We had just landed after a short hop from Orlando to Atlanta, and we have about 90 minutes to make our connection to Cape Town.
Stepping off the plane we are approached by a man saying, “are you Mr Osman?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes”, says Jackie, my wife.
“Oh, here we go,” I think.
I look at Jackie and say, “why am I Mr Osman exactly?”
“Because, he has a sign that says, Mr Opperman,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, “that’s clear.”
Looking at me this tall man says again, “are you Mr Osman?”
“No,” I say, “I am Mr Opperman, but if it helps I can answer to Mr Osman.”
“Good,” he says, “do you need assistance?”
“Ah, excellent,” I say, “yes, can you help us?”
“Do you need a wheelchair sir?”
“Oh, here we go,” I mutter, sotto voce, although not particularly sotto I suspect.
“No I don’t need a wheelchair, but we could use an escort,” I say.
“Sure sir, just let me park the wheelchair, and I will help you in any way I can. my name is Acer by the way.”
Jackie and I looked at each other and said in unison, “Yes!”. We would have high fived or punched the air if our hands had not been full.
What followed was the most relaxing transit we have ever had. No stress, no worrying about taking a wrong turn or making a mistake; just a comfortable walk, including trains, escalators and travelators from arrivals to the departure gate for our last flight.
Acer striding confidently with me holding lightly on his arm, practicing what is called sighted guide, my white cane still held at the ready.
Jackie happily trotting behind us, absolutely blissful at not having to worry about stressful decisions and way finding.
So just to explain a little. We are on a wonderful trip to the US to see our daughter and for some Rotary International business. Three weeks before, the very efficient lady at Delta at Cape Town International had asked me, after I had enquired about booking MAA (or meet and assist for those who aren’t familiar with the term), “would you like a wheelchair or an escort sir?”
“Escort please,” I said having never heard of that particular service before.
However, as it turned out, sadly, our only successful MAA experience – with the wonderful Acer, mentioned above – happened on our last flight inside the US. The other three airport arrivals met with either no MAA in evidence or something like the following exchange, which happened on arrival in Atlanta from Cape Town.
“Did you book assistance,” the lady says, noticing my cane I presume, as I stepped out of the plane into the mouth of the airbridge.
“Yes,” I said “Are you here to help us?”
“Do you need a wheelchair sir?” She says patting her wheelchair hopefully.
“No thanks, we booked an escort facility actually, can you help?”
“Sorry sir, I am only authorised to take people in wheelchairs.”
“Surely,” I said, “you only have to drop off the wheelchair and accompany us?”
“Sorry sir, I can’t help you.”
“Oh well!” Jackie and I sighed together, we tried.
And so, we managed, of course.
“A little right, ok, that’s good, now left, left, more left, ok that’s good keep it like that, straighten up, no, not right, I said straighten up!”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” I hear Jackie say to someone.
“Careful sweetie! you nearly ran over that old lady!”
“Sorry, sorry, this bloody trolley seems to want to go the left and I am fighting it!” Says I, panting as I wrestle with the recalcitrant trolley.
And so we wobbled across a labyrinthine Atlanta airport with me trying to keep pace with Jackie and her trolley to my left, while she sings out directions.
We are discovering that the bonus of trans-Atlantic travel includes being allowed two bags each, comes at a cost when travelling with a blind person who has to push his own trolley alongside the sighted person’s trolley, since conventional trollies are too small for four large bags plus hand luggage.
This is a good time to highlight one of the consequences of accompanying a blind traveller.
It can be hard stressful work for the travel assistant or anyone acting in that role, unless that assistant is extremely familiar with that particular airport.
I am very aware that travel like this is accumulatively stressful for Jackie and yet there is little I can do to help her, other than to be relentlessly cooperative and to try organise meet and assist if possible.
Not to overlook travel assistants in general, but I truly believe that partners of blind travellers are unsung heroes who have to shoulder the myriad logistical responsibilities involved in travel when travelling with their blind partner. This effort is too often taken for granted, possibly by the blind person, or others who think nothing of it.
Which is why professional assistance in this context can be such a vital accommodation in disabled travel.
Sadly however, by all accounts, MAA appears to be too often really inefficient or missing in action since the pandemic, which is sad because there were many, many examples of wonderful service from this sector before.
The reason is simply that during Covid, airlines and airports all around the world haemorrhaged staff in their hundreds of thousands and many skilled and well trained personnel were lost to this essential service; leaving, it appears, a much reduced facility, albeit with pockets of excellence it must be said.
Finally, a note on independent blind travel:
Notwithstanding the commendable determination and competency of the many independent blind travellers out there, it must be remembered that regardless of the skill and experience of the most grizzled solo international blind traveller, at some point, assistance will be required. Usually related to navigation in large airport areas and that this assistance sought, in no way impugns their independence.
Other articles on this topic you may wish to read:
Jeremy Opperman is a DEI practitioner with extensive experience in disability equity and inclusion.