I spent two years in a wheelchair a while ago, and I highly recommend it.

Getting a chance to view the world from other people’s belt level is a sobering experience. I knew it was temporary—though a lot less temporary than I’d anticipated—so to proclaim solidarity with the handicapped would be to diminish their experience. But as a traveler, let me tell you: Trying to travel in a wheelchair is like being nibbled to death by ducks.

“Standup” people, as I call them, really aren’t such stand-up guys. I’ve been raced to the cash register by people who can walk, but that’s probably just how they behave with everybody. I’ve been amazed by people who don’t hold the door open, and not surprised by those who didn’t notice I was having trouble negotiating a curb. Putting the best possible spin on it, some people are so busy bending over backwards being politically correct and “ignoring” a handicap that they forget simple human kindness.

So let me talk to you about airports. I got out of my chair when the broken bones in both my feet healed, but I still can’t walk really long distances, which means I still use a chair at airports. At some airports, I feel like royalty—you get your own chair-pusher, whiz through the security lines in your own lane, and get priority boarding. (I do always feel a little funny about popping out of the chair to walk to a newsstand near the gate, however, afraid that my fellow passengers will think I’m a fraud.)

At other airports, however—especially those in Florida, where I live now—there are so many people, including the elderly, needing wheelchairs to navigate the distances that we wind up as part of the elephant parade. You know at the circus, where the elephants link trunk to tail to meander around the ring? That’s what it’s like when one porter is pushing three chairs, or two porters are pushing five between them. It’s not just an indignity, but it’s also mighty slow going.

And then there’s the situation when the gate is a long distance from the nearest food kiosk, the flight is delayed, and I’m hungry or thirsty. Can’t leave the carryon behind, or the security hordes will descend, so that’s on my lap. Need two hands to run the wheels to get me to the food. Takeout counter is at eye level. Beverages are served in cups with plastic lids, or there’s no Styrofoam container with a lid for the burger. Don’t feel like wheeling another half-mile to a kiosk that has bottled beverages and packaged sandwiches. Now lap has to balance food and drink, plus carryon, without a hand to help keep them aright because those are on the wheels. Standup people milling all around while I look wistfully upward at the  ketchup pump.

So here’s the lecture. When you’re at an airport, keep an eye out for those folks in wheelchairs and think about what you can do to help. If you get rebuffed because they’re the rare person who gets offended, so what. If a porter is pushing multiple chairs, offer to push one. If you’re going to grab a snack, offer to grab an extra. If you’re having a conversation, remember that they’re going to get tired of looking at your belt.

Or at least wear an interesting belt buckle. Gives us something to look at.

-Mary Hunt, Editor, eFlyer