Wheeling around PDX Travelogue for the Disabled 11242018

Tags

So, to continue about my adventures.  I had walked on a bum knee and twisted ankle long enough. shooting pain in my legs forced me to limp up to a checkout counter for Alaska Airlines.  The worker there was not busy but really stressed.  He demanded to know if it was my flight, explaining he couldn’t order a wheelchair for my flight as I was on a different airline. I assured him I just wanted a wheel chair to get me back to the other side of the airport where my departure gate will be,

He seemed relieved and told me to have a seat and he would call the wheelchair service. The wheelchair service person arrived within 5 minutes.  He chatted with me as he pushed me towards my departure gate.  He asked if I was ok, and about my injury.  Not invasive, just conversational.  He used to work for United he said, but since they hired another wheelchair service he found a job with another area of the airport.  He felt out of place returning to United area as it had been months since he had walked in that area. Since the wheelchair did not belong to the area, he helped me into a seat near the agent counter.

After about an hour, I realized I needed the service again.  I had to hobble to the agent counter.  The agent was helpful and was concerned that I was trying to board the current flight as they were booked to capacity.  I assured her that my flight was in the morning but I would like a wheelchair now as I needed to get around.

The United wheelchair service woman was quite helpful.  She pushed me into the restroom.  Let me climb onto the seat and waited outside with the chair.  I used the support bars with full intention of acting as my legs were not strong so I could sense what it was like to be entirely dependent on your arms for mobility.  After which, she wheeled me to the sink.  A lady cut in front of me at the sink, then she kept looking back and smiling a big smile.  She talked to me as if I had a mental disability.  And she cut me off at the towel dispenser, after drying her own hands, she handed me two towels.  I think she thought she was being helpful.  I found it annoying, but I told her thank you as she handed me the towels.

I then with the help of the wheelchair service woman, whose name was on a name tag which was hidden by her lapel. I went to buy dinner.

Oh another disability I have is the inability to see so many feet away.  So, menu boards placed above the counter are useless to me without my glasses.  So, I asked the server what they have. And after they scrambled to locate a menu, coming up with only a Spanish menu.  I told the ladies I can read Spanish, they still said, no, they don’t want to complicate it for me.  So I finally just said I will take the standard cheeseburger and fries and a soda.  Not my first choice but I couldn’t read the menu.

I was then wheeled back to my departure gate.  During which the conversation turned to how long I was going to be in the airport.  I was told that the service would stop after the last plane for the evening which would be 2 am or roundabouts.  So, I asked for one I could wheel myself.  She left me at the gate and went in search of a self-propelled wheelchair.

She found one, it belonged to Southwest.  She said that she had talked to her boss and they had agreed that due to my circumstances they could provide the Southwest wheelchair and if I ran into any conflicts, I was to have them call the supervisor.

Stay tuned, I will discuss my experiences in a self-propelled wheelchair at the Portland, Oregon, International Airport;

 

Frontier Airlines First Aid response great Travelogue for Disabled 11242018

So, once I decided it was time to walk to the back area of the plane I encountered one of the hostesses.  I told her my story, and she immediately put her book down.

“Oh my gosh!  I will check up front to see if we have anything for that.”

She came to my seat, with a glass of water, some napkins, an alcohol cleansing wipe and three band-aids.  I was quite appreciative and immediately went to work on cleansing the wound.  The woman next to me began talking to me about my accident and voiced concern about my ankle.  I had been so focused on getting the open wound repaired, I had not been focusing on my ankle.  It was after I landed in PDX is when that pain started to rear its ugly head.

Bad First Aid response in Denver Airport Travelogue for Disabled 11242018

Ok. so I am on my way to Hawaii.  I was walking on a sidewalk, and my foot slipped off of the edge, I twisted my right foot and tore the skin off of my left knee.  I then continued to walk for an hour seeking public transportation which I did not locate. Giving up, I could for a lyft ride.  I was not going to miss my flight to Hawaii.  So, I ignored my injuries.  I made to Denver International Airport and walked through TSA and to the gate of my departure.  My knee was hurting and I stopped to examine it.  The skin had torn off of my knee cap about the size of a silver dollar.  My jeans had ripped leaving the area exposed to wind, rubbing of jeans against and open wound.  I inquired at the frontier agent booth as to whether they had a first aid kit.  That was a negatory.  Then I was directed to a security station around the corner.  That man in strong Spanish accent told me I had to walk all the way back to the info desk or I could just buy some supplies in the store across the way.  I told the agent at the counter to not direct anyone to security, they are really not that helpful. I then sat down at the disable chairs and asked the agent could I sit here? He said Of Course and I was resting as the pain in my knee increased.  I did however get on the plane in the first grouping as I felt I would need a little more time to board as I was limping.

Travelogue for Disabled 11242018 Huh?

Please review the page that defines this project.

I am at the Portland Airport.  I had ordered a fish and chips meal and was standing at the exit line waiting to hear my name.  A woman dropped a tray with the fish and chips and said “Raven” which is a name I use in public for my orders.  As I approached the counter, she looked at me in the eyes and said “Baraven” I hesitated.  With I am certain was a quizzical expression.  “Brandon” she said this a third time louder.  Oh my, I am so embarrassed, and I moved out of the way as a young man came up to grab his tray. The server lady looked at me exasperated like “wait your turn!” I can’t tell you how many times I have endured these type of experiences.  I don’t look deaf, nor do I speak as if I am deaf so more often than not, I get a rude behavior who don’t realize the challenge I experience being unable to quite hear, or my brain translates the word into a different word, what is referred to by linguists as aphasia.