Mostly True Memoirs
Whacky Wheelchair Service At The Airport
I flew home solo with my funky knee.
The wheelchair service at the airport met me at the curbside, wheeled me through security, and settled me at the gate.
However, when the gate workers arrived to prepare for the flight, they were furious.
Five wheelchairs were waiting to board.
“FIVE wheelchairs?” one of the workers bellowed, “We’ll never get this plane boarded on time.”
Ouch, I’ve been shamed.
“Can you walk at all?” she demanded of each of us.
To board this particular plane, you had to go outside and walk up a steep, three-level ramp.
No way could I do that on crutches.
The airport lady was furious.
My condition is temporary, but the gentleman next to me was elderly and perhaps permanently confined to a wheelchair.
I felt bad for him.
He did not deserve that kind of disrespect.
At any rate, we boarded the plane.
They stored my crutches in the overhead bin.
I spent the entire flight terrified.
If there’s any kind of emergency, I will have no access to my crutches.
I anxiously imagined every kind of horrifying situation possible.
I’m never watching Air Disasters again.
We landed without incident.
Until, that is, it was time to get off the plane.
There were no wheelchairs to meet us.
They were supposed to be there.
The flight attendants couldn’t leave the plane until all the passengers were off.
They were freaking out.
They had other flights to catch.
One of them was certain she was going to get fired because this same thing happened recently, and she missed her next flight.
One wheelchair finally showed up.
For five of us.
The other four people had connecting flights, so I let them go first.
Finally a wheelchair showed up for me, and I was eventually deposited securely into my waiting ride home.
Whew, I flew home safely.
I sincerely hope I never have to do that again.