I love flying. I still get a thrill when I see the land fall away under me and the miracle happens of you being in the clouds, with mountains going by your window, or famous cities laid out like google maps under you.
Pity I hate airports.
Quite apart from the evils of air miles, pollution and the enormous amounts of fossil fuel it takes to get airborne there’s lots more to hate!
I’ve always loathed that absurd rigmarole of checking your stuff for something you shouldn’t be carrying, taking off shoes and belts, liquids in plastic bags, metal detectors and being made to feel like an international criminal because you left your nail file in your sponge bag…..
As a disabled person some of that burden is supposed to be taken from you – you get wheeled around by a nice carer who shows your passport, sorts out your bags etc. It worked fine four years ago when I last travelled by air.
Last month, fed up with winter, I was tempted to try again to get to Tenerife where it’s always summer weather and they boast of disability friendly resorts and luxury hotels.
Four years ago we got a taxi to Gatwick disabled help office, a wheelchair and a helpful chair pusher was provided and everything dealt with. Stress free!
This time, I’m more disabled and therefore more vulnerable and more nervous about travelling. It took a lot of persuading myself to even try to fly.
In the disabled help office, we waited half an hour for a cheerful pusher who said he was there to look after me. What he didn’t say was he wasn’t there to see my poor partner was ok as well. He raced me away while Norman was left carrying our stuff and putting it in trays while trying to hold up his trousers and shuffle along in his socks.
A wheelchair takes you to the aircraft and you get on first with the parents and small children. Easy.
What’s not so easy is getting to the loo on a plane. The staff try to put your sticks in an overhead locker and promise to come back when you need them. My advice is don’t let them! They’ll be much too busy selling expensive perfume and overpriced sandwiches to give you your sticks when you need them. Cry if you need to. I did.
Arriving in Tenerife, a conscientious wheelchair pusher arrived and stayed with us until our transfer car turned up.
Three weeks later and we have to go home.
A very different story. There were around seven people needing help, all with a companion. Panic at the disability help desk. Not enough wheelchairs or helpers. I had the grumpiest man I’ve ever met in the Canaries – the people are universally lovely mostly.
He did the racing through the airport trick again but parked us in an obscure spot as the gate hadn’t been announced and the aircraft was delayed. My Spanish wasn’t up to the complicated grammar of: “Where do you think we should be if the gate is announced and will you come back?”
So, the wheelies clumped together and worried about what would happen. When the gate was announced, a troupe of teenage wheel pushers turned up and parked six of us next to the entrance. And vanished.
We were supposed to board first. But the pushers were off pushing others so the EasyJet rep announced Speedy boarders could board. So people who’d paid extra to get on first had to climb over a load of wheel chairs and babies….
Then they said families next – folding pushchairs and squeezing past the wheelchairs with a baby and hand luggage. I felt like screaming, like the twins next to me were as their dad tried to get past with one under each arm…..
But then the pushers turned up and raced the pushchairs so they could get the stickies on when they were supposed to get on – first. Chaos.
As we waited in the corridor to the plane, we realised that one poor old soul was still trying to get off! They must have cleaned round him on the plane and then realised he was supposed to be arriving.
I was sitting in a wheelchair he probably should have been in.
“Wait there!” He was told. “Where are you going?” But by then he’d forgotten and didn’t seem to care. I know how he felt.
There is a worrying point here. There seem to be more disabled people trying to travel – tempted by sunny resorts with wheel friendly seafronts and promises of accessible hotels. But I don’t think the airports are increasing the resources to deal with this. So, chances of things going wrong are multiplying with every trip.
Don’t let me put you off travelling, just be warned – travelling for disabled people is complicated, and not always up to what’s promised. Be prepared to make a fuss! We should be able to do what everyone else can do and if we can’t, it’s not our fault.
Christine is a founder member of disability campaign group Access Thanet
