Time to go, with a little help
The morning of departure arrived. I like nothing more than getting up at 4am for a 6am flight. Not. My son had agreed to drive me to the airport which I thought was very nice of him. I knocked on his bedroom door to wake him up and he told me to bugger off! Not quite those words but you get the idea. Anyway, I bade him farewell, as my mind wandered to what the lawns would look like on my return, and said “see you in a month mate”. He grunted. I assume that means he was gruntled, but I digress.
This was not a good start to my trip. As a cheapskate, despite my cunning plan, I now had to pay good money for what was likely to be twelve minutes in a dirty, smelly Adelaide cab. A typically dirty, smelly Adelaide cab arrived within a few minutes, driven by a typically grumpy Adelaide taxi driver. After twelve minutes of blissful silence we arrived at the airport at 5:10am. $24 (including tip for not actually being rude to me and assisting me with my small bag) later, I was heading into the terminal.
At this point I should probably tell you a little about my health issue. Feel free to skip this bit if you don’t give a cough, but it does give a little context to my trip report.
I have a condition that means I can’t walk very well. Don’t get me wrong, I can walk, but tend to stumble and bar staff would sometimes refuse to serve me alcohol before I was suitably inebriated. The condition has been getting progressively worse over the last three years or so and has forced me to make some changes in how I live my life. I tend to travel with the same 2 or 3 work colleagues who are quite sympathetic and do all they can to assist me. For example, I never go to the bar to buy drinks when I am with them (I should point out that although I am a self-confessed cheapskate, I always pay for my rounds!), they willingly pick me up when I fall over and they form a human shield around me as I navigate steps.
A couple of years ago one of these colleagues started badgering me about getting a walking stick. As a way to overcome my stubbornness she bought me a foldable walking stick and presented it to me in the pub during a work trip. I soon found that this implement seemed to have magical powers. People stopped bumping into me, and I’ve even had bar staff offer to carry my drink to my table when I’m by myself. They no longer assume I’m drunk and serve me even when I am
. I also get fewer looks of disgust from other patrons. And I fall over less.
As I’ve said, the condition is getting progressively worse, there is no cure or even treatment, and I will need a wheelchair in coming years. Peoples’ attitude towards me has completely changed since I started using the stick as they now think I actually have a medical reason for stumbling around like a drunk. I now refer to it as my “sympathy stick”. Two of the worst outcomes of this is that I now have to check-in what used to be carry-on luggage and I can no longer sit in exit rows.
This all came to a head at Singapore airport two months ago. I was travelling MEL-SIN-HKG (funnily enough for an AFF lounge crawl) in SQ F with an overnight stay at Changi Crowne Plaza (using IHG points of course). This meant I was able to access The Private Room (TPR) on arrival at SIN and again pre-departure the next morning. As you can imagine, I availed myself of this privilege. After a glass of Champagne or two in TPR I headed to the Crowne Plaza. Fortunately for my pride, immigration was almost deserted. I had a small roller-board and a backpack. As I got on the escalator at the top of immigration the roller-board slipped down to the lower step and I fell A over T (for non Australians that means buttocks over breast). Fortunately, a staff member below heard the commotion and pressed the emergency stop button. My left shoulder and right shin took the brunt of the impact. Two staff assisted me, put me in a wheelchair, got me to sign a waiver when I refused to see a doctor, wheeled me through immigration, then to the Crowne Plaza, and then to my room! I thought that was exceptionally kind of them.
The next morning I rather gingerly made my way back to TPR via First Class check-in using just my walking stick. When I got to the KrisFlyer lounge they took one look at me and asked if I would like wheelchair assistance to board the plane. I thought about it for a few seconds and replied, “actually, yes please”. This was a first for me. They immediately summoned a wheelchair and took me into TPR. They took my order for a medicinal Champagne and said they would return to take me to the plane. They wheeled me to the plane door, I stumbled into my A380 suite, and they took care of my luggage. Four hours later we arrived at HKG. A wheelchair was waiting for me and I was wheeled through immigration. Having just flown first class they assumed I’d have a car waiting to pick me up. I explained that I would be catching the A10 bus to Aberdeen Harbour. There’s no other way for a cheapskate to travel! I asked to stop at an ATM then gave one of the two lovely ladies assisting me some money and she went off to top up my Octopus card. They then wheeled me to the bus stop. I had to direct them there as they had never done that before!
Anyway, I had now experienced “wheelchair assistance” and I was never going back. Four days later I was flying from HKG to Beijing on Dragonair in J and I requested the wheelchair assistance at check-in. This was the day of the AFF lounge crawl. Before you could blink an eye I was in The Wing First Lounge with Champagne in hand.
A few hours later (about ten) they came to get me for the flight from where they had left me. In the intervening hours I managed to stumble between OneWorld lounges with my fellow AFFers. While being wheeled to the plane I saw parts of HKG “ordinary” people never see. On the plane John & Jeanette Howard were seated in front of me. They had to walk themselves to the plane. Ha! We arrived in Beijing at about 3.30am and I was greeted by my free wheels. This time I did have a car waiting for me. It must have been 3 or 4 kms from the plane to the car with a 30 minute wait for my checked-in bag. All done sitting on my cough. Immigration was a breeze, although my fellow passengers didn’t seem to agree. I saw the Howards at the baggage carousel and they looked a little fatigued. My bag come out before theirs and off we went. I was completely hooked on this “wheelchair assistance” and was beginning to think how blessed I was to be a cripple. I’ll have to see about getting a disabled parking pass soon. Oh, the joy.
I don’t use the stick at work because I don’t want them to think I’m a cripple, they think I’ve got a dodgy back and knees.
Anyway, now that you all feel sorry for me, back to the trip report.
I always use a human at check-in now that I have to check my luggage in as I like to keep people employed. I made my way to the ADL lounge and to my delight the lovely Robyn was on reception. I’ve known her for years, back when she was at the CBR J lounge. I asked if she would be able to arrange wheelchair assistance for me on arrival at SYD and she was only too happy to oblige.
I only had a 90 minute layover at SYD but was still hoping for a quick Champagne breakfast . The bus transfer took quite a while as I was sharing with someone with significantly greater problems than I. When we got to immigration there was a bit of a wait as there were a lot of crew going through. A woman was panicking about missing her flight and she pushed in in front of me saying she had been told to go to the front of the queue. I asked her what flight she was on. QF127 which departs after my flight. I let it go. My flight was now boarding so we were heading straight to the gate. Just as we were passing the escalator to the F lounge I heard an announcement that my flight had been delayed. I asked to go to the F lounge and up we went, after explaining that my economy boarding pass would indeed allow me access. So Champagne breakfast it was. Don’t you just hate delayed flights
.
Just as my second glass arrived so did the wheelchair. I feel it’s quite uncouth to skull Champagne, but as my Grandmother used to say, "waste not, want not". A very wise woman. This is the same woman who, in 1985, when I told her that I was moving in with my girlfriend, said "yes, I think it's a good idea to give it a try before you get married". She was 81 at the time! Again, I digress.
After a long delay in the aerobridge I was wheeled to the door and stumbled to my seat. Nothing to do with the Champagne of course. Remember, I have a walking stick.
