Friday, May 8, 2009

Ode to the wheelchair travels (or some other silly title)

I'm really big on using the theme song music from The Beverly Hillbillies in things. I've written a poem about my dad and his experiences in a one-room school house in Pennsylvania using the music. I've also done just funny little ditties using the music. So, it was only natural for me to automatically think of putting the airport travels to words and this music.

Let me tell ya'all a story 'bout traveling on a plane
Unloading your own bags can sure be quite the pain

Now, add disabled man and a wheelchair to the mix
And you can see that I was surely in a fix

Bags, that is... Wheelchair, too

Now it's hard to get some help without waving lots of bucks
Doing it yourself, yes really does quite suck

I'd have gladly paid them more if they'd only volunteered
'Cause asking them for help just made me feel quite weird

Exhausted, that is... Drained of energy

When a helper did show up, lady grabs him by the hand
Says Mister, we'll use you - that is quite the plan

Mom, just have a seat and we'll get you out of here
So they loaded her on up and left me standing there

Ticked, that is... Totally frustrated

Helper shrugs his shoulders and says he'll call for help
But since the plane was late, that really was no help

Man from behind then handed me his stuff
And grabbed the wheelchair handles because it was so tough

Slow moving... Steep ramp

By the time we found connection we had minutes left to spare
Said they were closing the doors so better get on there

Rolled him down the ramp and got him in his seat
Collapsed next to him and said I think I'm beat

Exhausted, still. All done in... For sure...

When I got to the Wichita terminal to leave last week, it was quite early (5:00 am) and there were a lot of people unloading for the early morning flights. I saw there were two airport "porters" standing there waiting to help people. I told Ron that I was sure one would come over to help as soon as they saw me. They didn't, so here's how it went...
Unload wheelchair, take to door.
Go back to car, unload suitcase, take to door.
Go back to car, unload suitcase, take to door.
Go back to car, unload suitcase, take to door.
Go back to car, close hatch, tell Ron I'll go park the car and the porters will help him inside. Tell him where to go.
Go park in Timbuktu, walk back; Ron and suitcases still at the door.
Try to get it all; not happening.
Look down at the two porters still standing there and say, "do you think I could get some help here? I've got 3 suitcases and a wheelchair." One decides to saunter down to us.
We only had to go right inside the door and instead of taking the bags to the front (which is what usually happens and then they're just there when I get to the front of the line), he put the bags right behind me. I had to move a bag, move Ron, move a bag, move Ron. Luckily, there were only three people in line ahead of me.

Oh... the man got a $2 tip.


Lover of Life said...

Shame on those porters for not stepping up and helping you all the way to the end. So sorry things have to be so difficult. Thanks for stopping by my blog. Have a happy Mother's Day.

soapymomponders said...

Thanks. I've started following your blog. It's good reading!