Photo Courtesy of wheelchairtravel.org
A Perspective
Flying has been turbulent for Americans recently thanks to government shutdowns and general incompetence, but it’s business as usual for wheelchair users.
For millions of disabled individuals, navigating airports is about as much fun as sleeping on the floor in the terminal in Newark or the middle seat between two big sweaty guys drinking beer and dipping onion rings into ranch dressing.
TSA, allegedly the Transportation Security Administration, to me stands for Traumatizes Small African-Americans. They are not fond of those of us who rely on our wheelchairs to get around. We are an inconvenience. We get lumped into the same category as international terrorists, drug smugglers and single mothers with screaming triplets.
In March TSA once again changed up its security processes, allegedly to improve safety and ease. Whether those goals came to fruition for able bodied folks I’ll let y’all decide, but for disabled passengers it’s the same-ol’, same-ol’.
Actually, unbelievably, they made things worse by changing the color of the tags that go on wheelchairs. Our chariots are now supposed to get pink tags, which means the chairs are carefully stashed and ready for us immediately after we deplane.
Problem is no one seems to have told TSA employees. My electric wheelchair got a white tag and disappeared into the innards of the plane like Jonah swallowed by the whale. When I disembarked my ride was nowhere in sight.
After hours of detective work my family finally found someone helpful. My chair had been routed to baggage claim while we were routed somewhere else. Another hour later–long after other passengers on our flight were safely home or comfortably having dinner at a local restaurant—they located my chair in the Lost and Found. I was finally able to climb atop my steed and exit into the sunset.
As inconvenient as all that was, I consider myself lucky. Treating my high-tech wheelchair like luggage or a sailor’s duffle bag could have damaged or destroyed it. Sending a wheelchair through the baggage process and dumping it at the Terminal 2 Lost and Found is insane.
My wheelchair was carefully designed to help me transcend my cerebral palsy and have a way to get around. My wheelchair allows me to go places, including Southwestern College and my beloved journalism class. Without it, I am housebound.
The airline and TSA risked my chair being damaged or lost. The Americans With Disabilities Act and the Air Carrier Access Act clearly say that airlines are required to return all devices in the
same condition as they were checked in. Damaged devices must be replaced or repaired with a device of equal or greater quality. Airlines are liable for compensation for lost or damaged devices, up to the original price.
That’s fine and dandy but repairing or replacing a chair like mine can take weeks or months. For me, losing my chair means losing mobility and a large degree of independence.
San Diego International Airport TSA employees and airlines must do better. My experience was hurtful and I felt disrespected. Disabled people have rights, too. We are more than just a number or a name to cross off a checklist. We are people with thoughts and feelings that deserve to be treated with the same courtesy and respect as other passengers—regardless of the color of your skin or the tag on your check-ins.
