Back in the early 1970s I was at university in Manchester (well, Salford, actually). During the Summer, BEA (which became BA shorthaul) had a Sunday charter out of Blackpool and had to position a One-Eleven up from Manchester in the morning - a 20-minute flight - and back late afternoon.
They decided to sell daytrips MAN-BLK for two pounds, advertised in the local press and aimed basically at first-time flyers. A bunch of us students made the trip (the Uni Transport Soc even paid half the fare).
Coming back into Manchester, the aircraft was all over the sky. It was the wildest ride I've ever had, before or since. I quite like 'interesting' flights so at first I was revelling in it. I was convinced that the captain was stirring the stick a bit because he knew the back was full of first-timers.
As things got worse my enthusiasm waned - I thought he was going a bit far and I really got quite scared. In fact extremely scared. After we finally got down, he made an announcement and he genuinely sounded as though he'd been through an experience himself. Humblest apologies for the landing, the crosswind had been right on the limit, any more and we would have ended up in Birmingham.
I later heard (don't know if it's true) that the 1-11 was a real dog in crosswinds.