An artistic rendering of a wheelchair user on an airplane, He sits in his chair in the main cabin. Head slightly down. Looking outside the window.
Today, I find myself echoing the eloquent Inigo Montoya from "The Princess Bride."
"Accessibility: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
The prospect of spontaneously selecting a destination and embarking on a journey has never been feasible for me, whether it's a simple night out or a more extended travel. There's always a near-reflexive need for research, extensive planning and, unfortunately, a dose of apprehension about the journey ahead. An unavoidable question looms: "Will this trip be as disability-friendly as it claims to be?"
From the moment a trip idea sparks, anxiety follows.
A recent USA TODAY article by Zach Wichter underscored a disheartening truth: Progress for disabled travelers is not coming fast enough. According to the latest U.S. Department of Transportation data, airlines damage or otherwise mishandle about 1.5% of the mobility devices they transport each month. In 2022, that meant 11,389 incidents. It's essential to note these figures may not fully represent the issue, as not everyone reports their damage to the airline. When your legs are broken, the bureaucracy of filing paperwork may feel insurmountable.
Every trip brings with it the fear of damage to my wheelchair. More than a mobility device, it's an extension of myself, and much like Canine Companions® Pico, integral to my autonomy and freedom. The idea of it being damaged, lost or mishandled during a flight isn't unfounded, and no amount of in-flight entertainment can alleviate that anxiety.
Travel can be equally challenging for those with non-physical disabilities. As Heather Ansley from Paralyzed Veterans of America aptly said, “Air travel discriminates against just about every group of people with disabilities."
Fears extend beyond the flight.
Will the hotel room genuinely be wheelchair-accessible? I can't count how many times I've booked rooms purportedly adhering to ADA guidelines that I physically couldn't enter. Actuators are missing, doors are heavy, and I often lack the necessary space to maneuver through the doorway. The same quizzical response usually follows when I raise these issues to hotel management: "You know, that's a good point. We'll look into that!"
Then there's the enjoyment of the trip itself.
Can I navigate independently? What types of pathways are available? Will I be able to visit local attractions, or will I encounter insurmountable steps or broken elevators? When I inquire about accessibility, I'm asking, 'Can I navigate this by myself?' It's not a prelude to a joke about how many non-disabled people it takes for a disabled person to enjoy autonomy.
Accessibility isn't merely about adding ramps or widening doorways. It's about genuinely understanding and addressing the unique needs of each individual.
While it's encouraging to see progress — like Sen. Duckworth's proposed MOBILE Act—we are still far from where we need to be.
#GlobalAccessibilityAwarenessDay #Travel
Cruising Altitude: Progress for disabled travelers is not coming fast enough
