From luggage hybrids and stairs attached during take-off, to a 3m drop to the tarmac, airline anecdotes from Europe just make Australia's time delay irritations seem like plane sailing.

I was flying from Singapore to Cairns recently when the captain announced a 40-minute delay.

This otherwise unremarkable man with stripes on his shoulders was transporting a hundred lives plus their luggage in a class-conscious rocket across oceans and deserts, even smouldering volcanoes, yet when he announced a minor delay we groaned in unison and questioned the morality of his mother.

We may have been shoved in like sardines but there was still enough legroom for a kneejerk reaction.

Commercial aviation has become a mundane miracle and it’s a compliment to the industry that passengers complain about flight delays. Inconvenience is based on frustration of expectation. The fact we expect airlines to be punctual (and moan when they’re not) means more often than not they’re on time.

But when we’re jetlagged, flatulent and fed up with polystyrene food, we sometimes forget the operational intricacies of flying people around the planet and predicting what time they’ll arrive.

Given the complex nature of the task, something will invariably impinge on the perfect flight, if not a delay then a seat that won’t recline, a dodgy headset, a leaky loo…

Whether you’re sipping sav blanc in business class or squabbling over the armrest in economy, fly even the best airline enough times and some sort of inconvenience will rear its head.

During class at university many years ago, my journalism lecturer criticised a fellow student’s travel story because she had started it with an anecdote regarding her nightmare flight to the Greek islands, rather than simply writing about the Greek Islands.

"Everyone has airline nightmare stories," scorned the lecturer. "That’s what airlines are for."

It is in honour of that lecturer, whose advice I have often ignored, that I recount my own nightmare airline anecdotes in the hope that next time your Virgin Australia flight takes off 10 minutes late, or the Qantas check-in staff are less than polite, you thank your lucky Jetstars you’re in Australia, because in Europe’s crowded skies things are far more "interesting".

Sleeping pills at the ready, I was checking in with Alitalia for a marathon flight to Sydney via Milan, Frankfurt and Singapore.

"How many bags to check in?" asked the Monica Bellucci look-alike.

"Due," I replied, in rudimentary Italian.

Bellucci lowered her head and looked over her shoulder.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to check them in?" she asked softly. "We’ve been losing quite a lot lately."

On a Ryanair flight from London Stansted, I was sitting in the front row (which on any other airline might sound glamorous) when we pushed back from the gate right on time.

But elation turned to alarm when the passenger beside me pointed out the window and shouted: "Hang on, stop! The stairs are still attached!"

The Polish stewardess banged frantically on the cockpit door and the pilots hit the brakes thinking Bin Laden was on board. The stewardess opened the forward door, the aerobridge was pushed clear and we started over as though nothing had happened.

Which it hadn’t.

"Shouldn’t you at least fill out a form?" the passenger asked.

The stewardess’s fair Polish skin turned pink.

Red-eye flights are the worst. In Istanbul, waiting for a KLM flight to Amsterdam, when the boarding call was made passengers filed along the gangway as though sleepwalking. Forget caffeine or alarm clocks – there is no better wake-up call than a missing aircraft and a 3m drop to the tarmac.

Flying is a leap of faith but in Istanbul, they take that literally.

Some airlines think of everything to counter the potential for fear of flying. Others don’t.

I once booked a flight with Alitalia from London to Palermo. I paid online, printed my e-ticket and was shocked to read my booking reference number: Z75DIE. I am surely the only passenger in the history of aviation who has been spooked by his receipt.

On another Alitalia flight (are you picking up a theme here?) during take-off from Rome my view of the Coliseum was obscured by a spider in my window, clinging to its web, waiting on a passing insect and counting its Frequent Flyer points.

I thought aeroplane windows were supposed to be airtight. Isn’t that why 747s don’t have sunroofs? With the Vatican passing beneath us it felt like the right place to pray.

For some seasoned travellers, waiting at the baggage carousel inspires more fear than the flight itself. More and more airlines are charging passengers for the privilege of losing or damaging their luggage. It’s happened to most of us, but for me this was a first.

The relief of seeing my suitcase on the rubber serpent turned to horror as I realised the lock was smashed, the case was half open and only held together by an improvised combination of sticky tape and occy straps.

Closer inspection revealed other people’s personal effects among my own, including a harmonica and a fedora hat. Had I shared a flight with Bob Dylan?

Despite the current industrial turmoil at Qantas, and the troubles at Tiger, in my opinion Australian airlines are the best things in the sky other than birds.

Yes, flights are often late, staff are sometimes rude, luggage frequently goes on longer holidays than its owners … but after winging it in European skies for the past 10 years I can assure you that such inconveniences are the least of a passenger’s problems.

So next time your captain announces a delay: sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.

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