Two wings of freedom~ resolve and relaxation

So, this is something that happened in Chicago's O'Hare Airport on my return trip from visiting my parents.

There are travel guides that will warn about the size and dizzying delays of traveling through one of the world’s busiest airports…

But I had my strategy!

As my connecting flight taxied to the terminal, I grabbed the dogged ears of the in flight magazine and flipped to the diagrams in the back. I strained on the edge of my seat with my seat back in the upright to hear the flight attendant’s kitten soft voice squeak out the new departure gates.

“we are arriving at F Concourse F as in Frank…Kansas City you’re leaving out of gate C as in Charley 24...”

I checked my Terminals map…she had not made the correct call for my game of airport BINGO! I needed another F gate! Not one all the way over here in C China!

I calculated my speed and distance. I couldn’t reasonably think to get to there or make my connection if I pushed it in my chair.

I will take the shuttle! I’ve shuttled in Dallas and Atlanta. Other than the two-second sprint it takes to get on before the doors close this service isn’t bad.

The shuttle gate appeared a simple easy push on the map...

For visuals, let me just share with you, I have a strategy when I push my wheelchair too. Backpack on my lap and cane secured through a tight loop with rubber-tip stopper end sitting on the footrest. If the cane should start to fall, then I grab it with my knees!

For someone this resourceful let me just say.

United Airlines is of no help. A business run by monkeys they have no strategy.

I soon found myself staring out a window down at a shuttle bus.



A large directional sign with arrow pointing downward said TO SHUTTLE

This a mere suggestion. A creative use of signage…a thinkers thought vacation if you will. I suppose this marked a place for a people gathering to imagine stairs or manifest an elevator to take people TO the SHUTTLE.

No stairs
No down escalator
No elevator

There were not even unlatched windows so I could jump there. Don’t ask me how I’d do it in my chair…that parts not in my strategy.

There was no service to get a person in a wheelchair down to the shuttle.

(Who do these people think most need to use this service?)

Anyway

Monkeys, monkeys I tell you running this business.

So…I started grabbing anyone in a suit with a walkie-talkie. With today’s business travel and cell phone use, not as easy as it sounds to distinguish help. Eventually I found someone nearby with the right badge-a tired looking African American woman. Sleepy-eyed she kept shaking her head no to my questions or mild complaints…

“So there’s no way if you’re in a chair to take the shuttle?” I had a strategy darnit!

“What if I like crawl down the stairs and you come carrying the chair on your back after me?”

“What if I roll down the stairs, protecting my head and neck of course with my hands, and you push the chair down after me tied to a sled…”

No she wasn’t having it. Any of it…she had shaken her head in pity and wandered off to get some help.

Next a kindly stranger stepped in. a lively, snappy looking woman traveling with her mom. We had been on the previous flight together. She was fresh off having to watch her mother, an older woman with mobility issues, white knuckle repel down giant steps to get from the fuselage door to solid ground.

She was just as confused about the pseudo-service and hovered like a gentle bull-dog at my side. “I’m not leaving you until they get it right.”

The two of us managed to collar a man with a green badge and chunky antenna walkie-talkie.

As is the case in most of these situations, he called someone and promised assistance in 5 minutes. That person never came and he grabbed the next gangly looking teenager with an airport issued vest.

This young man grabbed his pager, scrolled through his assignments and looked panicked. He quickly tagged the next guy with an empty people mover chair moving swiftly by who tagged a third guy we will call Juan.

Juan now had the assignment of transporting me to my destination. Gate C24!!! I had a strategy!

“Can you get me down there I pointed to the shuttle?”

No. No. He shook his head.

“Then I need a push to gate C24.”

His eyes grew distant. He chuck-chucked and gave a far off look. “That’s a loooong way away.”

Okay so you want me to stay here? Am I supposed to pitch a tent?

Yes, I know that and if we don’t get a move on it I may be the first person in the history of Chicago’s O’Hare National Airport not to make it the full length of the airport in two hours.

Let’s go! I started to assist him with my push.

“Wait. Wait.” He said and disappeared…

Understandably he did not like my chair. I do not have sissy bars. Little handles that pop out top in the back for anyone to hold on or push.

I haven’t solved this problem yet so my only solution is to assure my escort that it is okay to push me holding atop my chair or at my shoulders.

They always state “I don’t want to hurt you” but once they get past the looks I know the reason, human touch with a stranger is awkward…

I really wish we could all get past that. Lend a sister a helping hand.

With doubtful looks, Juan returned.

Juan had disappeared because he too had had a plan. He’d called for a cart. I frowned and shook my head. No way, I’ve never needed a cart. That’s is too much assistance. Let’s go!

…and we were off again!

Sometimes just when you don’t want it to help arrives.

Juan and I intercepted his co-worker and buddy out joy-riding in the luxury-sedan of all people mover carts. His was white, with backing beep, cushion seats. It had that smooth humming cruise and silent click click of breaks and was just speedy enough to blow a little wind through your hair.

Juan determined that I couldn’t stand or transfer myself onto a seat. This cart he cluck clucked wouldn’t work. I did not argue because the rest was true. We could not fold up my wheelchair. It’s a sturdy sport frame that would not accommodate a luxury ride. For this deluxe transport, I would need to fold the wheelchair up like a bike and stick it on the carry rack.

And then…Juan found another nearby transport.



Big gray monster. Hard to described it but it best looks like a small Zamboni machine. The driver stands behind at a steering wheel with the passenger perched in wheelchair atop a four walled-flat bed platform. Juan pulled around laid down a small metal ramp with tire grip grid so I could board. The best I can describe it felt like ascending a parade float that beeps.

What does the world look like from inside the electric people mover cart? I realized as a person I am completely invisible now. No one sees me…here I am just an unfortunate obstacle or pitied person. When I looked out it wasn’t pretty.

So many seemingly insular people…yelling at each other through cell phones, wandering aimlessly or striding purposefully to our next complaint…the departure screens are too faint, this refundable ticket makes no sense, for some reason my carry on needs to be a GIANT bag of popcorn...

Juan turned at a service elevator--the slow moving kind with creaking steel cables and flickering lights. Nervously I entered--by the time we had descended one floor I had him in my strategy…a swift kick to the groin and a punch to the neck I think I could take him!



Stepping off the elevator we had traveled back in time?

Like a heard of cows wandering across the dirt road people did not heed our beeps. Come on people moooove it! Sooo slooow. I have a strategy! And you’re blocking it.

Juan drove steady and patient at the helm while i sat leaning forward (his Rose looking bold and lusty on the Titanic) leaning into the great sea.

With admirable skill and steady patience, Juan did not hit anyone. With a few polite toots and a backing beep he pulled up alongside C24, the well-peopled Kansas City gate and again lowered the little ramp.

I was not excited to become visible again but dutifully agreed to an escort down from my perch. Juan grabbed my backside. I clung to my cane and worldly possessions (my backpack). Juan tugged and we got stuck precariously on a ledge. One wheel spun awkwardly in place and I teetered a bit. I like to think I heard the crowd gasp in shock and ready for helpful participation but I “oops, careful! And whoopsied” out into a scene that included an elderly woman lying across two chairs using a newspaper as a blanket and a mother trying to entertain a young child.

I recognized this mother from our previous flight. She was traveling with her mother and two small VERY active children and had somehow managed to arrive at the next gate first!?…she had two screaming wandering children and I had a strategy!

Slowly Juan worked me down off the ledge. I thanked him and must admit gritted my teeth a little as I handed him the tip…I had a strategy! You all just defeated it.

As you read this I’m sure it is clear. I made it home. The take home in my story? I'm working on it but I think it goes like this...it's really not about getting there first. We might have a plan or strategy! but it’s really learning to relax wherever we go and enjoy the ride.