The holidays just past are best forgotten by those trapped by the snow in Denver, or stranded in Heathrow by a blizzard, or, as I was, consigned to wandering New Delhi airport, waiting for the fog to lift.

Bad weather, however, offers rare opportunities. For me it meant being handled — and mishandled — by three airlines in turn.

When conditions are perfect, little distinguishes one airline from the next. But what when wild weather hits? The results of this impromptu test are both surprising and alarming.

By the second day of 2007, when my flight to Newark, N.J., from Delhi was due to take off, there had been no Continental flights out of India’s capital for two days. A forlorn scrap of paper scrawled with “December 31” was stuck up behind the desk staff, who were alternately battling their own weariness and angry customers.

Traveling on an American airline from a distant and often alien place like India has an attraction: Once you have made it to check-in you can relax, safe in the knowledge that your concerns have been handed to people who understand your needs. But there was nothing reassuring about Continental’s operations that night.

Unlike the lines for other airlines, Continental’s customers had long since given up orderly waiting. They swarmed around the desks demanding information, seats, management, and refunds. Once mild-mannered customers had reached the snapping point. Women and children were crying; men were shouting and threatening.

A large family of Americans of Indian descent were complaining loudly that they had been sent to a hotel with a promise they would be booked on the early flight the following day. But despite repeated calls to Continental, they had received no confirmation. The plane on which they were booked had escaped the fog, but the family arrived too late to board. Hundreds found themselves in a similar state, betrayed by the airline and consigned to another day of waiting without explanation.

The ground staff were in such a state of fatigue and shock that they seemed unaware of the mayhem they were causing. Through our travel agent, my family and I discovered it was impossible for a second Continental flight to depart that night as the plane was stuck in Mumbai. Nonetheless, fully aware the flight would be canceled Continental staff insisted that all those booked on the notional flight wait on line to be given a redundant boarding pass. Only an hour before the flight was scheduled to leave would it be cancelled.

As full-fare Business First passengers — which you might imagine would count for something — we asked to be transferred to another airline. But we were told that Continental had limited arrangements with other carriers, even when others were flying when Continental was not. Eventually it was agreed that we could board an Air Canada flight.

Where the Continental staff were brusque and feckless, the Air Canada crew was warm and welcoming. As we settled in our seats, the pilot and chief flight attendant explained that although we were good to go, the fog showed little sign of lifting. The plane had enough fuel to wait for three hours before we either took off or returned to the gate. The pilot updated us on visibility and weather conditions. Sandwiches and soft drinks were handed around.

After two hours, the flight was canceled, calmly, courteously, and with expressions of regret. The flight attendants offered advice on travel the next day. “Now this is only a rumor, but we thought you might like to know: The flight is being rescheduled for 2 p.m. tomorrow afternoon,” a flight attendant said.

For us, it meant returning to the Continental chaos the following day. There was such a backlog of passengers that Continental could not guarantee it could fly us out. Ultimately, having threatened to buy tickets from another airline and facing a refund battle with Continental back home, we were allowed to board an Air France flight to Paris.

We like to make fun of the French, but when you are looking for a well-ordered, comfortable, well-oiled respite from airport madness — Air France is a point. Its fleet is under-resourced, its seating creaky and outdated, but its hospitality and cuisine are never compromised, which translates into a welcoming glass of chilled champagne in a real glass — more than the Met Opera bar can manage — and food and wines impeccably cooked and served, and eaten with metal silverware. (Why do the French believe terrorists will not wield the knives against them? It was no time to ask.)

In Paris, we approached the Continental desk with the same trepidation as in Delhi. A vast crowd was shoving its way toward the gate. After 20 minutes, we were given a security check, and then bawled at by desk agents, telling us to get to the back of the line. We had transferred from one circle of hell to the next.

Safely back in New York, I asked Continental for an explanation. How can a top American airline treat its passengers in such a cavalier way? Does it impose different standards in India than from in Indiana? What is being done about the failing staff in Delhi?

Continental’s public relations manager, David Messing, said he regretted any inconvenience; he did not know how many passengers had complained. He had read in the press about the fog at Delhi, but had not heard anyone at Continental talk about the chaos or whether anything was being done to avoid a repetition.

Not very reassuring, is it?

nwapshott@nysun.com