Everyone complains about plane ticket prices. Nobody wants to pay $700, your arm, your leg, and your firstborn to fly, no matter where you’re going to. It’s not like you even get a free lunch bag like you used to, filled with a sandwich and Pepperidge Farm chessmen cookies. Now that bag is $7 of ‘no way I’m buying; I’ll get McDonald’s instead & I’m getting more for less.’

However, as much as we complain about the prices (I mean paying for luggage, and on some airlines for carryon – what next, paying to sit at my gate?!), some things you need to spend money on. After I had the flight from hell for a mere $120, I’m willing to spend a little more on plane tickets (although $700 is a steep price).

I’m not writing this article to scare – I still love to fly and have flown a dozen times since. Plus airplanes are factually safer than cars. I’m writing to warn about shady airlines with too good to be true prices because the phrase ‘you get what you pay for’ is true for a reason, and if you don’t pay, well… good luck.

My story began with my spring break in 2011. I was going to the magical world of Disney with my mom. Since I was in college, a state away from her, I was flying out by myself from the tiny 2-gate (now 5!) Kalamazoo Airport; my mom from the grand mile-hike Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. Since Kalamazoo is a small city, there aren’t many options for airlines. It’s Delta, American Airlines, or some airline no one, not even the pilot, has heard of. It could be a hair product or restaurant for all you know.

And that hair product-restaurant airline was the one I was on because it was significantly cheaper – like $250 cheaper, which to a stingy person like me is like, ‘hell yeah; what a sweet price’ - especially when you’re a poor college student who had expensive dreams of tickets to Disney and Universal and hopefully Disney again.

So I get on the plane with probably 40 other people and we take off. All is well. Even when we’re told about turbulence, all is well – after all, turbulence is nothing new.

Eet. Wrong.

The plane fishtailed in the air. Like when a car’s back wheels slide on ice but the front still goes straight – we were doing that - but 38,000 feet above ground and 500 miles per hour (or whatever those statistics are that the pilot reads off that most people don’t care about). Luckily I was in the middle of the plane and didn’t get the full effect, but imagine being in the front all la-de-da-de-di-having-a-tea-party and you start hearing screams from the back of the plane. You’re going to spill your tea all over your lap.

The airline attendants did their best to keep everyone calm during what was sure to be the worst turbulence any of us had experienced (and hopefully never will again). Quite a few people in the back were screaming, and I didn’t blame them. From the middle was terrifying enough –the shakes, the bumps, the swaying- that I was worried our plane was going to be blown out of the air, or worse, split like the Titanic in mid-air.

I should have seen that as a warning sign for what to expect on my flight home, because my flight from hell was round trip; however, the excitement of being on ground and in Orlando had me pushing aside the memory. It was 80 degrees, my mom had almost landed, and Disney was two days away, so things were looking up.

In fact, heading back home, everything had been looking up (excluding the fact that I was leaving the happiest place on Earth), but ‘looking up’ didn’t last long. Not even 10 minutes - because next thing you knew – POP! Either a Weasley Twin hit a bludger into our plane playing Quidditch or something in back exploded. If only the Wizarding World were real…

Shrieks echoed throughout the plane, because what the hell was that - and were we going to crash?

The captain assured us over the intercom that we were fine… till we had another ten loud POPs in a row coming from the back of the plane (why is it always the back of the plane?!). Hell began to break loose amongst us passengers. Screams, cries, prayers, and ‘don’t let me die like this’ erupted from every corner of the plane. As if we trusted that we were fine because 1) he was surely paid to tell us that regardless of if it was true or not, and 2) it sounded like we were under attack.

I was certain we were going to die.

Then the captain said we were making an emergency landing… Not just a landing, but an emergency landing. Fantastic! (Yes, that’s a sarcastic fantastic because as much as I was glad to be landing, who wants to know they’re landing because their plane is most likely about to crash? The answer: no one!)

People seemed to ease up at the idea of knowing we were on our way to safety… till we saw the runway. A vast amount of fire trucks with their lights flashing lined half the length of the runway. You’d think this stuff would be comforting knowing that should you crash, there’s a rescue crew, but it’s really the opposite because it makes you realize how much danger your plane, with your life on it, is actually in.

Thanks to every higher power, we landed without a problem and to a round of applause for our pilot. (Hopefully, our pilot does not live for the applause, applause, live for the applause, applause, because I shouldn’t have to thank you for not letting me die.)

One would think the horrors end there, but oh no, that was still the beginning. Sitting around the gate, we passengers waited for an update on our plane – what was wrong, how quickly could they fix it, and when would be on our way? It was then that we were informed the plane had a faulty engine (really – just what I want to hear when I still have the whole plane ride to go) and that we would have another plane shortly, within in an hour or two, whenever, never.

When the new plane arrived, they thoroughly inspected it to assure our safety. Good thing they did, because it was deemed to have engine troubles too! TOO?! You’re kidding me, right? Unfortunately no, so then we were told we’d have to wait for yet another plane, one flying in from Georgia that’d be there in two hours. They couldn’t get anything sooner?

By that point, we’d already been re-grounded 2 hours, add another 2 for the Georgia plane and you’ve got unhappy campers – not that we’d been happy campers. And our unhappiness only grew worse when Georgia’s plane delayed an hour. You’ve got to be kidding me.

My mom’s flight was scheduled for two hours after my original flight and she had already landed before our re-take off. I was livid. I should have been home, unpacking, and settling into my comfy bed, but nope, I was stuck in the damn airport with a bunch other pissed off people and our colorful vocabularies. After five hours, we still had plenty of colors to use.

Make that six hours, because Georgia got delayed again.

For the troubles the airline was giving us, they gave us vouchers for free food… which was redeemable at only one place because the rest of the airport was shutting down for the night. So then we all stood in line there, because what better did a bunch of stranded people have to do?

Seven awful, dreadful hours later, a plane finally arrived and passed inspection. While it was a relief to be on the plane, it wasn’t restful. After the sort of day we’d had, I don’t think anyone felt comfortable lumbering into sleep, because who knew what could happen?

Many of us, having spent a majority of the day complaining together, said we’d write the airline about our horrible experience – I mean, an emergency landing, a failed back-up, a very delayed third back-up, and seven hours later, not being a happy camper was an understatement. And no free mediocre burger was going to make up for it. The airline never wrote back; go figure, but an apology wouldn’t have killed them.

My flight from hell taught me one thing: I’d rather spend a little more for an airline that is more reliable. One that won’t leave me hanging for 7 hours because they only have 3 planes, and one with customer service that will handle its passengers that have been traumatized.

Pay a little more – you’ll get service you deserve – although no matter what you pay, you’ll never get enough leg room.

Brianna Krueger is the Chief Editor for Wandering Educators