Here Is Something They Got Right

Two weeks ago, I traveled from Colorado back to California for a total knee replacement surgery. The surgery had been scheduled before we moved, so we decided to keep the schedule in place. My surgeon did a wonderful job, and my initial recovery was spent in Bakersfield with my daughter.
On Wednesday, the surgeon took the staples out of my knee, and I prepared for my trip back to Colorado. I will admit that I was fearful of the trip. There are so many horror stories about traveling with disabilities. But, I must say my trip an amazing experience.
The experience began as we pulled up to the curb at Orange County, John Wayne Airport. Frontier employees ordered a wheel chair, which met me at the curb. The young man who helped me made sure that my bags were checked, and that I had my seating taken care of. The ticket agent decided that I needed a better seat, and moved me to the very front of the plane where I could extend my leg out into the galley.
From there, the young man took me to the security checkpoint. He was gracious and gentle, removing my shoes for me, and made sure that all metal was removed. He sent three containers through the machine then secured them on the other side. Then, he came back and escorted me into the physical screening area. The TSA agent was very supportive, and kind. He went overboard to insure that I was comfortable with what he was doing.
The young man, put my shoes back on, helped put my stuff back together, and delivered me to the gate. Before he left, he made sure that I had everything I needed and that I was comfortable waiting for my plane.
When I arrived in Denver, a wheelchair was waiting for me. I was wheeled to the gate, where another employee put me on an electric cart. From there I was driven to the edge of the security checkpoint, where a terrific young lady was waiting with yet another wheel chair. She took me to the baggage claim, retrieved my bags, and pushed me plus two bags to the arrival area where I could be picked up.
She stayed with me until the car arrived, and the luggage was placed in the car. She was not satisfied with letting me try to walk to the car. She rolled me to the right up to the car door and made sure I was secure in my seat.
I was so impressed with her caring attention toward me. In my mind, she deserved a good tip, as did the other two employees who helped me from the plane. When I tried to give a tip, she refused it say that she was not allowed to take tips, and that she was just happy for the opportunity to help me.
My experience at both ends of the trip were great, but I honestly want to commend Frontier Airlines for being so supportive, and helpful. They knew how much I had been through, and it almost felt like I became their singular focus throughout the trip. When a company gets it right, they deserve to be noticed. Frontier got it right.

Here Comes The TSA

It finally happened. I was standing in the security line at the airport, and I was “randomly” pulled out to go through the body scan machine. I have worried about this machine, and how all of the metal in my back might look. I was not anxious to explain my disability to a perfect stranger, even if it was a government agent.

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to stand over here for additional screening.” I knew it was just a matter of time, but my heart sank nonetheless. The machine whipped around me scanning the inside of my body. When it was finished, the TSA agent began talking into the walkie-talkie mouthpiece attached to his shoulder.

The TSA agent moved me even farther from the crowd and made me stand still. Certainly they saw the three pounds of metal in my back. I had visions of strip searches, and humiliation. I thought about pleading my disability in hopes of being left alone, but the words did not come out in time.

As I began to explain my circumstances, the TSA agent stopped me. “Sir, do you have anything in your left front pocket?” What? Left front pocket? I thought about it and said, no all of my metal and coins are in the basket that went through the machine. But wait, there was something in my pocket. Asking permission to move, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, a root beer barrel.

Here I was ready to cry foul, to complain about be harassed because of my disability, when all I was accused of was having a piece of candy in my pocket. Just because my disability is always on my mind, doesn’t mean that my disability is on everyone else’s mind. Sometimes people are just doing their job. Don’t be so quick to defend yourself. You may just have a root beer barrel in your pocket.