It’s true I caused a BA flight to be cancelled – here’s why I’m glad I did

Everything was going well until we started our descent into Gatwick.

As we were crossing the French coast, the pilot came over the microphone to announce that unfortunately, a plane was stuck on the runway below us and that we would have to circle around it while they sorted it out. Ten minutes later, he made another announcement: “The plane on the runway below us is still stuck,” he told us. “We will have to divert to Heathrow.”

On arrival at Heathrow, the captain informed us that after refuelling we would be making the ‘short hop’ to Gatwick. He then invited passengers without hold luggage to disembark at Heathrow if they wished. This seemed like a very good idea to me.

I grabbed my luggage from the overhead bin and headed to the front entrance of the plane. Two other passengers joined me and the three of us walked out the door to the top of the metal staircase that was already in place.

All we had to do, I guess, was wait for the three of us to arrive for ground transportation to take us to the terminal. That That was the mistake.

For reasons I still cannot understand, the airport authorities decided that even though all three of us were ready and willing to disembark, responding to the captain’s invitation, it could not happen.

Apparently, since Gatwick was the intended destination, everyone had to get off at Gatwick – and that included the three of us, even though we were no longer physically on the plane but standing on the platform outside the cockpit.

I’m not a troublemaker by nature. For some reason, several police vehicles had gathered at the foot of the steps. Many of the officers were talking on their walkie-talkies. I think I would have ended up letting myself be led, disgruntled, into the cabin. But it wasn’t as simple as that.

One of my two companions was a woman who, to be honest, was on the verge of hysteria. “I absolutely cannot get back on the plane,” she cried. “I have just lost my husband in a plane crash. This morning I had a hard time getting on the plane in Malaga. I just cannot imagine getting back on the plane now, for another take-off and another landing. No, I will not. I absolutely will not.”

In the end, the authorities opted for the nuclear option. Rather than letting the three of us, handbags in hand, get into one of the police vehicles and head to the arrivals hall, they decided to redesignate the flight – not as a Malaga-Gatwick flight, but as a Malaga-Malaga Airport flight. Heathrow Airport flight. We could be allowed to take off since we could now be considered to have “reached our intended destination”. This effectively meant that they were cancelling the flight.

I am sorry, truly sorry, for the inconvenience caused to other passengers, some of whom no doubt had cars or relatives waiting for them at Gatwick, and who found themselves disembarking willingly or unwillingly at Heathrow.

I am as willing as anyone to take responsibility for my share of the blame when things go wrong. For example, if I try to make scrambled eggs for breakfast and they end up sticking inextricably to the pan, I admit it immediately.

But this time, I’m glad I stuck it out. And there was at least one passenger—this poor woman whose husband had just died in a plane crash—who thanked me for it.