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- 30 Haziran 2025 Pazartesi 14:00
- 🌬 24 °C
- Yükseklik: 120 m
YunanistanKlouvas37°26’7” N 25°20’46” E
Go Around to get to Mykonos
30 Haziran, Yunanistan ⋅ 🌬 24 °C
The earliest morning start today with a 3:15am wake-up for my flight to Mykonos, Greece. I’d deliberately avoided crack-of-dawn flights in my planning, but since this trip to Mykonos wasn’t part of the original plan, I took what flights I could. Staying at the Novotel near the airport let me sleep a little longer. Had I known the Bolt driver would be trying to break land speed records, I could have squeezed in an extra 10 minutes. Ending the ride before we even arrived at the terminal, he says, “I give you five stars, I need five stars from you too,” staring at me while driving and expecting me to rate him immediately. “I’ll do it later,” I say. I should’ve said I didn’t have Wi-Fi—my response seemed to piss him off and make his right foot heavier.
Getting out of the car, he says, “Five stars now yes?” I say I have, even though I haven’t. I hate this pushy tactic to force good reviews. I’m guessing he needs them—his driving was shocking. He spent more time muting alarms on his car and phone than concentrating on the road—all at 120km/h in a 50 zone. Inside the terminal, I check in and give him three stars—more than he deserved, but any lower and the app wants detailed feedback I can’t be bothered giving.
Unlike the chaos of previous summers, where Amsterdam couldn’t cope with the surge in travel, there were no queues for check-in or security this morning. It seems KLM leaves the early flights to Transavia, as the departure board begins the day in green logos before slowly turning KLM blue.
The only queues were at the two cafés open post-security at this early hour. I grabbed a water and croissant at one, and a Coke and banana bread at another, then made my way to the gate. Flying within Schengen means no passport control, making it an easy door-to-gate experience.
I’m working my way through the low-cost carriers this trip, with Transavia the carrier of choice today. Given I was off to Mykonos, I expected this to be the homo express, but was disappointed to find very few fellow gays waiting at the gate. Not that there was much time to scope it out—boarding for the 6am departure began right on time at 5:20. The 737-800 flying me to Greece was fitted with green seats matching the airline brand. I was in the last boarding group and made my way to row 28, settling into window seat 28A.
The seat had decent padding, solid legroom, and—luxury of luxuries—a real seat pocket, complete with a magazine and safety card. Far posher than Ryanair’s laminated seatbacks and no pockets. “Boarding complete” came over the PA and I looked up to see an empty aisle and two empty seats next to me. Winner winner, chicken dinner—super poor man’s business class for this three-hour hop down to Greece.
The Dutch captain was informative, detailing our route in both Dutch and English. We made the long taxi to another province (a.k.a. that far-away runway), took off to the north, then swung around over Amsterdam to head southeast. The morning sky over the Netherlands was stunning—a perfect parting view.
We tracked across Germany, passed over Prague and Budapest, then flew along the western edge of Romania before crossing Bulgaria and arriving over Greece and the Aegean Sea. With my breakfast earlier being underwhelming, I ordered a chicken roll from the trolley. As the first flight of the day, it was fresh—and as far as airline food goes—tasty and hit the spot well.
We began our approach into Mykonos, and the captain advised of possible turbulence due to strong winds. We passed to the east of the island before looping around and approaching from the north to face the winds head-on. It was all smooth sailing until we crossed the coastline, where the bumps began. Nothing too scary, but enough to feel like the pilots were earning their keep today. We sank, ballooned, sank again, and wobbled as we crossed the runway threshold. The left wing dropped just a little too low for comfort, and seconds later, the engines roared back to life—we were going around.
Despite taking over 550 flights, this was only my third go-around. They’re a perfectly normal and safe procedure, but the cabin chatter (in Dutch) got very excited as we climbed again, rewarded with a stellar view of Mykonos old town and harbour. Once level, the captain explained what happened and said we’d have one more attempt—if that didn’t work, we’d be heading to Athens.
We circled a nearby island—bone dry but ringed with stunning beaches—before flying over the airport again and turning back toward the same approach path. This time, the winds made the approach even rougher. Not long after crossing the coast, those engines roared again—we were off for a second go-around.
Turns out we’d had a wind shear warning, which explains the early go-around. Wind shear is a sudden change in wind speed or direction over a short distance that can cause abrupt changes in altitude or airspeed—not ideal when flying low and slow. So, off to Athens we went, where it was also windy but calm enough for a safe landing 20 minutes later.
We parked at a remote stand and the captain explained they’d figure out when it was safe to try Mykonos again. It might be a while—they might disembark us, or maybe not. Ten minutes later, the crew came around with free water and soft drinks. The cabin cheered—small wins. We didn’t wait long though. Just enough time to refuel, have a drink and a tinkle, and then the first officer was back on the PA announcing we were giving Mykonos another go.
Of course, I was tracking the situation like a nerd on FlightRadar24. A few other planes had gone around, but none had diverted—only us. I’m guessing the captain was the pilot flying this leg, as the first officer made all the announcements. A short 20-minute hop later, we wobbled over the coast and bounced down on the runway. The cabin erupted with applause and cheers. Welcome to Mykonos!
Disembarking via the rear stairs, the wind was wild. The walk across the tarmac was guided by eight marshallers—full employment in Greece? Baggage delivery was weird. It felt like they had one cart shuttling bags back and forth. Most people were gone when a staff member called out, “No more bags.” My AirTag suggested otherwise—my bag was just on the other side of the wall. A few minutes later, the carousel whirred back to life, and six more bags came out—mine included.
A quick (six-minute) but extortionate taxi ride later—40 fucking Euros—I checked into my queer-friendly resort in Mykonos. Soon I was sitting by the pool, sipping a beer, and eating something delicious. Welcome to Greece.Okumaya devam et
GezginWow! Always fun when flying. What stop off for the taxi