It turns out that this Thursday was a surreal day. I was up at 3:15 a.m. and out of my Airbnb at 3:45 a.m.. The taxi ride to the airport was quick, but the lines there were long. Hurricane Helene was big on my notifications and I was sure the flight would be cancelled. I wanted it to be so that I could go several days later and not get caught in the Miami airport for days. But I was assured that not only was the Bogota-Miami flight was on time, but so was the Miami-Asheville flight. I didn’t believe them, but the woman checking me in was so nice and friendly that I said I would risk it. I had no choice, really.
In Asheville it was raining. Hurricane Helene, was already here dropping twenty inches overnight. Susie picked me up and we went to my son Tom’s house to spend the night and watch for hurricane damage since his lower floor was already leaking.
Before the flight I had registered for a wheel chair, my understanding being that then, despited my basic ticket status which didn’t allow me to get an aisle seat, I would be given an aisle seat. But the night before when I checked in on line I changed my mind. The week before Susie had gotten a window seat and said the view was terrific, so I was given a choice to choose a seat at no cost and chose a window seat.
But when I got in the line to check my bag at the airport, I was asked if I needed a wheel chair. No, I said, I’d like one in Miami. But soon three young Colombians surrounded me and said it was a long walk to the gate and I should have a wheel chair. So I gave in. I felt like a fool. If I could make it down four miles of slippery rocky trail two weeks before (admittedly thinking I was going to die of heat stroke) I could make it to the gate on my own. But it turned out having a wheel chair meant that I skipped the long security line for a much shorter wheelchair line. And then with almost no time to spare the young woman pushing me raced to the gate where I was one of the last people on.
In Miami I was again given a wheel chair and pushed first to the customs area where I was in a special line and then the long ride to the gate where I was dropped off in plenty of time. Miami was sunshiny, no hurricane in sight, and we left right on time for what turned out to be a very bumpy flight.
But the big event of the day was succumbing to a wheel chair ride. I felt like such a fool. But I also discovered that it was extremely pleasant and probably was what got me to the first flight on time. The pleasant part was not having to stand forever in lines, which at 87, causes my back to ache and makes me want to sit down. The second pleasant part was cutting to the front over every line. The third part was not having to run to catch my plane which would have exhausted me. So I am a convert to taking a wheel chair when I can.
BILLYBABA’S WANDERING 