I was at Frankfurt airport, returning to the UK, 13 September, 2001. It was full of Americans who just wanted to get home. The wanted to do what they could, they wanted to be with their families, they wanted to the world to be like it was 3 days earlier. There was nothing to be done, there were no transatlantic flights.
I know how they felt, because I am a human being. They were not complaining.
But, these people heading to the alps were sleep deprived, and trying to make good television. I bet it's not even close to the worst day of their lives. I've had a pretty blessed life, and I've had a much worse flight-related experience this year. I'd like to be young enough that having my ski holiday f*cked up was even potentially the worst thing ever.