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Flying High
Written by Chloe on Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Soon after I started following transabled.org, Claire posted "Weirdness at the Airport". "Wow!" I thought, "This woman has the balls of a mountain goat!" (Umm… ovaries maybe).
There she was, not only wheeling around with such astonishing confidence, but taking on all the challenges of negotiating airports and flying. I wanted to be like Claire; but it felt so impossibly out of reach. Not only had I never owned a wheelchair, but I had also told Michael First around then that it would be absolutely impossible for me to use a wheelchair in public because I would be far too self-conscious about it. Did I have the balls for this? I have petted, and talked to, mountain goats high up in wilderness areas. I have seen the terrain they tackle, but I wouldn’t attempt it.
Ever since reading that post it has been in my mind that flying with a wheelchair would be the ultimate milepost signifying that I had made it. The long awaited day finally arrived…
The occasion was a family gathering in another state. Even my sister was flying in from England. Although I had told her about my BIID two years ago, she had yet to experience what it would be like being around me with a leg brace in a wheelchair. No, I wasn’t going to change my disability presentation for the sake of any family members. This is me. Alicia cautioned me not to shove BIID in peoples’ faces too much though. I would answer questions about it truthfully, but I would not go on a rant. In particular, I decided to play down my excitement over the possibility of ability reassignment surgery.
The first step was to figure out all the assistive hardware I would need. The left KAFO and wheelchair are no-brainers, but I would also need a crutch. In addition, my recent minor back re-injury meant that a back brace would be a good idea too. TSA screening should be WAY fun!
The Southwest Airlines website has a comforting array of information for travelers with disabilities. There’s even a wheelchair description form where you can state which parts of your wheelchair are or are not removable, and stuff like that. There’s no wheelchair charge, regardless of whether it’s stowed in cabin or cargo.
Day 1What a relief it is to put on a back brace this morning. I’d been resistant to wearing it despite my back getting messed up from hiking last week, because it’s been really hot recently. Today it is in the 60s (F), so no problem. It is such a long time since I last wore it that I’d forgotten what a difference it makes to back pain. The combination of back brace and wheelchair together is super comfortable.
Alicia drops me off at the airport, and I soon make a mess of things. The curb cut is particularly steep, and I lose balance of the suitcase precariously perched on my lap. Both hands grab for the suitcase, while the curb cut propels me back into the street, twirling me at the same time. I must look particularly incompetent, because a guy on crutches comes to help me out. I’m going out of sequence here but, on my return, Alicia mentioned this incident which she had watched. She said I had that smile on my face like she had never seen before I started using a wheelchair. I enjoy everything in a wheelchair, even my own incompetence…
Did I say how excited I am today? Not only is it my first time flying with my wheelchair, but I get to see my dear sister for the first time in three years. I have been in a continuous state of happy excitement since waking up this morning.
Check in goes very smoothly. The "Southwest Airlines Assistive Device Inspection Tag" gets attached to my wheelchair. I get to keep a copy of the tag in case the chair and I get separated. Under "Damage Found" she wrote "Scratches on frame". I like this. I like having a wheelchair which shows the scars of life.
Now for the TSA security screening. Nobody asks if I can get out of the wheelchair, so I don’t volunteer. I must appear pretty confident because the screener says "You’ve done this before, haven’t you?" Well, I have, kinda, but only in an airport wheelchair.
The wheelchair, leg brace and back brace get swabbed for explosives, while the crutch goes through X-ray. The back brace comes back positive for explosives! I immediately start giggling at the idea that I’m wearing an explosive back brace. Since I’m a chemist, I should be able to figure out what’s going on if they tell me exactly what has been detected; so I boldly ask. I’m a little concerned because I’ve heard of cases where such information has been withheld from innocent passengers. This action resulted in a nightmare for the people concerned, when the sharing of the information would have immediately rectified the issue.
They have no hesitation in telling me that glycerine has been detected. I start laughing again. For starters I’m wondering why they are testing for a substance which is completely stable and devoid of any explosive properties. They tell me that it’s found in hand lotion and other such stuff. Yes, I know. I know quite a bit about cosmetic chemistry. I make my own nail polish remover, and use glycerine as an ingredient. They tell me everything is fine and wave me on through.
There’s a bit of a mystery here. Why are they checking for substances that are ingredients of cosmetics, but not ingredients of explosives? And, having found such a substance on me, why do they simply ignore the alarm and wave me through? I suppose I could have asked, but my previous experience with TSA screeners is that they either do not know the answer to such questions, or they pretend not to know. I didn’t feel like stirring the pot. I’m going out of sequence again, but after I got home I put the question to Alicia. Her take on it was that they deliberately test for non-explosive materials so that they can judge the psychological reaction of people being told that they set off the alarm. I suppose my reaction of laughter proclaimed my innocence. Or are they thinking that people would be able to smuggle enough apparatus and other chemicals on board, and set up a chemistry lab to convert glycerine into nitroglycerine? Or do they think people might use it for the well known binary incendiary with potassium permanganate? It’s a mystery.
The gate is some distance from security screening. There are elevators up and down, ramps up and down. I always love speeding down ramps, past the walkies. At the gate I get my special blue boarding pass for preboarding.
I have taken note of Claire’s flying experience, and have said that I can walk down the aisle with a crutch and leg brace. I’m the only one with a wheelchair on this flight, so it gets to be stowed in the cabin. Southwest airplanes have room for one wheelchair to be thusly stowed, the rest going to cargo. I start giving instructions on disassembling my chair, but they say they have room for it as is. This is all much easier than I thought it was going to be.
I’m the first to board, so I choose a window seat near the back, out of everybody’s way. The travel time is less than three hours, so I’m not going to need a toilet. After a while, a ten year old girl asks if she can sit next to me. I take it as a compliment. We chat for a while. People who are feeling vulnerable often want to be with me. Somehow they know that I am safe.
The changes in cabin pressure are nasty for the fibromyalgia pain in my right shoulder. It may sound weird, but it’s typical for fibromyalgia. There’s nothing I can do about it.
At disembarkation, someone hands me my crutch from the overhead bin, and my wheelchair is waiting for me at the airplane door. Yes, it’s that easy! It’s another long haul to baggage claim, but the downhill ramps make it fun. My 22 year old son is there to meet me. He knows all about my BIID and is quite accustomed to the brace and chair. Off home we go to meet up with the rest of the family. The house is not accessible, so the chair stays in the car while I’m there. There is a nice sandwich lunch awaiting me, and we all eat and relax and chat. The story of my explosive back brace in TSA screening gets quite a laugh.
We go out to an event in the afternoon (lots of wheeling) and then back to the house. There we meet some friends (of my sons’ other mother) who I haven’t seen in a decade or so. Here comes the first question about my leg brace. I take a deep breath while deciding what I’m going to say. I’m rescued by my son, who regales them with the story of my skiing accident. After all, he was there and saw everything happen.
We drive to San Francisco for dinner at a popular and excellent restaurant. While waiting in line outside, my sister asks me if I’m doing any wheelchair sports. I say no, that it isn’t likely, and the closest I might come would be sit-skiing. I remind her that I don’t do any kind of exercise with my arms above shoulder level. We talk about my adaptive skiing lesson I had a few months ago.
Apparently the guy in line behind me has been eavesdropping and strikes up a conversation with me about adaptive sports. I’m my usual outgoing self and we have a fun conversation. He asks me how much I can move my legs, and hints that he’d like to see more of them. I grin and start laughing, but I decline to lift up my skirt. Later on my sister commented on this conversation. I think what struck her was that the shy, socially awkward little sister she once used to know has completely vanished…
It is a tight fit to get to the table in the restaurant. A quick glance and I know I have reverse into the spot and then spin 90 degrees. My sister comments on my skill at this. I lap up the praise of my wheeling technique!
After dinner we all decide to go for a walk, a long walk. San Francisco is VERY hilly, some of it so steep that the sidewalk consists of steps. It is pretty challenging for me, despite avoiding steps. Family members offer to push, but they soon get the idea that I have no intention of being pushed anywhere. I am extremely relieved to be wearing the back brace though. I doubt I would be able to wheel up such steep hills without it. Eventually we wind up at a coffee shop, relax, and listen to the street musicians.
Back to the car is all downhill. My sister has seen how fast I ski. Everybody is concerned about my safety going downhill. They want to hang on to my chair lest I lose control. I end the conversation by saying "See you at the bottom", and speed down the steep sidewalk. There is an obstacle course of garbage cans halfway down. It just looks way too fun to take it at anything other than high speed. No problem. I literally screech to a halt at the bottom of the block, and wait for the walkies to catch up. The pattern repeats until we get back to the car…
Day 2In the morning I stretch in bed. OUCH!!! The fibromyalgia in my right shoulder has got nasty. I reached my limit of wheeling up hills. Note to self: DON’T live in San Francisco!
We go to a talk at the university. It’s about what kind of things should or should not be for sale. I’m riveted. The subject hits close to home. Many of us are willing to buy something that some surgeons would offer for sale. Yet society at large says that amputation and paralysis are not treatments that should be for sale. Why? Our lecturer analyses four factors which lead people to believe that something should not be for sale. She uses child slavery as an example which most people agree on. Her main discourse is about the market in human kidneys. This is a complicated issue, and does not elicit universal agreement. She doesn’t mention BIID at all, but it fits well into the discourse. Two of these four factors seem to play a major role in the poor availability of ability reassignment surgery.
Firstly, people are uncomfortable with the idea of a market transaction resulting in extreme harm to an individual. People believe that selling a child into slavery causes them harm. People believe that a market transaction resulting in amputation or paralysis causes harm. What if limb transplants were completely feasible and something literally costs an arm and a leg? Should you be allowed to sell your limbs thusly? The question in my mind is "Who is to make the determination of harm?" In my case I do not view the paralysing of my left leg as causing harm. It takes a leap of imagination for other people to have that perspective.
This brings us to the second factor which is relevant to BIID. People are uncomfortable with the idea of market transactions that affect vulnerable populations. Children are seen as vulnerable. Thus it is not acceptable to buy a child as your slave. Whether we like it or not, we with BIID are also seen as a vulnerable population. We are seen as being insane. The fact that we think we need an amputation or paralysis proves that we must be insane, right? Insane people are, like children, automatically a vulnerable population. Consequently we have to be protected by society from market transactions which cause us harm. It would be morally reprehensible for a surgeon to make money off us poor insane people, right?
After the talk I am hanging out with my sister and my sons’ other mother. I ask them if they are okay with discussing BIID surgery in the light of what we have just heard. I tell them we can stop any time if it makes them uncomfortable. They are fine with it, and quickly recognise the Catch 22 situation. It is in my mind to emphasise that to me paralysis of my left leg would NOT cause me harm, and that I am NOT insane. My sister asks me if I would go on to get my right leg paralysed after I’ve done the left leg. I tell her that I don’t know, but I can’t promise that I won’t. I think this makes me sound like I AM insane, and that I am intent on self harm. Hmm…
The three of us spend the afternoon at a shopping center, talking quite a bit about BIID. It is obvious that I am having a difficult time with all the wheeling on account of the fibromyalgia in my right shoulder. It’s making audible clicks, characteristic of a significant episode. My sister makes the comment that my fibromyalgia related disability must be helpful for my BIID, since I want to be disabled. I explain that it is not really a question of me wanting to be disabled. Fibromyalgia is of no help whatsoever, since my needed impairment is specific. This is a revelation to her. It suddenly sinks in to her that I have no desire at all to be disabled per se. I just need a specific impairment. She says "So you’re not really transabled then." Hmm, I guess we all need to be a bit careful about semantics.
Day 3This is going to be another day with a lot of wheeling. I simply decide that I’m going to have fun, regardless of how painful my right shoulder might be. Large doses of naproxen help quite a lot.
I am addicted to going down hills really fast, and I scare the crap out of my family with the first one today. It’s a smooth surface, so I can quickly get up a lot of speed. However there is a wall at the bottom so I have to do a very tight fast turn just before the wall, screeching behind a pillar. I emerge on the other side, grinning from ear to ear. My 16 year old son tells me he was convinced I was going to crash. A little later I get to do the same hill again, but this time there are people in the way halfway down. In order to create a gap I aim directly at one of them, getting faster and faster. He takes the hint and jumps out of the way. Okay, I know. I’m not a nice person all of the time. My excuse is that I’m infested with demons.
Somewhat later I’m at the top of a bigger steeper hill, with nobody on it. I can’t resist. (On the way up I had let a big strong guy push me because it was too steep for me to manage). I just let it rip, going faster than I’ve ever gone before. Ah, ’tis such fun being a maniac in a wheelchair! The problem is all those people milling around at the bottom of the hill. I have to gauge it just right so that I can brake in time. Not only is this the fastest I’ve been, but it’s also the most intense braking. The rims get very hot surprisingly quickly. DON’T try this without wheeling gloves. Your hands will get totally fried. As it is, I get a very minor burn on the end of my right index finger. Hey, it’s just a matter of physics. All that kinetic energy has to go somewhere. It gets converted into heat.
The day’s events obligate the taking of many family photos. I tell my sister that she can talk about my BIID when explaining the wheelchair to family members back in England. She seems not to have a problem with this responsibility.
After one of the photo sessions, I find I need to take a ramp, placed specially for people like me, from the grass back up to the concrete. Yes, this trip is also providing me with my first experience with wheeling on grass; no problem. Halfway up the ramp, my casters fall down into a gap that has been cleverly disguised with carpeting. Nice job with the booby trap, guys! The abrupt stop sends my purse flying off my lap.
It’s celebratory party time this evening. Circumstances dictate that I am mistress of ceremonies. They also dictate that I am without wheelchair. This leaves me slightly nervous about giving speeches, etc. However, I find that the leg brace is sufficient to keep my anxiety levels down.
Chloe in her wheelchair with her leg brace.
This is a big party. There are people I haven’t seen in over a decade. I’m wearing an above knee sexy dress, so inevitably there are going to be some questions about the leg brace. I’m pleased to find that there are far fewer questions than one might expect. I wonder if my obvious comfort with it simply makes it no big deal to others.
One thing I notice is that the most common assumption about the leg brace is there must be something wrong with my knee. It does happen to be the case that the brace has a significant beneficial effect on the fibromyalgia around my left knee. However, this is a subtle detail that I would only reveal during an in depth discussion. Although there are people here with whom I would have no problem discussing BIID, it seems inappropriate for the occasion. I keep it very simple. "I had a skiing accident". It is sufficient; it is true; and it in no way contradicts anything I might later have to say about BIID.
As I bid farewell to my sons’ grandfather at the end of the party, he says "I hope you’ll soon not be needing the leg brace." I reply "Oh, but I LIKE my leg brace." That’s the closest I came on this trip to expanding the inner circle of family who knows about my BIID.
Tired Chloe goes to bed.
Day 4My sister and I have been getting some great quality time together in the form of bedtime and morning conversations, since we are sharing a room. BIID is a frequent topic, and this morning is no exception.
She has told me about her researching BIID on the internet. It occurs to me that she might have visited transabled.org so I ask her directly. "Yes" she says. I ask her if she has read any of my posts. "Yes" she says. It’s pretty obvious who I am to anybody that knows me. Hmm, I’m glad I never said anything nasty about her! Well, there’s nothing nasty to say about her in any case. Welcome Sis, if you are reading this! And thank you so much for being supportive.
My sister and my sons’ other mother accompany me to the airport. They decide to come inside with me, and at check in they are asked if they’d like to accompany me to the gate. We all think this is a good idea. It hasn’t crossed any of our minds that circumstances would allow this. I look at one of their passes. It says that they are escorting somebody in need of assistance. It’s not really true though; I’m getting a special privilege just because I’m in a wheelchair. Hmm…
Be that as it may, we all think it will be fun for them to see me go through screening with my collection of assistive devices. As a matter of fact I am rather grateful for the presence of people who care about me. The assistance I need is emotional. This is the very same airport in which I had my traumatic screening experience, on the first trip after my back injury. In retrospect it was probably a bit early to try such a thing. I think it was around two months after the injury. I was still in a great deal of pain, and walking consisted of a slow shuffle. I was made to take off my back brace to get through screening here; the very same back brace I am wearing right now. The difference is that I would never allow TSA screeners to get away with such behaviour now. In retrospect I wonder if carrying the luggage through screening without a back brace did further damage to my back. It sure felt like it. Not that I’m complaining…
The TSA screener notes the back brace during the pat down, and asks me what it is for. She asks if I’d broken my back. I don’t think they are supposed to ask questions specific to your medical conditions. In any case I reply truthfully that it’s for back pain. This time only the leg brace and crutch are swabbed for explosives. Nothing goes through X-ray. I’m gradually overcoming the screening phobia that started with the infliction of such pain.
I’m wondering why the back brace was only checked with a pat down this time. Perhaps she thought it was inaccessible because I was wearing a dress. I am wearing a dress that unbuttons all the way down the front, specifically to allow easy access for the screeners. I have a selection of such dresses because they allow me to get dressed much more easily by myself during a fibromyalgia episode. Perhaps she thought they were faux buttons, and didn’t want to give me a hard time. I dress to allow easy access, on account of my friend’s nasty TSA experience where she was made to drop her pants to allow access to her leg braces.
I’m first to board the airplane again. I use the crutch and leg brace to walk down the aisle again. My wheelchair is stowed in the cabin again. Why did I think this was going to be so difficult? Perhaps the barriers exist mostly in our minds.
Back in Salt Lake City I wait for the other passengers to disembark first, so that my slowness doesn’t hinder them. I’m reminded of the kid with a leg brace I used to know. Apparently it is possible to run with a KAFO, even up and down stairs. I don’t have a clue how this is done. I haven’t dared to try yet. The flight attendant is calling that my wheelchair is ready. I wave back and point at the overhead bin. My crutch is way out of reach at the back. My arms are too short. Okay, so I do need assistance.
At baggage claim I deftly whip my suitcase from the carousel onto my lap, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulder. I don’t want to give anybody an excuse to offer help. I want to figure out ways of doing everything for myself.
Alicia is waiting for me in the car. I am glad to see her. I did it. I was flying high indeed.
Thank you Claire, and so many others of you, for inspiring me to live a fuller life than I thought I was capable of.
Tags: Assistance, Back Brace, BIID, Claire, Crutch, Disabled, Flying, Goats, Insane, KAFO, Leg Brace, Pain, Presentation, Sister, Surgery, Transabled, Wheelchair
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11 Comments
Such a neat story, Chloe.
Flying in a wheelchair is easier if you don’t have to get the isle wheelchair.
How do you manage to carry a crutch when you wheel?
I switched to a little pursy backpack that I hang on the back, I hate carrying a purse on my lap plus I like my lap empty for when I go shopping.
Did your casters go all crazy when you went downhill? I don’t like when they start wiggling because if I hit a stone at that speed, it could be nasty.
I bought a nice speedometer for bicycles in Walmart and mounted it on my chair. It is a lot of fun to see how fast I can go (so far max of 18 mph). I highly recommend it.
Are you enjoying the cooler weather we are having for a few days? No A/C where we live and it’s been mainly high 80′ and low 90′ the whole June. And the elevation is 6000 ft.
Sean is away for a few days to recuperate a little bit.
Hi Elisabeth,
Yeah, I followed Claire’s suggestion of using brace(s)/crutch(es) to get down the aisle. It definitely makes things easier if one is able to do that.
One of the accessories I ordered with my wheelchair is a retractable crutch holder. It’s to the rear on the right. You flip down a little cup, and lower the crutch upright between the seat back and the bar. The bottom of the crutch rests in the cup, and it’s held in place with an elastic strap. With a little practice —-(Urgh, I was freaking out for a few minutes there. I keep forgetting that when I’m wearing a left wrist brace the computer does all sorts of random things because I’m not realising I’m depressing a key)—- it’s not that difficult to put the crutch in or take it out while sitting in the chair.
I honestly don’t know if my casters went crazy. I was extremely focused on not crashing into anything or anybody.
What a fabulous idea to put a speedometer on your chair! I never thought of that. I am extremely tempted. On the other hand, knowing me, I would be constantly trying to break my own speed record. It could all end in a nasty accident with me becoming paraplegic or something. Hmm…
Yes, you and I have pretty similar weather. It was hot enough on Thursday that when I’d climbed the peak at 10,500 ft I was still plenty warm enough with just a camisole on top. It cooled twenty degrees between Friday and Saturday; still very nice with no A/C.
Hi Ellen,
All of the Southwest employees with whom I had any interaction were kind, considerate and in good humor, without any trace of condescension. They always asked what I wanted to do, without making any assumptions about what I could or couldn’t do. I was impressed.
It was comforting for me see on their website that they have provision for stowing a wheelchair in the cabin. I’m not sure if other airlines do this. It did make a difference to my wheelchair separation anxiety, knowing that it was close by. It’s actually a big deal to me. I have frequent wheelchair separation anxiety dreams. If I’m going somewhere in the car I almost always bring the wheelchair along, even if I’m sure I’m not going to be using it (like for hiking).
5 On 8 July, 2010, Sean said:
I’m glad your trip went so well. While I don’t think there’s grounds to be nervous about flying as a para, I do think you’ve been lucky :)
While it is *easier* to walk into the cabin and not use the aisle chair, you’re cheating yourself of a major part of the experience.
Have you read Flight Pattern? A fictionalised account of many flights I’ve had, all cobbled into one.
As for racing downhill like a hoon, it’s a lot of fun. I’ve done that a lot, and still do. But… You have to think it’s not just your hands that can suffer. Imagine a wee pebble lodging itself under your front caster, and the resulting flight you could have. Flying is fun, but landing… Not recommended :) Or… What happens if you are NOT able to stop at the bottom of the hill? :)
6 On 8 July, 2010, Sophie said:
Your too much of a hooligan to be the party pooper Sean
@Sean: Dear party pooper, I think you understand me well enough by now to know that the risk of bodily injury isn’t going to stop me from racing down hills. Besides, you know damn well that if we ever actually meet we’re going to have a downhill race. So I need to put in some practice.
It’s quite likely that I will try the aisle chair at some point in the future. I was explicitly asked if I would like to use it. One of my reasons for declining on this occasion is that I like to savour the whole BIID journey without missing possible steps. Although I had previously been through TSA screening with leg braces, I’d never actually flown with one. I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity of walking down the aisle with crutch and KAFO.
Yes, I read Flight Pattern. I greedily lap up the experiences of others to increase my own confidence.
@Sophie: I wanted to credit you with being an inspiration for a particular aspect of this post. It is the first time I’ve shown my face here. Sophie, it has warmed my heart to see so many wheelchair pics with your beautiful smiling face on your website. If Sophie can do it, I can do it.
I want this to be the face of BIID. Visitors to this website should be able to see that we are nice smiling friendly people. We have friends and family and relationships. We are not a bunch of weirdo creeps hiding in our basements. We are gentle folk trying to get through life as best we can.
9 On 11 July, 2010, Sophie said:
I’m glad I’m of some help Chloe :) You look genuinely happy in that picture. It’s good for us to hear of each others’ good moments as well as the bad.
I just found a TSA quote about the swabs they take: “the machines test only for explosives.” I wonder why they feel compelled to lie to the public about this. Glycerine is not an explosive. I wonder what else they lie about.
One is told that fireworks are not allowed in your checked baggage because they may cause a fire. This is not correct information.
Fireworks are designed specifically so that they do not just catch fire spontaneously. In order to be used commercially in the USA they are required to pass a thermal stability test. In 1990 I was a consultant to a fireworks factory in Mexico which wanted to export products to the USA. Among other duties I was the person responsible for overseeing the thermal stability tests and certifying the results.
I have authored journal articles regarding the theoretical bases of autoignition in fireworks. I have given firework safety seminars for those who manufacture or display fireworks. One of my favorite demonstrations is to plunge a burning match into a pile of Black Powder (gunpowder) thereby snuffing out the flame, showing that gunpowder can be used as a fire extinguisher. Er, don’t try this one at home folks; it’s takes practice and you have to know what you’re doing.
If you gradually heat up some paper and some gunpowder in an oven, it is the paper which catches fire first. A cardboard box is more likely to start a fire than a firework. The real reason for not allowing fireworks on board an airplane is that once a fire has been caused by something else, such as aforementioned cardboard box, the presence of fireworks will greatly exacerbate the situation.
A few years ago I offered my services to the relevant aviation authorities, for free, to help change the language regarding fireworks and some other prohibited items such that it is technically accurate, rather than misleading to passengers. They weren’t interested. I’m not qualified to guess whether the reason for this is that they deliberately wish to misinform passengers in order to create an atmosphere of fear, or whether they simply don’t care about their own incompetence.
Either way, my experience shows that the aviation authorities are not only lying to the public, but are also aware that they are so doing.
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1 On 6 July, 2010, Ellen_BIID said:
Thank you for this telling of your flight adventure.
I’m still so very very … uncertain(?) … no, afraid … about flying with my wheelchair.
I do know that Southwest has the BEST reputation when it comes to assisting passengers with disabilities, but still I very much dis-like the chance that I will be separated from the one thing that allows me to get around, my wheelchair, and then have it mis-treated and/or damaged or lost leaving me completely stranded with no way to get around anymore. There are too many horror stories out there about that type of thing happening.
Any tales of others who have good flight experiences help assuage that fear.