Nov. 18, 2001 - 23:57 PST

THE WONDERING JEW

To the Gate

What once was a delaying and frustrating wait in line at the check-in counter at our airport when it was Stapleton International at Denver got worse when it moved to Denver International Airport. Lines were longer at the check-in the distances to the gates were much further and a train is used to go from the terminal to the concourses. And to top it off, for us instead of a five to ten minute trip getting there turned into a trek. Never counted the miles exactly, but to get from our residence to I-70 is about four miles, out I-70 about three miles and from I-70 to the airport is fifteen miles twentytwo miles plus or minus a bit. Parking may be a bit better, but it takes longer walks.

Before DIA (Damned Intensly Aching) going on a flight was a very tiring thing by the time we got to the gate. I finally became used to having to stow my cane in the overhead compartment and only take one carry on bag, a small one to put under the seat. and arriving destination totally pooped.

Then when DIA entered the picture a wheel chair bercame a necessity. This time, the learning curve steepened, now I am on oxygen. I experimented at home to see how long I could go without oxygen and not become a basket case. We figured that I could make the total trip from our home to destination without undue stress, if I didn't exert myself at all.

So it went like this, son loaded our bags in his wagon, took us to the airport and dropped us and the bags, then headed for work. Heather got a cart and put the bags on it and I went and sat at a point I thought I could watch her at the counter. I was able to and when it was her turn I went under the lane tapes and showed the agent my drivers license and then went back to sit down until a wheel chair showed up for me. A gentle, courteous lady showed up and took me through the security rigamarole, down to the train, concourse and after miles finally to our gate. It had been a long sweaty push for her, with me and two carry on bags on my lap, I felt guilty only giving her a ten dollar tip because I am sure those pushers are grossly underpaid, and she certainly served her time with me.

Without Lady Heather with me I surely would be a stay at home person.For a crippled person I don't think it is the extra time it takes to travel, it is the absolute necessity to have some one like her as the extra legs and helping hand to make it possible.

Yet, no train wreck here, I realize that I am a most fortunate person when I see people hardly able to move being brought to the gate and helped onto the aircraft when boarding time arrives. Blind people moving around the airport with their slender white wands waving back and forth before them making their way around as well as a sighted person. I see mothers trying to herd her gaggle of obstreperous children who are each trying to run in a different direction to a place where they can be put aboard with her on the aircraft. So my track is running smooth for now.

The small things though irk me, the loss of easy mobility, the ability to walk long distances easily, the ability to remain upright in line for more than a moment without suffering a pratt fall, - - - - - - and of course the absolute necessity of locating a loo near our gate is a prime factor. (aw, poor baby, so my learning curve goes on as I hope to keep up with the latest hinderance.

Our daughter met us at destination with oxygen gear, and her strong back and arms and got us loaded and taken to her home.

I guess after all the most important things of all are to be on time and make it To The Gate . . . . . . .

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