Author: Kash Brown
It was a long night.
The next day, some of us could barely eat. Our nerves were still on edge. A few of us wandered around the hotel to pass the time and keep our minds occupied until the bus arrived to take us back to the airport.
The hotel had a game room with ping pong and pool tables, a fitness center, and a massive aquarium that made for great photo ops. Outside, there were two large lap pools, though they were unfortunately closed off during our stay.
To help ease everyone’s nerves, Bill, our group lead, challenged a few students to a game of ping pong. Surprisingly, he held his own! He had some slick moves and impressive footwork that caught us off guard. After a few competitive rounds, it was time to break for lunch.
A few students went down to grab a bite before it was time to check out of the hotel.
We returned to the airport in waves on the charter bus. Once our entire group had arrived, one student realized she couldn’t find her passport. Understandably, panic set in. There was a possibility she wouldn’t be able to board the flight home.
She emptied out her suitcase and bags on the floor in distress, but still no luck. Bill quickly called the hotel and asked them to search her room, but they claimed they hadn’t found anything. I suggested splitting up, two people could go back to the hotel, and two could head to the U.S. Embassy nearby (just 15 minutes from the airport) to see what could be done. But Bill, being the only one fluent in the local language, didn’t want to risk anyone else missing the flight.
Bill contacted the U.S. Embassy, and thankfully, they stepped in and applied some pressure. By the time he and the student arrived back at the hotel, the staff had located the passport, tucked beside the bed, and handed it over. They rushed back to the airport and made it just in time to board. It was a stressful moment, but the entire group was grateful that everything worked out in the end.
Even though our new plane was different, the tension in the air was intense. Every sound, every bump, every dip felt like a trigger. But eventually, we made it. When we finally touched down in San Francisco, we were relieved. Exhausted, but safe. Some of us shared suitcases to fit all the goods we’d bought in China. We took one last photo as a group, then went our separate ways. Some meeting family, others hopping into ride shares.
That should have been the end of the story. But then came the response from United Airlines. They offered one person in our group a flight credit—and nothing more.
As a group, we submitted two formal claims explaining the trauma and emergency situation we went through. Both were denied.
We even sought legal advice, but were told that without physical injury, PTSD is difficult to prove, and we likely wouldn’t get far with a lawsuit.
So now, we’ve each submitted individual claims, still waiting, still hoping for accountability. Let me be clear, this wasn’t just a flight delay.
It was a life-threatening, high-stress, emergency evacuation.
One that has stayed with us and shaken many of us in ways we’re still processing.
I’m thankful we’re safe.
I’m grateful to be home.
But this experience left a mark. And I sincerely hope United Airlines reconsiders what it means to support their passengers, not just when things go right, but especially when things go terribly wrong.
This was supposed to be a farewell to an amazing trip. Instead, it became a reminder of how quickly things can change, and how important it is to advocate for what’s right.
