the same boat

To find a silver lining or just lighten the weight of things, we joke a lot about the "perks" of my situation (the parking, getting through to the front of security lines faster, early boarding, etc). The reality is they aren't perks and I'd give most anything to go back to my normal, perk-less life.

After a busy trip, where I pushed too hard and moved too much, I was spent by the time we got to the airport yesterday to come home (but, dang, did I have fun). Our trip leaving Knoxville was fairly easy and I came into yesterday’s travel thinking that would be the standard experience when flying as a disabled person with limited mobility. Nope.

Yesterday, we made it through our first flight coming back to Tennessee okay—stressed the hell out but okay. We had a layover in Houston and when we landed, things seemed to only get worse. Since we were flying in from outside of the US, we had to go back through security. At this point in traveling, I couldn't stand or walk at all, even with assistance. My body goes through intense muscle spasms and episodes of "locking up" to where standing or moving my lower half is impossible and, unfortunately, that's where I was at by the time we reached Houston. Upon alerting TSA that I would not be able to stand in the scanner, they had my husband wheel me over to a wall and there I sat as he was told to move through security without me.

All I could think was: I'm stuck. I can't stand on my own, I can't move this chair on my own. My belongings have gone through security, it's frakkin' cold, I don't know where my husband is, and all I can do is sit here and wait.

As I sat for what felt like hours, I heard myself talked about by TSA agents like a piece of luggage. "What are we going to do with her?" "Just leave her until someone can come." *Minutes later* "Oh, she's still there." "Well, leave her there, I guess."

I considered trying to "suck it up" and go through security but the reality was that the risk of doing so was worse than sitting there. I could fall and injure myself or cause such severe pain that I wouldn’t make it to or through our next flight.

One TSA agent did check in on me once to tell me that they were just waiting for a female agent to come do a pat down and she apologized. I said "It's okay," and tried to smile. I know their jobs are stressful and hard. I know they deal with some of the worst "Karens" on a daily basis. I just wanted to feel like they saw me as a human—not luggage.

Eventually, a female agent came over and said she would be doing my screening. She was very sweet and soft-spoken. She asked, "They don't have anyone here with you to help you get through to the screening area?" "No, they sent my husband through without me." Maybe I imagined it, but I felt like she wasn't happy to hear that. She assured me she would take care of me and get me through.

(TW: talk of TSA pat downs, physical body contact and discomfort)

There has been a lot of dialogue surrounding the screening process for wheelchair users and TSA pat downs. I will only speak for myself. I am an ambulatory wheelchair user, but for this particular security experience, I was wheelchair bound. I understand why some people may feel the TSA pat down is invasive. For me, it felt like the only alternative to standing in the full body scanner. Yes, it is sensitive and feels very personal but I saw and accepted the necessity to thoroughly screen every traveler. The embarrassment or discomfort was better than the pain I could have endured trying to make it through the scanner.

I will say: the agent who worked with me was kind and very informative. She asked about any painful areas she needed to be aware of and asked about my ability to lean or lift my limbs. She talked me through how the pat down would work, how her hands would touch various areas (the back of the hand on the chest, etc), and even alerted me as we went through the screening to what area she would touch next. It was done fairly quickly and then we were off to try and make our connecting flight.

Waiting to get through TSA had used up our chance to get food before the next flight and I knew if I took my pain medicine on an empty stomach I would likely get sick on the plane. I spend every day contemplating things like that; constantly weighing my options and trying to decide when is a better time to be in pain so I can plan my levels of movement accordingly. Deciding how to ration my pain medication because I'm terrified of becoming addicted. So I spent our last flight in pain and in tears.

While disabled travelers may be the first to board a plane, they are the last to deboard if they are waiting for an aisle chair or their chair/walker to be unloaded from cargo. So, we were in the fourth row but had to wait while others left. Things were moving quickly, as there were only 70 something passengers on board.

As I sat, the passenger in front of me began to throw a verbal fit to his wife about how ”f*cked” they were. They had boarded very late and had to put one of their overhead bags further back on the plane. According to him, they were “f*cked” and would have to wait and he wasn’t shy about letting others know just how “f*cked” they were.

Waiting for his bag so they could leave the plane was the worst thing that man could imagine in that moment.

That’s not what’s wrong with this situation to me. I didn’t expect him to be thinking, “Hey! This is great. I love watching everyone leave before me,” or “It’s okay that I have to wait because other people have it worse in the world.” He just wanted to go home and this was one more thing keeping him from it.

But I was left with this thought: we’re all in the same boat (or we’re all on the same plane, maybe?). Some people get stuck waiting to get off the plane, some get stranded when their flight is cancelled, some get sick and never leave home at all, and some are left alone in a wheelchair at security wondering what in the hell is going on. We’re all going through it.

Sure, I could’ve screamed at the woman who finally came to do my pat down because of what her coworkers said, I could’ve pulled out my phone and started recording TSA agents with hopes of getting people fired, I could have gotten rude with the passenger ahead of me for being impatient when I felt like my pain was more pressing because, truthfully, my first thought toward him was anger and judgement before I found compassion. But I knew his anger and I had the same desire: to just go home.

Maybe, if we can all remember that we’re all on the same plane or in the same boat or, hell, just living on the same damn planet, we can move through life with more grace, compassion, and understanding than we did before.

We’re all in this together. Love & light, ya weirdos.