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Travel week: What was the worst journey you've ever taken?

21 replies

onthehushhush 0:00, reply

in the boot of a ford focus from Dover to Leeds.

whats_the_beef_chief 0:01, reply

Flying London to Sydney in economy. Sitting two rows away and travelling alone was an old man with a weathered face who looked like he'd been herding goats up a mountain for the last 70 years. Soon after take-off it became apparent that he'd pissed and shat himself. His seat neighbours (a mother and son) drew this to the attention of the FAs who escorted the poor bewildered soul to the loo but they presumably left him to his own devices because he returned to his seat in the same state. As his trousers were held up with string he probably couldn't undo the knot. His seat mates loudly insisted on being moved but were told there was not one free seat. The smell was bad enough from where I was sitting so I don't know how they coped. Someone vomited and no one nearby nearby accepted any food. A kinder person than I might've offered to help him but it got too much so I swallowed a couple of Temazepam and was thankfully knocked out until landing. After the Far-East stop I got back on the plane and saw that the old man was back in his seat. He had two new seat mates and I was thanking God I'd been allocated a different seat, many rows behind him, for the second leg.

relief_organist 16:02, reply

Trying to get the now wife to her parents Bristol home, whilst pissed, without letting her know that her Dad had died that day as her Mum wanted to break the news. "Your Dad? No, fine i think, your Mum just thought it would be nice for us all to get together on a Tuesday night with no notice"

tom_tit 15:24, reply

Eight hours on a coach from London to Alton Towers (via the M54!) for a works day out with a very bad or very unlucky driver, who got there an hour before the park closed. He then refused to stop off at a pub on the way back as he would have been over his hours, so we stripped an off-licence in Stafford of Peters Pies and cider, arriving back in London as the pubs shut.

sputnik1 15:03, reply

Any journey that takes me near Swindon.

deep_stoat 14:10, reply

Stuck under the sea in the Channel Tunnel for five hours, sharing a carriage with a school party.

sydbarretthomes 13:28, reply

Shouldn't this have been for yesterday?

spank_daley 13:35, reply

It's a tough call between any of my recent commutes on the Victoria Line...

mr_apricot 13:25, reply

Stuck in the back of a Nissan Micra with 4 precocious am-dram sorts on the way to a hateful murder mystery dinner party in rural Norfolk. I had a scalding hot lasagne on my lap and the dithering driver drove at no more than 40mph regardless of the road and slowed down to a near stop at traffic lights that were on green. The distance travelled was only about 20 miles but it felt like a lifetime. By the end of the return journey home I was close to snatching the wheel and steering us into a tree just to end the misery. There must have been an offer of sex involved as I can't think how else I would have found myself willingly going to a murder mystery evening through free choice.

abitlikeneeson 11:58, reply

The first time I met what are now the in-laws, we stayed with them for a weekend and due to me knowing they hated the rib's ex and he was a heavy smoker I had to waive my 20 a day habit for the duration. I spent the whole time daydreaming about smoking a fag at the station before we got our train home. Dad insisted on giving us a lift to station, fine I'll wait till he goes. The old fucker stayed with us, waving like a cunt, until the train pulled away. That journey.

spank_daley 11:30, reply

Stockwell to Edgware, via Bank, 6:13pm, Monday 6th February 2012

mount_st_nobody 11:17, reply

The time I had to walk home from Judo after shitting my pants. I couldn;t untie the knot in my Gi in time, and some of the other boys followed me the whole way home, laughing and pointing and drawing every stranger's attention along the way to the brown stains on my white trousers.

mrbradsteen 11:16, reply

There are no bad journeys, only bad travellers. Except when I had to sit in Dan McCarran airport for eight hours because United cancelled my flight out of Vegas. Cunts. Ding ding ding ding ding ding.

raskol 11:07, reply

The last trip home from university, 1990, knowing that I had no job, no money, no vision and that I was going to have to stay with my parents until it changed. With every mile I loathed each landmark more and more. Fled to Paris three weeks later.

annaglypta 10:28, reply

The M6.

absoluteshower 10:14, reply

Anything to do with First Great Western

petsco 8:48, reply

Travelling to Praia Da Luz with three kids.

bubastis 8:40, reply

sitting on a plane back from vancouver next to a smelly nun and a mate I'd fallen out with in calgary. even with an hour till we landed I was still praying for it to crash.

thegingerprince 7:24, reply

The one that has brought me to here. Sitting in my boxer shorts, typing nonsense into a message board, trying to delay the journey into work for yet another day where I will try earn enough money to keep the bailiffs from the door before coming home to an empty flat that has an aura of failed human contact. Well you asked, happy now?

roger_mycock 7:14, reply

Sometimes I love you, sir.

spank_daley 13:36, reply

Blackpool to London Virgin train on a Saturday evening line works meant we went through Manchester 3 times, eventually being redirected via the east coast line eventually arriving at Euston 5 hours late. Of course, virgin did not replenish the buffet bar so no food or drink, a load of pissed off potential marathon runners on the train weren't happy either.

whitemaninhammersmithpalais 4:28, reply