The Unwanted Shuttle
On a flight from Philadelphia to Denver, late December 1990. As we get about an hour from Denver, the pilot tells us a blizzard has closed the Denver airport, and we need to divert, so we divert to a place called Gunnison, Colorado. Gunnison airport is small, and not really set up for large commercial airliners. As we approach, I look out the window and see mountain tops on either side.
The captain comes on and tells us to prepare for an emergency landing. Meaning stow your stuff, buckle your seatbelt, and assume the crash position, as in, put your head between your legs. Now I’m about 14 years old at the time, and traveling with my aunt, two cousins, and their two friends. My cousin Billy and I are joking about this situation, while my aunt is praying with my other cousin.
We land and need basically every foot of the runway to come to a stop. The pilot then has to get off the plane and make a phone call because we are now alone, hours from Denver. They get some shuttle buses to show up after about an hour, then we begin the SIX HOUR ride to Denver. That was a long day.
Story credit: Reddit / notsowitte