I guess the best “deal” I ever got was from Delta after a forced landing in Las Vegas (I was flying LA to Memphis) due to engine failure. This was many years before 911, when you could still carry liquids onto a plane and talk back to an airport security guard without fear of arrest.

The ordeal itself was harrowing, starting with the captain coming on the plane’s intercom and saying a bunch of stuff in a slurred voice no one could understand as if he were drunk. Then a stew came on and repeated what he had said - that one of our engines had gone out and we should not be alarmed at the sight of fuel streaming from the wings as the plane dumped its fuel in preparation for an “unscheduled” landing. “This is not an emergency landing,” she said. “This is just a precaution.” Followed by an explanation of how we needed to put our heads down in the emergency landing position, etc. when the plane landed.

I was almost in tears, staring out the window and trying to convince myself everything would be okay, when a nice little old lady in the next seat patted my knee and told me not to worry. I looked over and she was telling her rosary, which didn’t reassure me at all!

We landed without incident; however, apparently no one had told the airport to expect us and we sat in the plane for three hours. They finally brought one of those portable step things out to the middle of the runway and we disembarked and walked to a gate. Then no one at the airport would acknowledge that we existed. We stood in a long row at the customer service desk for hours without moving; finally we sat down. By now we were pretty surly but also feeling very relieved and almost giddy to be alive. About then the young woman behind me in line said, “I have three bottles of champagne in my carry-on luggage. I was saving it for a special occasion, and I think this is it!” The guy next to her popped the cork and the three of us passed the bottle around, drinking warm champagne out of the bottles like very upscale winos. I think airport security probably thought that telling us we couldn’t drink champagne out of the bottle while sitting on the floor in the middle of the airport just wasn’t worth the trouble with two hundred ticked off customers ready to riot at the slightest provocation.

Anyway, Delta did eventually acknowledge our existence, and to make up for the way we were treated, they gave us tickets to a Vegas show, hotel rooms at a casino for the night, and a hundred bucks apiece in tokens. I ended up on a flight out of there at 2 am; I think my newfound champagne buddies spent the night together. It was certainly an experience to remember.