TRANSITION
Most of yesterday and today I have tried to wrap up loose ends and to finally do things that I have put off for weeks. This happens on every trip. Everything I put off, car registration, paying bills suddenly needed to be done. Plus, if I wanted to pack light I had to consider exactly what to take to a country that has three climates and where I don’t want to take one thing extra but also not leave anything necessary behind. But I don’t have much to else to report about Tuesday.
And the next day, Wednesday, I traveled all day. Susie and I traveled on differnt airlines at different times because the flight on American had gone up by the time I got her ticket, which meant that I could drive her to the airport in the morning and she could come to the airport in Bogata to pick me up and take me to our Airbnb on the 14th floor of a modern building when I got there.
But two things happened on our flights that were of interest. On her flight from Asheville to Atlanta and then on to Bogata was a man with an odd white costume and an odd white hat. Maybe he was shaman from a forest tribe in Colombia who didn’t speak either English or Spanish. Susie didn’t learn much about him from a man who was dropping him off at the airport and never learned anything more since he couldn’t communicate with anyone. When Susie showed an interest in him in Asheville he attached himself to her and followed her everywhere for the rest of the trip, apparently overwhelmed by everything with no idea what was going on. He even tried to follow her into the women’s bathroom. She was late meeting the driver that was picking her up in Bogata because she first had to help him find his checked baggage. But it made her trip.
For me the interesting thing was asking for a wheelchair. The reason I wanted a wheel chair was that I wanted an aisle seat so that I wouldn’t have to crawl over anyone to go to the bathroom on the flight which I have to do oftener and oftener as I get older. But I was flying basic with no changes, no checked baggage, no seat choice and I didn’t want to pay $60 for an aisle seat. My friend Hasmukh Patel flew recently from India to the USA a month after open heart surgery. When I mentioned that I liked having an aisle seat he said to ask for a wheel chair. If you were on a wheel chair you were going to get an aisle seat instead of having to squeeze your way in. So, because I am 87 and a wheel chair would seem reasonable, I asked when I bought a ticket, for a wheel chair.
When I got to the Asheville Airport I wasn’t offered a wheel chair. In Miami where I changed flights I had wanted a wheel chair because if the connection was suddenly very close I wanted to be rushed to my gate and if I had to go through security again I would go through to the front of the line and because if it was a very long distance, which it was, I wouldn’t wear myself out. But no wheel chair was offered in Miami and I had time. But when I saw one of those carts flying past I stopped it and asked for a ride which was great fun because the woman driver was Colombian and had lived in Bogata so we talked the whole long way to my gate. My flight out was delayed but when they opened the gate for departure they called out my name. I wondered if it was some security issue or if my boarding pass was incorrect and went straight up. I was nervous. But it was neither one. Finally my wheel chair request was being honored even though I was only 100 feet from boarding. I was asked very solititously if I could walk by myself and if I needed help boarding. A little sheepish I said no. But I was now the very first passenger to board, before priority boarding. The overhead bin was completely empty so I put both my carry on and backpack into it although the backpack was supposed to go under the seat in front of me. And I had an aisle seat. I even had an empty seat next to me and with the help of an albrazalam pill slept all the way to Bogata where Susie met me.
BILLYBABA’S WANDERING 