Veronica Stivala has had her fair share of travel disasters. She shares them for your amusement, and that you may at least avoid her pitfalls.

I’m writing this as I sit on a plane. The passengers sitting next to me have kept to themselves, but I remember one uncomfortable flight from Scotland when I found myself in a malt-uneasy situation. The passenger sitting next to me must have started his holiday celebrations early and was already suitably inebriated.

Although I suppose his intentions were good, I was not in the mood to join in his boozy embarkation. But he would have none of it and insisted, again and again, that I partake of whatever single malt he had on him. Sitting in a window seat I was feeling cornered. Short of feigning feeling ill to get him off my back, I finally found an escape strategy and let him pour some of his poison into my water bottle, with the promise that I would drink it at home. I have never sat in a window seat since.

While this incident may not qualify as a fully-fledged travel disaster, it definitely does not fall into my cabinet of pleasant memories. Disaster, like annoying neighbours, can, of course, strike wherever. However, perhaps we are more sensitive to this when we are on holiday, on a trip the very aim of which is to have fun and not have things go wrong. But of course they do, and often escalate precisely because we are in a new place, unfamiliar with the area, customs and the people.

Four hours, a cup of machine-tea and a packet of crackers later, we managed to escape. While many of my voyage fiascos were unfortunate, many were outside of my control

I have had my fair share of travel disasters – from being bitten by bedbugs, to contracting swine flu and getting a violent attack of food poisoning while in the middle of a wide and spacious area (ie, no convenience facilities available) in Paris. With a few more years of travel experience, and generally more years of familiarity with life in tow, I thought I could put such disasters behind me and ventured on my latest trip, to the US, with an element of confidence. I was wrong.

The disaster took the form of my finding myself on a bus, racing along the highway from Philadelphia to New York City at a pace so fast I began to wonder whether the driver had a death wish. The bus reeked too, and despite the many no smoking signs, someone was definitely lighting up a number of times. We sped past at least three Greyhound buses (the official bus company) and then our bus came to a halt.

Florida is notorious for time-share touts who ensnare unsuspecting passers-by.Florida is notorious for time-share touts who ensnare unsuspecting passers-by.

“Last stop,” shouted the driver and, confused, we disembarked with the other passengers onto a road in the middle of China Town. There was not a taxi in sight and for some strange reason, not even the policeman I asked knew where I could head to get one. We did eventually manage to get a taxi and we did also eventually find out from our guide book that we should have avoided the notorious China Buses, where crashes and ensuing fatalities were not unheard of. We had done our research over which company to chose, but clearly not well enough and thankfully this trip ended well.

I will also never forget that fateful day when, travelling in Florida with my parents, we fell victim to the treacherous timeshare vultures. Enticed by the promise of a lavish breakfast we headed over to one particular hotel. Four hours, a cup of machine-tea and a packet of crackers later, we managed to escape the trap, flustered, frustrated… and hungry.

An ill-advised bus trip left the writer on the wrong side of China Town, New York.An ill-advised bus trip left the writer on the wrong side of China Town, New York.

The funny thing is that I am typically a very low-risk person. Not only that, but I am careful to take precautions such as keeping my money in various formats and in various locations while travelling, avoiding dodgy places, reading up about the area, and so on and so forth. And yet, I have still found myself in tiffs. That said, while many of my voyage fiascos were unfortunate, many were outside of my control and not a result of my inattention or carelessness.

Although I really must bow my head in shame when it comes to the bedbug incident. This took place some five years ago, at a time when the travel website tripadvisor.com was well in place and which I could have and should have consulted beforehand. Instead, I consulted it way too late after my stay at a particular B&B when – in between itches, scratches and doses of antihistamines – I read up endless lists of warning messages on the site about the bug-infested accommodation I had picked.

Reading as much as possible is a solution, though part of the fun of travelling is being spontaneous and taking things as they come. I am also strongly aware about the worrying aspect that my travel calamities have all occurred in developed countries, and I have yet to try places where hygiene and general safety are lacking. To this I say, bring on the adventure (and the reading of more travel advice).

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