Travel horror stories. The ones that make for great bar talk later.

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Shane Limbeck

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FE Staff
Every trip has its surprises. Missed flights, broken gear, bad weather, worse company, or a border crossing that got a little too interesting.

What’s your best travel disaster story? The one that was hell in the moment but turned into a classic once you made it home.

Tell it like you would at the bar. The worse it was, the better it probably is now.
 
Let me tell you a story.

Mexico circa 2019. I get off the plane in Mexico City, coming from Bogota, Columbia. I'm there to negotiate a large-scale deal or rather keep us from giving away the farm in a stupid large-scale deal, and my counter party is aggressive, and connected, so I am looking forward to this somewhat like tearing fingernails off with pliers. My colleague and I are met by our driver, my code word back then was Mr. Mike Salazar, not my real name, so we get our bags and hop in our black suburban. We are out of the airport 100 yards and are pincered to the curb by two Federal Police Suburban's, and all but one are wearing balaclavas and speak zero English. My Spanish is decent, my Portuguese better, a story for another time, but these folks are all business and immediately we are held with weapons at forehead, and it's blazing hot and the sweat is rolling. They tear the Suburban apart and then start in on our luggage. Coincidentally, that week my wife had suggested a new homeopathic vitamin regimen for me, always trying to make me healthier, and it's liquid format in small brown pharmaceutical bottles. When they find those, they come after me for narcotics and I am trying to explain they are "vitaminos" - not a fun moment. After two hours of this bullshit, and the continuing, call it pestering thought in my head that these cops are being paid by my counter party so I will miss the negotiation, and just getting tired of staring at the sweaty finger on the trigger of the HK MP5 pointed at my head, I say to the one guy not masked, "I've had enough of your bullshit, it's time to take us to jail, or take us to the US Embassy", I immediately get whacked in the leg with a baton, and told to shut up. What do you do when you are a stubborn Irish dude, you rinse and repeat. I just kept it up until the guy got tired of hitting me and decided to take action. Next thing you know, he looks at his watch, and signals his crew, and they are gone as fast as they showed up. I did end up validating it was a paid gig by my adversary, and I did keep us out of that crappy deal. Upon returning home, I told my wife, never again will I take some new-fangled vitamin thing on my foreign travels, which in that era were over a million miles a year, offshore about 80-% of the time. The morale of the story: vitamins are for pussies, an MP5 only hurts when it goes off and is pointed at you, and be a Lion, not a Lamb, as lambs get slaughtered on someone else's schedule, Lions walk across the divide to what's next when they choose.
 
Long story, but the short version is I thought I was going to die in a hotel in Morocco about 10 years ago from some sort of still mysterious internal problem. Took two or three days to happen before I instead got better.
 
My wife and I were in Cabo when Hurricane Odile (Cat 4) hit. Hung out in town for several days afterwards and then finally made it to the airport on Day 5.

All power and communication were out so the planes were landing/taking off blind. People were lined up for miles just waiting for planes to arrive.
 
Any flight to or from Lagos Nigeria- A flight I've done at least 15 times. I'm pretty sure this is where the "Jetway Jesus" started

Also- the airport is sweltering, and there are random people in uniforms calling you over for bribes. Traffic is so bad that you leave 5hrs early for a 20 mile drive.
 
Investigating a plane crash on Culebra Island (P.R.). I have to travel to Vieques to meet with people the next day. Hop over on a Caravan as the sun is going down. The little hotel where I was going to stay is on the south side of island (airport is on the north) sends a driver in a jeep to pick me up. Problem is, the driver arrives literally stinking drunk. So now it's dark, I'm damned if he's gonna drive. He's fine with me driving, but this is pre-GPS-on-every phone, I did not have a map, so he's giving me directions (sorta) as I'm trying to drive across the island in a jeep with one working headlight. In the daytime, if you know the way this is a 20 minute drive. Took us an hour of wrong turns and misdirections. (And my Spanish is really very good.)

I've driven all over the world, but that was just about the most memorable hour of them all. Little hotel had a fine little bar, so it worked out fine. Driver was the owner's son, or son-in-law. We all shared a nightcap.
 
Let me tell you a story.

Mexico circa 2019. I get off the plane in Mexico City, coming from Bogota, Columbia. I'm there to negotiate a large-scale deal or rather keep us from giving away the farm in a stupid large-scale deal, and my counter party is aggressive, and connected, so I am looking forward to this somewhat like tearing fingernails off with pliers. My colleague and I are met by our driver, my code word back then was Mr. Mike Salazar, not my real name, so we get our bags and hop in our black suburban. We are out of the airport 100 yards and are pincered to the curb by two Federal Police Suburban's, and all but one are wearing balaclavas and speak zero English. My Spanish is decent, my Portuguese better, a story for another time, but these folks are all business and immediately we are held with weapons at forehead, and it's blazing hot and the sweat is rolling. They tear the Suburban apart and then start in on our luggage. Coincidentally, that week my wife had suggested a new homeopathic vitamin regimen for me, always trying to make me healthier, and it's liquid format in small brown pharmaceutical bottles. When they find those, they come after me for narcotics and I am trying to explain they are "vitaminos" - not a fun moment. After two hours of this bullshit, and the continuing, call it pestering thought in my head that these cops are being paid by my counter party so I will miss the negotiation, and just getting tired of staring at the sweaty finger on the trigger of the HK MP5 pointed at my head, I say to the one guy not masked, "I've had enough of your bullshit, it's time to take us to jail, or take us to the US Embassy", I immediately get whacked in the leg with a baton, and told to shut up. What do you do when you are a stubborn Irish dude, you rinse and repeat. I just kept it up until the guy got tired of hitting me and decided to take action. Next thing you know, he looks at his watch, and signals his crew, and they are gone as fast as they showed up. I did end up validating it was a paid gig by my adversary, and I did keep us out of that crappy deal. Upon returning home, I told my wife, never again will I take some new-fangled vitamin thing on my foreign travels, which in that era were over a million miles a year, offshore about 80-% of the time. The morale of the story: vitamins are for pussies, an MP5 only hurts when it goes off and is pointed at you, and be a Lion, not a Lamb, as lambs get slaughtered on someone else's schedule, Lions walk across the divide to what's next when they choose.
I've heard that your Portuguese is spot on. You must have had a great teacher. - Bubbles
 
This story takes place earlier this year when my wife and I decided to venture over to France for some Roe deer hunting. We thought it would be a great opportunity to explore some other parts of France as well, so we tacked on a couple extra days on the front end for Toulouse, and a couple of days on the back end for Paris.

Toulouse was beautiful, and the people were kind. We spent quite a bit of time at an English pub named Seven Sisters and got way too drunk with the owner Paul, and a Frenchman named Louie that spoke excellent English and played American football for a few years, but I digress. We then headed south to some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen, rolling hills filled with sunflowers and sheep herders.

After the hunt it was time to head back north to visit Paris, and this is where the story takes a turn. Immediately after landing in Paris, grabbing our baggage, and venturing into the city to find our hotel, I had the bright idea to take what looked like a shortcut. This shortcut proved to be anything but, and we ended up in a very peculiar part of town that was housing a homeless man and his tent. The placement of such tent was on a balcony that gradually ramped downwards towards the dirty city streets. As we closed in on this homeless man's encampment, he started getting agitated and accused us of recording him. He quickly arose from his cluttered tent area and immediately closed the distance on me, luckily my wife had already passed by this man. He proceeded to scream broken English at me, and I tried defusing the situation but also trying to get a grip on my surroundings. I am not a small man and planned on hitting him with a judo toss over the balcony wall, I figured that would be easier to explain to the authorities if push came to shove. As my patience started to wear thin, my wife came over and started in on him and eventually he gave us enough room to escape. Thankfully I didn't have to toss him overboard, because it was about a ten foot drop to the concrete and surely he would have been critically injured. This encounter was a wake up call for us simple Americans and we were both on high alert the rest of the time we were in Paris.

It was truly a sad experience in Paris, so much rich Christian history in that city, yet when you walk the streets you are overwhelmingly surrounded by third worlders. In conclusion, if you decide to visit France whether it is for sight seeing or hunting, limit your time in Paris and always have a plan in case you're confronted by troubled "citizens".
 
I decided to do a self guided tour of Communa 13 in a rental car with my family in Medellin. Bad idea. One way out if you take a wrong turn. Felt like a scene from training day.
 
Any flight to or from Lagos Nigeria- A flight I've done at least 15 times. I'm pretty sure this is where the "Jetway Jesus" started

Also- the airport is sweltering, and there are random people in uniforms calling you over for bribes. Traffic is so bad that you leave 5hrs early for a 20 mile drive.
Can confirm this and I'll add...follow the local conditions there for the haboobs (dust storms coming off the Sahara). Why? Because at last note the Lagos airport doesn't have electronics necessary to get big planes in and out under bad conditions. Thus...a one week stay at the Radison Blu there turns into a week or two because your fixer advises 1) the trip overland to Ghana takes multiple days but if you really want to he'll do that and 2) while the trip to Abuja is shorter, he is unwilling to do it as he'd have to hire multiple security teams to get you there and insurance won't cover your dead body. Oh....and don't be fooled by the "lagoon side pool" at the Radison....its a swamp. And the buffet food gets REAL old real quick while the bar can't make a pizza to save its life.
 
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