Pity the Poor Cabbie

I'm back!  Came home from six weeks in the Seattle area visiting my daughter and family.  My next few posts will be about all that, but I probably won't post things in the order in which they happened.

So let's start with my trip home.  The end before the beginning.

In order to travel, I have to have wheelchair support.  Airports are big and my back/legs/lungs don't allow for that.  Thankfully, airlines provide wonderful services without cost to provide for that.  Each airport is different, of course, and each "wheelchair pusher" is different as well.

On December 27th, my daughter and son-in-law delivered me to Sea-Tac Airport in Seattle for the haul home.  The trip to the airport was without incident.  There was curbside check-in, and the wheelchair showed up while I was still on the curb, even before my family could pull out to leave.  Nice!  I was taken to a holding site for handicapped for a few minutes, but then a "pusher" showed up to take me to the gate.  This was an older man--50s probably--a very kind Indian with an accent.

This man was the quintessential model of someone who knew the ropes but cared.
He cut right into the line at security.  No one gave him a problem about that.  He told me what to do, etc., and when we got past the metal detectors and x-ray machines, he told me to check things to make sure everything was untouched.  Check for ID.  Check for wallet.  Check for phone.  Check!  He was the first handicapped assistant I've ever had that was willing to wait while I rifled through things to make sure I had everything.  And I did.

On our way to the gate, Mr. Nice Indian Man bent over from behind to ask me if I needed to use the restroom.  He was quite discreet about that, which I really appreciated.  I did ask him if we could stop at a kiosk for a bite to eat.  No problem.  It was morning, so I purchased a cup of cut fruit, and we continued to the gate--two elevators and a tram--where he and I parted company.  What a nice helper!  I tipped him well.

As a handicapped passenger, I would be boarded first, but I also had to be at the gate earlier than most.  Interestingly, my flight is the ONLY non-stop flight to Indianapolis on any given day.  The waiting area is tiny.  Four chairs.  As I sat, I noticed a sign painted on a pillar about boarding outside, due to construction.  In short, I would be wheeled down to ground level, then would be expected to walk up tarmac stairs to the airplane.  (Not sure how people incapable of doing stairs would be boarded, but they manage, I guess.)

The actual flight was easy.  We left the airport late because we were 23rd in line to take off, but actually arrived in Indy 30 minutes before scheduled due to a tailwind.  No turbulence or any other reason to be concerned.  (Seattle to Indy in 3 hours and 21 minutes for a flight that was scheduled to take about four-and-a-half hours.  I'll take it!)

Touchdown in Indy occurred at about 4:00 PM.  Still light out.  It took forever to get off the plane because I was so far back, but everything was orderly.  There was a wheelchair waiting for me.  Unfortunately, only three out of five "pushers" for Alaska Airlines were on the job that night.  A quick stop at a restroom, attention from managers, etc., kept me from being abandoned.  It all went smoothly.

When we got to the baggage claim area, my bags were just about the last ones on the carousel!  The little gal that was pushing me was new on the job and being supervised by a manager.  When I told her I would need a cab, she had no idea what to do.  (I could have told her, but the manager did before I could.)  It took two wheelchairs to get me to the curb--one to hold my two checked bags, and one to hold me, my carry-on bag, and my personal bag.

I had decided long in advance to take a cab home.  The fare from the airport to my home is just a tad over $20.  Well worth it not to inconvenience friends who are ready and willing to sit in the cell phone lot to wait for me.  When one is dealing with flights--especially in winter--one never knows about delays or cancellations.  I felt better just knowing that I wasn't causing inconvenience to others for my travel choices.

The cab showed up at the curb soon after summoned.  (There was traffic, so he had to maneuver, shamelessly, to be there for me.)  Thankfully, the vehicle was warm!  After I directed him to where we were going to go, we chit-chatted some.  He had an accent.  I asked where he was from.  Morocco.  I jokingly asked, "Morocco, Indiana?"  He got a chuckle out of that.  And then I heard about HIS story.  Apparently, although he had been at the airport all day, I was his first fare of the day.  (It was probably 5:45 PM.)  He has to pay $40 a day for car rental...blah, blah...and yesterday he only had one fare, also...so he isn't able to meet his expenses...blah, blah.  We pulled into my drive; he pulled my bags just into the house.  The fare was $21.  I gave him $35.  He was happy, and I was home!!  I feel bad for people who have to work (and wait) so hard to make a living.  I just can't help everyone.  I try!

Thus endeth today's epistle according to St. Margaret.  I have so many things to say about my trip.  Stay tuned!