We’re sitting in the airport in Amsterdam. Our travels began at 1pm out of Manhattan to JFK airport. The last two hours have been spent putting out the fires associated with getting a wheelchair and a disabled passenger through 3 airports in different countries. We’re heading to Georgia in an hour.
That’s the country of Georgia. Not to be confused with the state known for chicken and waffles. This is the first American Film Showcase that I’ve been a part of. I’m fully excited and it’s great looking at other colleagues of filmmakers on the AFS website to see where they’re going. Reading Dawn Porter’s log about her trip to Bangaladesh, or Stanley Nelson’s travels to Egypt. [Cross check]
Provide some great insight as to how the program runs and what the film-makers roles are as envoys for both AFS and the United States of America’s film-making process.
So far, we haven’t had any troubles.
Other than the fact that my cab to JFK from Manhattan didn’t show up. In typical fashion of the New York City wheelchair cab service, they only came after an hour of waiting and multiple phone calls to remind them of our address and that we are in a rush due to the flight. I’m always surprised at how difficult it has been all these years traveling as a person in a wheelchair and poor accommodations of the city to help us get around, just like everybody else. After the final phone call, which we yelled at the receptionist for the cab company, the cab finally arrives.
We gathered the luggage, and went out to meet our cab. I was loaded into the luggage compartment of the wheelchair cab.
My personal assistant, Colin, traveled from Portland and arrived that morning. After a quick run-through on my needs and processes, we were ready to go. Our luggage loaded into the cab, we disembarked for the airport. Another thing about the wheelchair cabs in NYC - not only are they consistently tardy, but they are uncomfortable for their passengers. Especially when the cab driver slams on the brakes and throttles the engine, sometimes at the same time. In NYC cab-driver fashion, he got us there. As to our state of mind when we arrived, rattled would be accurate.
Check-in was easy and uneventful, surely a foreshadowing of the difficulties awaiting us. 8 hours later, we arrived in Amsterdam. While not a consideration for the general public, those of us using wheelchairs must wait until the entire plane is unloaded before they can arrange our own departure. In the past I’ve waited on airplanes for up to two hours while the airports wheelchair assistants franticly run around attempting to determine where my wheelchair is.
See my past blog (Santa Fe) for more examples of these uniquely-singular, always-memorable exploits.
So anyways, back to Amsterdam. After an hour of waiting, we finally were able to leave the plane to find out that my wheelchair was not at the gate as it normally is. We were informed that it was taken to baggage claim, and that we would be able to pick it up there. We were greeted by a constantly shifting staff of airport attendants who promptly ushered us to the airports exit and the baggage claim holding area. Only after questioning them on this process did we discover that they intended to have us leave the airport and enter Amsterdam (without visas.) Luckily, we had a four hour lay-over to help us sort out the logistical nightmare that is traveling across the world for a wheelchair user.
Following our conversation, the airline attendants spoke with each other in a foreign tongue, coming to the conclusion that we most certainly should not be leaving the airport, and that our bags were unattached to any ticket. Meanwhile, the wheelchair is at the baggage claim separated from us by a customs official who might have had an issue with readmitting us into an airport without appropriate paperwork or visas. After much discussion, one of the attendants went through customs to grab our wheelchair. Returning, she made a point of telling us how lucky we were to have not followed her through the gate (I definitely don’t disagree with her sentiments.)
Having reunited with our wheelchair, we had to reassemble the battery and begin the arduous task of finalizing our boarding pass with the appropriate baggage attached. Half an hour and three help desks later, we’re awaiting pickup from the well-mannered but poorly informed airport assistants.
If and and when we arrive in Georgia, we will be continuing this blog. The joy of international airport travel with a power chair lets you know you’re alive.
As a person who relies on a wheelchair for the last ten years, I’ve come to understand that situations like this are unavoidable and best dealt with a combination of frustration and humor. Another example of how the simple things in life slow people with physical mobility challenges down that are unrealized to the average able bodied traveler.
