If I could fly privately I would. Sure, everybody says that, but after my last three commercial flight experiences, it seems the airlines are becoming less like transportation and more like a hostage situation every day.

Set to return last month from Schedulers and Dispatchers on a rainy day in California, I headed to the airport well in advance of my JetBlue redeye, figuring that with nothing better to do in a soggy San Jose, I’d check in, ditch my luggage and relax over a fine airport establishment dinner. Surprised when none of the video screens above the ticket counters displayed a JetBlue logo, I noticed a small sign perched on top of one of them stating the JetBlue counter would open three hours hence, effectively tethering me with my luggage in the check-in area until then. In the intervening 180 minutes there, I noted I was far from the only passenger inconvenienced thusly, a point I conveyed when the airline employees finally took their places behind the counter.

Boarding for the 11 p.m. flight went smoothly, and everyone was seated for departure when we were informed that an instrument light tied to the airspeed indicator system was not functioning, necessitating a visit from a technician. Fear not, the captain said, this should be rectified shortly. An hour later, all was not well. We would have to deplane while they shut down all power to the airplane and rebooted the system, which in most cases should resolve the situation. “Leave your belongings in place,” the crew added optimistically.

Since the terminal was technically closed, an airline employee was stationed to make sure we didn’t attempt to leave the immediate gate area. After yet another hour, the captain notified us that the flight was cancelled and we would have to retrieve our belongings from the airplane (handled in the order in which we boarded), then collect our luggage from the carousel and visit the ticket counter, which would be reopened. Recognizing several industry executives in the same predicament, I jokingly suggested that one of them should call in a favor and whistle up a private aircraft to rescue us. Since there were no JetBlue flights from SJC to the New York area the next day, the early people on line (or those like me who called customer service while waiting to reclaim their belongings) were rebooked on a 7 a.m. flight out of San Francisco, which involved a 40-mile taxi ride through the continuing deluge.  As we arrived at SFO in the middle of the night, there was no mention of a food voucher or any such niceties. Net sum: a $50 credit toward a future flight along with an additional $25 credit to address my complaint at having to linger in the check-in area for three hours.

In the next example, I had decided to head down to Heli-Expo, held this year in Orlando, a week ahead of the show with the family for a vacation. It was to be my four-year-old son’s first flight, and a memorable one it was, though not for any positive reasons. What should have been a simple two-and-a-half-hour trip on United ended up taking 11-and-a-half hours, involving three airplanes, three separate de-icings, two mechanicals and an emergency diversion to Dulles. The first aircraft pushed back from the gate an hour late because of weather delays to connecting flights. Then after a lengthy de-icing wait at busy Newark, the crew noted an inconsistency with a bleed-air valve, which required a return to gate.

Switching to the next departing flight, we again took off an hour late, but as soon as we began climbing, my two sons along with every other child on board (and possibly even a few adults) began crying and clutching their ears. The pilot came on and acknowledged a cabin pressurization problem and stated he had already filed to land in Washington, D.C. We could not rise above the weather and therefore spent the entire flight in whiteout conditions. Upon landing at Dulles, a phalanx of emergency vehicles was waiting and turned to follow our progress down the runway. By this point, I had already conceded spending the night in our nation’s capital, rather than the happiest place on earth, but miraculously, another vacant airplane was parked at one of the gates and we were told we’d be continuing our odyssey aboard it. We waited an hour and a half for another crew to arrive to operate it. We finally were airborne again sometime around midnight, landed in Orlando after 2 a.m. and arrived at our hotel around 3:30 a.m. United’s mea culpa consisted of 2,500 non-premier status miles deposited in my Mileage Plus account for the first instance and 5,000 for the second. My wife, who doesn’t hold the same frequent flier status, got less. The boys, ages seven and four, received a grand total of $125 each in future flight credits (must be used within the next year, etc.) for their ordeal.

Finally, for the return after the helicopter show, I was scheduled for a 5:20 p.m. departure, but with snow in the Northeast, I wasn’t entirely surprised when as I began preparing to depart the Orange County Convention Center on Thursday afternoon, I received a text informing me that my flight was cancelled. Calling the airline I found they had nothing else available that night, or even the next day. Saturday, they informed me, was looking promising. The service agent then noted they had one seat left on a morning flight out of Tampa, so at 6 a.m. the next morning I found myself headed west on I-4 across the state. Upon my return, it took an hour and 15 minutes after landing before the first piece of luggage from my flight appeared on the carousel. When I inquired with the baggage supervisor about the delay and identified myself as an aviation journalist, they apologized stating, “I’m not proud to work for this airline.”

They say bad luck comes in threes, and I certainly hope so in this case. I’m due to head back to Shanghai next month for ABACE and I can’t wait to see what further indignities the airline fates have in store for me. Any private operators out there heading that way? I might just be the guy in Terminal C at Newark looking to hitch a ride.