Swallow Your Pride; Accept the Free Ride!

Airport wheelchairs can save us time, stress, and pain

In her recent Middle-Pause post, Jazzing Up Intentions for the New Year, Sharon Johnson shared her holiday travel challenges, including changing planes with limited mobility. She wrote:

“I use walking sticks for knee pain. They both get me counted as disabled in long lines and get in the way of hikes across the miles of floor, towing my suitcase on wheels. Am I disabled enough for a wheelchair? My pride says no, my knee says yes, so I defer to pride. Next time, I’ll listen to the knees.”

My jaw dropped at how pride got in the way of accepting help. Help she genuinely could have used. I’m sure she’s not alone. And in fact, I’ve been there myself.

I flew to Ohio last year with a plane change in Las Vegas.

Oh, goody, I thought. Terminal C is horseshoe-shaped. There’s a shortcut across the middle where the restrooms are, making it easy to get from gate to gate.

Except my plane didn’t go to Terminal C.

It went to Terminal B. The two were connected by a walkway. So I grabbed my carry-on and headed for ‘C.’ And walked, and walked and walked.

Every twenty feet or so, I had to stop and catch my breath, or I’d get lightheaded. Passengers coming towards me smiled, and a few even said, “Keep going. It’s not too much farther.“ Half a mile later, I got there just in time to board my connecting flight.

Never again, I told myself. Never again.

That’s when I swallowed my pride and clicked the box that said, I can walk, but I need assistance changing planes. They have a variety of boxes offering a variety of services.

If I needed ‘wall-to-wall’ assistance, it was available.

If I check the box when I purchase my ticket or confirm my flight, I’ll be offered a chair right when I check in. Even out on the curb with the Skycaps.

The service is free, though tipping is very much appreciated. And the drivers — sounds so much better than pushers — are usually quite friendly. That means if I need to stop at a restroom, they’ll wait for me and hold any carry-on luggage I’m hauling, too.

Guilt is optional.

At first, I worried that my use of a wheelchair and driver would deprive someone else of the service. I imagined someone severely paralyzed and in excruciating pain missing their flight while I, who can walk fine, albeit very slowly, with frequent breath-catching stops, go whizzing by with time to spare.

But the more I looked, the more I saw available chairs everywhere. Including on almost every jetway I walked down. Yes, we may have to wait for a driver. But the speed of the wheels more than makes up for that wait.

This past Thanksgiving, I changed planes in Vegas on my way home from Ohio. Again I had to shlep from Terminal B to Terminal C on that intermible walkway. Only I rolled!

Since I only had fifty minutes between flights, that chair and driver were Godsends.

How much should we tip?

There’s no required amount. But I would say the longer the ride, the higher the tip. It helps to carry some cash for just this purpose. I gave my driver twenty dollars for the long haul in Vegas.

In Columbus and at home in Oakland, when I had a ride from the gate to the baggage claim, about half the distance, I gave my drivers ten. All of them lit up with gratitude.

On Thanksgiving Day, I thanked all of my public helpers, from skycaps to ticket agents to flight attendants and pilots, for working on a holiday. Sure, they might be getting overtime. Or even double time and a half if they were extra-blessed, but they were away from friends and family while serving me.

Why is it hard for some of us to accept help?

Is it that we don’t want to appear disabled, especially out in public? Does needing help bring up shame for us? Does this affect our self-esteem?

Apparently so. According to the recovery center, 7 Summit Pathways:

“If you’re the kind of person who works hard to appear strong and independent, accepting help could make you feel vulnerable and conflict with your sense of self. You may think that accepting help would make you weak or indicate a failure on your part. In reality, though, giving and receiving help is part of the human social experience and doesn’t reflect on your strength or weakness.

You may also struggle to accept help if you feel like you don’t deserve it. If you struggle with low self-esteem, you might feel guilty for accepting help or worry about imposing on others. This can cause you to bottle up your feelings and endure problems on your own, rather than ask for the help you need.”

The way I see it, the older we get, the more likely we will need help. It might be with getting around. It might be with finances. It might be with some of our daily activities.

This is not a bad thing, hard as it might be to accept. When my mom ‘graduated’ from a cane to a walker, her mobility and endurance took a big leap forward. She could go farther and faster with it, and now I had to hustle to keep up with her.

When we traveled to England for my niece’s wedding, my mom rode in a wheelchair, with us following her and her driver. When we got to customs, we got to go to the head of a long line. I felt bad for folks who had to wait. But I wasn’t about to let Mama out of my sight.

And no, you don’t have to use a wheelchair.

But don’t forget they are available, with drivers who get paid to get you to your gate quickly. So next time you fly the friendly skies, don’t discount the friendly helpers on the ground.

Marilyn Flower’s a sacred fool who writes every day — fiction, poetry, and blogs — inspired by a process called SoulCollage®. She’s the author of Creative Blogging and Bucket Listers: Get Your Brave On. Follow her Sacred Foolishness or SoulCollage® for Writers, and Stay in touch!