A Bumpy Night in Belgrade
Our *Worst* Flight Experience Ever
In All About Eve, when Bette Davis famously pauses on the staircase, does a three-quarter turn, and delivers one of her most iconic lines: “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!” I’m pretty sure she could be describing our maiden voyage to Belgrade, Serbia.
It was a rainy mid-August evening in 2017 and we were flying from Athens, Greece to Zagreb, Croatia with a layover in Belgrade. We’d never been to Belgrade before but it was on our list of Balkan cities to visit. Our Air Serbia flight from Athens to Belgrade was short and uneventful. We had a few hours to relax in the Belgrade airport before hopping on our next plane to Zagreb. We weren’t going to have time to explore the city, but at least we could eat some Serbian pizza and have a pint or two of Jelen at the airport café (which, as far as airport cafés go, was unusually comfortable and delicious, with lovely service to boot).
As we waited to board our flight from Belgrade to Zagreb, we watched a freakish lightning storm brewing outside the airport windows. Jagged bolts of lightning were crackling across the horizon, just above the tarmac where our tiny 80-seat propeller plane was parked. As much as we travel (we’ve literally been on hundreds of flights over the years), it may be surprising to reveal that I absolutely hate flying. I’m deathly afraid of leaving the ground and I think Judy Garland said it best in her private (and often rather humorous yet tragic) tape recordings: “What are we doing flying around in airplanes, for one thing? Even the birds don’t go up that high! We just don’t belong . . . we have to buckle ourselves in and hope. And there’s no hope and no oxygen! Now we don’t belong up there, now you know we don’t belong up there!” [Click here to hear it in her own words.]
After a particularly violent lightning strike and thunder crack virtually shook the terminal, torrential rain pelting the windows, I turned to my husband and said, “They can’t possibly be planning to fly in this, right?” No sooner had I spoken than the attendant at the gate picked up her phone to announce our flight was now boarding. The deliciously crunchy prosciutto, sun-dried tomato and arugula pizza suddenly began to churn in my stomach from the sheer terror of getting on this plane. I was flabbergasted. Surely they couldn’t think it safe to attempt to propel a giant hunk of metal through a lightning storm?
Apparently, they did.
With extreme trepidation, we ran from the gate to the plane, getting completely drenched, and boarded the puddle-jumper. As we settled into our incredibly claustrophobic seats, the only thing I could think of was an obscure 1965 album in my vinyl collection, a bizarre evangelical recording of a so-called “dramatic comparison to death,” entitled Flight F-I-N-A-L. I’d always thought the album was hilarious . . . until this moment.
It was literally the most terrifying flying experience of my life. Even my husband, who is never scared on planes, thought we might not make the one-hour flight to Zagreb. We passed through 45 minutes of a storm that had the small propeller plane jolting and tumbling through the air, at points hitting air pockets where it felt like we were going to fall out of the sky. There were sudden drops where we could count the seconds as the plane fell straight down. I was quietly chanting Nam Myōhō Renge Kyō and praying with my eyes closed to keep from having a panic attack.
And then, without warning, seated directly across from us in the last row of the plane, an adolescent girl traveling with her mother suddenly morphed into Linda Blair from The Exorcist and proceeded to projectile vomit her lunchtime burek all over the seat in front of her. She filled one barf bag and then another and then everyone in the immediate vicinity started handing her mother all of their own.
Desperately, we all turned around to beg and plead with the flight attendant seated at the back of the plane to help this poor girl. He shook his head robotically, like some kind of newly sentient AI bent on exterminating humankind, and said it was against the law for him to get up. It was horrific. The vomit was everywhere — all over the girl, her mom, and the passengers in front of them — and was slowly oozing down the aisle. At this point, we all started feeling queasy ourselves, the rancid smell wafting through the plane as it bounced about the sky like a volleyball. I honestly wasn't sure we were going to survive.
Thankfully, we did.
And fortunately for us, we had another opportunity to visit Belgrade (not via Air Serbia) in January of 2020. We had a few lovely weeks exploring the city before March hit and we, like much of the rest of the world, went into lockdown. That said, we were happy to have rented a beautiful apartment directly across from the historic Kalemegden Park, with unobstructed views from every room and two terraces off the bedroom and living room.
We stayed in Belgrade for seven months (we legally couldn’t leave or go anywhere else!) and managed to avoid getting Covid. During our stay, we took daily strolls in the park, often pausing for a bottle of wine on the walls outside the stunning Belgrade Fortress, perched high above the junction of the Sava and Danube rivers. We enjoyed amazing takeout from many of the city’s fantastic eateries — delectable dumplings from our favorite Chinese restaurant (sadly no longer in business), mouthwatering burgers and pulled pork sandwiches from Fat Boys, and dynamite phở from the incredible Istok Vietnamese restaurant.
Hopefully one day we’ll have a chance to return to this spectacular city . . . by car . . . and experience it in all its glory!
What a ride!
I was riveted reading the story or your horrific flight! Then I loved reading about Belgrade. I am always so astounded that these Eastern Europea cities are just as beautiful and cosmopolitan as Western Europe. I lived in Germany before the wall came down and those were not the images I remember seeing. I could just sit for hours and read about your travel ventures.