They couldn’t roll Eileen’s wheel chair, which she needs for sight as well as mobility issues, to the door of the plane for two reasons. First, they forgot to have the wheelchair she’d ordered available, and second, after she arrived at the gate, (How? I was afraid to ask) she had to board the old fashioned way, circa 1950, up a mobile set of steep narrow stairs. (I didn’t ask that, either)
I met her on this small jet at 7 AM leaving from Dayton, Ohio headed to Cincinnati, Ohio. This was a regional jet that could not be accessed by a jet way. Eileen was going back home to Hot Springs, Arkansas after visiting one of her daughters and son-in-law who are now retired in Dayton. Eileen told me she’d probably arrive back home after several connecting flights around 10 PM. By that time, I would have been asleep several hours back in my bed in a suburb outside of Boston.
I didn’t see her board because I was the last person to enter the cabin, having left the boarding line to wander off to get this photo. Word to wise: if you ever have a glorious sight that beckons you, alert authorities before you wander around the tarmac in search of the perfect framing. My behavior, circa 1950’s as well, nearly caused an airport terror alert.
At any rate, I sat down next to this petite woman wearing glasses and a sweet hat. She barely took up the seat and these days that means she is indeed a little bit of a thing. She talked about her gentleman friend back in Hot Springs who sang and recorded country songs and sometimes they both sang together and recorded a CD. In the course of the 20 minute flight, I got an education not because she had any inclination to teach me, but because I needed to learn.
Eileen’s Lesson #1 for me (I have several but I’m going to blog others on future posts) is this: Traveling alone when you are older with some health issues takes courage and the terror alert is the least of it.
The first thing you worry about is whether they’ll remember to have the wheelchair you ordered waiting for you. If they don’t, then you have to walk to the gate on your own. And, considering that gates can be a good 15 minute walk ( if you are robust) away from the “Departures” sidewalk, (sometimes longer, because it requires a shuttle bus to get to the different concourse), to say nothing of navigating the security lines–well, it’s as if you have climbed K2 without sherpas, before you even begin your 12 hour journey.
If you have mobility problems due to poor eyesight, as Eileen does, or frailty as many of today’s travelers do, you are utterly dependent upon airlines and the kindness of strangers to help you arrive at journey’s end. As another frail woman told me with her game face on, who I met subsequently in Cincinnati, “It’s not been a good day so far.”
Add to this that you are a member of “The Invisibles”, (not a voluntary membership by the way)–the term I use to describe my sweet growing group of folks (myself, included) in the Waving or Drowning™ Podcasts, who can’t get the world at large to see them even if they are right in front of them. (E.G.: Women over 50, both sexes over 80, American consumers of all ages and gender.)
The next time you travel, look around, they are all around you. Look not just for stunning sunrises like I did, but for a fellow traveler, someone whose frailty embarrasses them, but doesn’t keep them from traveling; someone whose courage may need your kindness to get them from Point A to Point B.
Tick. Tock. (It’s a cliche, but I’m saying it anyway) It won’t be too long before we’ll be the one waiting alone at the bottom of the mountain by ourselves watching everyone rush by us with fading eyesight or making frail legs begin the long journey ahead of us. We, too, shall need a hand or two from a stranger to help us arrive home.
Eileen and her male friend sing Dolly Parton and George Strait songs but she thinks the two of them sing the spiritual, “I’ll Fly Away” best.
I don’t know about her singing voice, people, but if you fly, you’ll feel blessed to have her sitting next to you on a beautiful Sunday morning.
To look at me, no one would ever guess that I am one of those disabled individuals that you described. Embarrassed that I need assistance. I too have been on the 1950’s wheelchair routine – what a mess!
Thing is, that if you are like me and don’t look ill or frail, it is all that much worse for you to travel. People feel as though you are trying to take advantage of the system. I ask for bulk-head seats because I know I will probably throw up during the flight and they are normally located in the front of the plane where I will disturb the least amount of people, and Ill have more room to throw up descreetly.
Well, I can tell you that I haven’t been treated so well from either staff or other passengers. They think its all an act. Stewardesses have purposefully hit me out of spite with their trolleys to put me in my place – and to show me exactly what they think of me.
Disabled people don’t always sit in a wheelchair, or have limbs missing, or are bleeding where you can see. Like me, you could have a rare brain disease and be far worse off than people can ever imagine, plus all of the stress and hassle of travel.
Still, I try to take it all in my stride. I travel out of necessity. I try and make my journey pleasant along the way. I talk to whomever if I am able. And I try and smile.