy next to me and ask if he wants to rent a car and drive to Denver. Worst case scenario I’m stuck in Denver and can see a few friends for the night before I go back to Vancouver the next day. I have resigned myself to the fact that I won’t be making it back home to my girl this weekend.
So we go to see about one-way car rentals and they want to charge us $250. I immediately turn around to the people in line behind me and start asking people to carpool. Hertz lady did not like this.
But then! A man pipes up and says, “Hey! we’ve got a big car, you two want to ride with us?” We said absolutely, we’ll each give you $25 for the trouble. Perfect.
So it’s me, this stranger I met on the plane, a family of four, plus a stranger they met on the plane. 7 in all, tucked into a Ford Explorer driving up to Denver.
I still have no way of knowing what’s going on with my flights because my phone and computer are dead. But since we are dropping the other 2 strangers off at the airport, I’ll go there first and catch a cab to the nearest hotel. We drive the 2 hours up to the airport, with these strangers who have all been tossed together in this unfortunate situation. It was actually kind of fun.
We arrive to the Denver airport, thank them for their hospitality, and go about our separate ways. On a whim, I walk up to the ticket agent and ask the status of my flight. “Sir, that flight leaves in 30 min, you can make it if you hurry.”
It’s about 11:30 at night there, and I book it through security and run like hell to my gate. I make it just in time to board with the 1st group.
I charge my phone on this flight, and when we land in Ft. Lauderdale at 3:00am, I receive about 10 texts from my girlfriend who is worried sick. I text her, letting her know that I’m okay, but that I will text her in the morning. She asks if I made it home, but I am trying to surprise her. So I tell her to get some rest and I will text her in the morning. I get home at 3:30am, slide up to my girl in bed, and cuddled her so hard.
Soccer Riots In Greece
Got stuck in a soccer riot in Greece. We were in Thessaloniki and just walking about when out of nowhere we see a police motorcade full of motorcycles and horses. We thought it must be some sort of festival or parade or something because a crowd was drawing. Eventually we heard singing coming down the block and hundreds of hooligans were marching toward the police. Once we realized what was going on we tried to leave but shit already started to go down. In trying to escape we got hit with tear gas from the police and found shelter in a random apt building. That one, while terrifying in the moment is one of my favorite memories looking back.
Turkey Sandwich At Atlanta
In June of 2013 I went on a plane by myself for the first time ( I was 16) to france. I had to go from Memphis to Atlanta then Brussels Belgium to Nantes France. When I got to atlanta I had a four hour layover. I got a little bit hungry so I bought myself a turkey sandwich. Fast forward to the plane. I’m sitting between a elderly german couple who are snoring. I hear my stomach make a noise like a bear having a stroke. I say oh shit and try to stumble over the old dude but I trip and fall on my face. I pick myself up wait five minutes for one of the stalls to be open, then proceed to puke for the rest of the flight. I get to brussels and like on the plane my stomach is still heaving. Soon I find a restroom and the guys one is out of order. I pretty much say screw it and go to the ladies restroom. People look at me like I am out of my mind and go to a stall, puke, nod to the two pretty young women in there, and leave. A pretty nice guy gets me through a shorter line then where I was supposed to go and the next thing I know is I am on my flight. The guy who was supposed to sit with me saw me fill a few bags and was pretty much upgraded to first class. All this time the stewardesses are giving me more bags. I say thank you, leave, pick up my luggage, and go to some family members house. I am then in bed for two days from food poisoning and dehydration. TL;DR Don’t eat a turkey and mayo sandwich in atlanta.
Flight trouble In Florida
Flying from Florida to Rhode Island…I was flying home to take my ex on a date, we broke up when I moved across the country for work, but I still wanted to make it work with her. She asked me to take her on a date so I planned a trip home, booked a hotel room and reservations at a nice restaurant and was very excited to go. It was planned out for about 2 months, 3 days before I flew home she told me that she didnt care about me anymore and didnt want to see me. Now I have no desire to go home but my family knows Im coming back and they are all excited to see me. I decide to just take the trip and make the best of it.
I was flying out of Ft Lauderdale but I lived about an hour and a half south, I had an early flight out and wasnt sure how traffic would be so I made sure that I left extra early. I could see the airport and was about two hours early for my flight. Im sitting at the only red light between me and the airport when a train comes across the tracks. It comes to a complete stop on the tracks in front of me and doesnt move for an hour and Im just stuck there with other cars behind me blocking me in. When the train finally moves I speed down the street looking for the parking lot, which is obviously under construction and has moved. Signs to get to the new parking lot are terrible, about 20 minutes later I finally find it, park my car, grab my bags and start running to the shuttle. I am running down the middle of the street as the shuttle leaves without me. At this point I feel like Im in a bad movie. I wait for the next shuttle and he tells me he has to wait 15 minutes before leaving, but after telling him how my morning has been going and that I would give him 20 to just leave and get me to the airport he agrees. I get inside and ask someone to help me, tell them i have about 25 minutes before my flight, they dont care, tell me its too late and to get in line to reschedule my ticket. 2 hours later i get to the front of the line and the lady tells me that she will be so kind as to wave the rebooking fee and that all I have to do is pay the difference between the flight I had and the flight she is switching me too. I say fine, when and how much is the next flight…12 hours and $200 later, I spent the rest of the day drinking and reading at chilis in the airport.
8:30 pm and Im finally boarding my flight home which has a stop in N.C. to pick up other passengers. Im told we dont have to get off the flight, some people will get off, others will get on and we are off again. However…when we land there just so happens to be a fire alarm going off inside the airport. The captain tells us that we have to evacuate the plane. Everyone gets off and is sitting around inside the airport and for about 30 minutes everyone is told to leave the building but no one wants to. Finally about half the people start to leave so I decide to get up and go with them. I am wearing a t shirt and shorts and its about 30 degrees outside now that I am no longer in florida, but all my warm clothes are in my checked bag. 30 minutes later they let us enter the airport again but say we have to go through security again since we exited the building. We wait for 2 hours and someone finally comes over and tells us that they sent the people who refused to evacuate, along with all our luggage on to rhode island because we could not get on the plane without going through security but TSA had all gone home during the fire alarm because there were no flights left.
So here I am stuck in North Carolina with just the clothes on my back. I buy a phone charger in the airport and am told the only available food is a vending machine across the street that closes in 10 minutes. I go get my M&m and dorito dinner, come back and try to figure out whats going on. I am told that they will put us on the next flight out at no charge (such gentlemen)…the next flight is not until 10:30 pm the next day. I ask if there is any way they can put me on a flight back to Florida and they say no, so I ask if they will put me on a flight with a different airline and I will pay the difference in the ticket, they say no. I try to rent a car but it is closed for the night, and the only bus station is 2 hours away. So i give up and spend the entire night and all the next day in the airport.
My original flight was supposed to land at 11:15 am on Monday. I got off the plane at 12:30 am on Wednesday. All this to not see the girl who was the entire reason for my trip. I emailed and wrote a letter to the airline asking to at least have the money for my second flight returned to me. They responded by saying that it was my own fault for leaving the airport and the best they would do is a $25 credit toward my next flight with them.
Hellhole On Flight Back From India
I was flying back from India after spending a couple months there this summer.
I want to note that on the 6-hour drive to the airport, I’d felt some motion and altitude sickness, and maybe some dehydration, but nothing much had happened.
After boarding, I watch a Bollywood movie, it was pretty good. So I eat some of the airplane food, and let me tell you, United does not know how to make Indian food. It was completely unpalatable. But it was also the first of only 2 meals I’d get over 20 hours of flying, so I ate it.
I took a nap, and woke up in the middle of the “night,” meaning that pretty much everyone on the plane was asleep, too.
And I have to poop.
I mean, I have to poop really. Really. Bad.
So, clenching myself tighter than a vice grip, I climb over the two people in between me and the aisle, slip on one of them, and plant myself face-first into the armrest of one of the chairs in the central seats. I then make my way to the bathroom, trying to play it off, like how cats do when they try to jump onto the counter and misjudge the height.
I get in the restroom, pants down, sit on the toilet, and unleash the holiest of holies. I mean, there was a little plug of solid waste holding it all in, but after that, this was just a thick brown liquid jet of juice flowing like the Ganges out my rectum. Every few seconds the stream would stop, and I’d be greeted with an enormous ball of gas. It sounded like machine gun fire and artillery shellings, but the war was only just begun.
I felt something coming up my esophagus. I could feel it rising up, like some sort of chunky snake slithering its way up my throat. I opened my mouth and burped, which sent another gushing burst of old muddy water forth from my butt, but then the air stopped in my throat. There was… something… there.
I don’t know how many of you have spent a lot of time in this situation, but an airplane bathroom isn’t structured right for what I was going through right then. I needed to barf in the sink, but the firehose that was my anal cavity was still putting out the unholy hellfire of half-processed indian food.
So I did what anyone else would do, and stood up.
I didn’t vomit, I wouldn’t say it was vomit. You know how when you open a can of something that’s been frozen, and it just kinda, slides out, but retains the can shape? I’m trying to communicate this perfectly, here. A gelatinous can-shaped chunk of airplane food slit right out of my mouth and into the bathroom sink. It jiggled a little bit.
My ass was spraying all over the walls. And that’s when the nosebleed started.
I instinctively reached for the paper towels, which meant my ass-spray was directed at another wall, but then I vomited again–more liquid this time, and all over my hands. I was worried that the inside of my nose would get infected with the vomit. So I start trying to hock it up, you know, like, how you can vibrate your soft palate and kinda suck it back down? And then I tried blowing it out…
Which meant there was now blood, vomit, and stool covering everything.
And then it all stopped. With a whimpering squeak, all was quiet on my southern front.
I plugged my nose with some tissues and spent the next half-hour cleaning the restroom. Then I went to sleep again.
What Happened In Vegas
When I lived in L.A., one night I was watching The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. A commercial came on for a standup show he was doing in Vegas that coming Saturday. I thought, you know what, I’m gonna go to that.
I bought a ticket for the show online, and booked flight & hotel through T______city. Flight confirmed, hotel reservation confirmed.
The flight went well, but guess what happened when I got to the hotel. They didn’t have my reservation. But Tr____bullshitty said that my reservation was confirmed. Yes, but the hotel had sold out since then. Yes, I’m one of the customers you sold out to. Apparently that’s not how it works.
I got on the phone to Lotsatravesty to get it sorted out. Nearly lost the call as the battery on my cell phone nearly drained out after 40 (that’s FORTY) minutes on hold. They did get me another hotel, halfway across town, at $25 a night more than the room I had booked, and I missed the show. Money spent for hotel, show ticket and round-trip flight for nothing. I now book flights and hotels directly.