My First Flight Experience – A Journey I’ll Never Forget

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My very first flight journey began in September 2024 with high hopes, excitement and quite a few unexpected turns.

I had originally booked a Lufthansa flight from Bangalore to Munich to Manchester, but I had no idea that I needed a transit visa, even for just a 55-minutes layover in Munich. I found this out only during check-in at Bangalore airport, when the airline staff broke the news. My heart sank because I couldn’t board the flight, couldn’t get a refund since it wasn’t a premium ticket, and I lost nearly £780. I returned home, disappointed and stressed. 

Two weeks later, on September 23rd, I rebooked a different route via IndiGo and Turkish Airlines from Coimbatore to Delhi to Istanbul to Manchester—three flights, but thankfully it was all a connecting flight, so I didn’t have to handle my 50kg of luggage at each airport.

  • Coimbatore to Delhi: This journey was smooth and even a bit exciting. I landed early, checked in without trouble, and got my boarding pass. But then the twist began...

  • Delhi to Istanbul: The flight was delayed by 4 hours. As someone new to airports, I didn’t know that gate numbers can change. Only when they called out for the last boarding did I realize the gate had moved but luckily, it was close by. Onboard, the flight was exhausting. I couldn’t sit comfortably, the passengers around me were dull, and with no network on my phone, I felt isolated. I finally dozed off for 6 hours straight.

  • Istanbul Madness: Due to the earlier delay, I had to run to catch my next flight to Manchester. In the chaos at international arrival check-in, I lost my Fastrack watch and a special bracelet with “Leo” engraved on it both deeply sentimental to me. With just minutes to spare, I dashed across to Gate D9, which is miles away, dragging my cabin luggage, sweating and breathless.

  • Istanbul to Manchester: I was physically drained. I hadn’t eaten anything proper at any of the airports, and flight food didn’t lift my spirits. When I boarded, I couldn’t even lift my cabin bag to the overhead bin and to my dismay, no one offered to help… until one kind uncle stepped up.  That little kindness mattered so much. Boom, I finally got some water, had a surprisingly good white sauce pasta, and felt the first wave of relief.

When I finally landed in Manchester, it was like finishing a marathon I never trained for. The trip was chaotic, stressful, and at times heartbreaking but also taught me more than any textbook ever could.

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