Is there a certain insanity
in going to Europe when you can no longer walk? When your body requires two
half-hour naps daily? When you can no longer write or type? Of course there is!
There is also a certain insouciance and joie
de vivre. I thumb my nose at the nasty people who insist that I’m a cripple
and now must do nothing but sit in a wheelchair until I die.
Travel for me requires
accepting and operating under a completely different mindset. At home I have
the power chair Sven. Sven gives me lots of the autonomy. I transfer in and out
of him, make my own decisions about where I will go and when and buzz around
the house and even the city. Travelling, I must adapt to amazing passivity. Losing
agency and any pretense of autonomy, I sit in a manual chair awaiting kindness’
push. I get a lot of enforced rest. Anything I want I must request, reduced to
waiting upon the whims of others. Sitting passively for a nine-and-a-half hour
flight gives one good practice in patience. But my co-travelers regain control
of their bodies when we land; I do not.
Who must agree to my mad
travel schemes? Only the Bear, my delightful companion and love of my life. I
would never want to journey anywhere without him and he has kindly agreed to
push Bird, the manual wheelchair that
we’ve named for her many flights overseas and that she permits me to still soar.
Despite living in a manual chair, at any moment, I must flawlessly execute sit-to-stand.
Sit-to-stand is a very difficult move at the best of times, made more difficult
when your brain discredits the sturdiness of your hips. Physically, I must be
able to walk ten feet between the bed and the bathroom. I rely heavily on the
aid of Tinky the Walker. We take Bird and Tinky with us on all of our
adventures. Both bear numerous scars courtesy of the airlines. Sven, my power
chair, justifiably fears flying and stays home. Pearl, as a minivan, weighs far
too much for airline transport. She remains in her garage and talks to Gimmy
the Camry. She tries to put Gimmy up to mischief, but fails.
Enough woolgathering! Back to
our Denver departure. Late afternoon, we take a cab to the airport, then go
through the security hassle. At DIA, hordes of TSA employees carefully
investigate every bit of Bird and me. After wasting a good bit of everyone’s time,
they wave us through and we proceed out to Lufthansa’s boarding area.
Walking no longer an option for
me, I’m forced to rely upon aisle chairs. As such, I’m the first to board. Bear
follows in my wake. For the blissfully uninitiated, using an aisle chair
involves two strong people (airline employees) who approach with the chair then
strap you securely into it. They roll the
appropriately named chair along the aisles of the airplane. Once at your
assigned seat, they lift and deposit you in your place. Once the aisle chair
deposits you in your airline seat, you’re expected to stay there. How do I go
ten hours without using the bathroom? I wear an adult diaper, of course.
By the time they finish
strapping anyone in, they could just as easily transport a corpse on the chair.
Keith wants to buy me a gag, so that I would also be silent while tied up. We
all have our fantasies, but his will come to naught.
But why have aisle chairs at
all? Airlines, of course, function primarily as cargo carriers. You may be
human cargo, but are cargo nonetheless. The airline will deliver you to
anywhere you contract. You entered into a contract when you purchased a ticket.
Read the stuff with the ticket carefully and you’ll see a contract.
For years I thought that the
airline was called Lufttanza or “Air Dance.” What a cool name, eh? I speak with
a very German stewardess who corrects me. “No, we are Lufthansa.” Or “Air
Company.” Boring! “But we have a stylized crane (bird) in our logo. Don’t you
like the crane!?” the stewardess continues somewhat fiercely. Not desiring to
be thrown off the plane, I hastily agree but silently remain disappointed.
Once deposited in my seat by
the airline employees, Bear and I watch our co-travelers find their seats and settle
in. I’ve never seen so many people on an airplane. We’ve paid for bigger seats
or at least seats with more legroom room than given to the average bear. The
seats give us an empty three feet in front of us. We have the sole unoccupied
seat on the plane next to us, since apparently no one wanted to chunk out the
extra $100 for the seat. But I tell you, we have more room than Economy Plus
and we find it well worth the moolah.
The plane departs promptly at
5:30PM. I think all flights to Europe fly overnight. The flight crew keeps
giving us more drinks. Every time a wine glass empties they refill it. I ask
one of the attendants if they’re trying to keep us sedated. “Is this a plot?” I
ask. “Yes,” she admits. I laugh. “No,” she then avers, “I mean no, no, no.”
Lufthansa also has individual
computer screens at each seat. You can choose from a very wide range of movies,
TV shows, music, spoken word etc. to entertain yourself. My screen is broken.
But I hate TV anyway so it’s okay.
Duly sedated by both alcohol
and Ambien, I sleep through much of the flight. Thank God for Ambien.
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