Fellow passengers

I occasionally write something whilst at airports.  I am not usually short of inspiration and time passes slowly when you have finally navigated security.

This time round I am struck by the number of people that are waiting for mobility assistance. I was feeling a little jaded until I passed by the dedicated bay. It is near a Deli sign that reads 'Monster Fully Loaded Onion Ring,  Mayo, Sausage and Egg Half Loaf'. In smaller playful text beneath it, a further qualifier of this culinary wonder: 'Think Titanic'. I am pondering the mindset that created this enticing pre-long distance flight digestive challenge. I ask myself if the unfortunate reference is intentionally humorous. I conclude that it is an error of judgement.

But it is the crowd of my fellow pre-boarders that draws me in. I am quickly brought up short for my dour demeanor and blasé attitude to travel. Even more so, for taking for granted my ability to still  trundle unaided  up and down the airport, laden with duty free goods, feeling bored.

A dozen or more travellers, all looking splendid in crisp, bright summer clothes are waiting patiently in a dedicated bay. They are temporarily parked it seems, on a variety of mobility chairs and scooters. They appear without exception to be (unlike me) full of life, giggly, chatting and exchanging jokes with airport staff. A gentleman in his 80s with a huge toothy grin winks at me as he is being pushed along in a wheelchair by an airport attendant while his partner struggling on stiff hips (I imagine her joints clicking like mine) heroically  navigates the crowded corridor of our tiny regional airport. I am impressed by her stoicism,  her use of an elegant walking stick. I fantasise about a bespoke walking stick of my own, if and when my time comes to adopt one. I come back to reality. 

A younger woman in an electric mobility scooter rushes past. She too looks stunning in a dress with a striking sunflower design.  Two couples are boarding my flight, pushing their partners in airport mobility chairs. I feel humbled and inspired, chastised and grateful, aware once again to the inevitable approach of old age, the possibility of needing support from others to get from A to B.

I ponder for a moment what I would do if I was in a wheelchair. I seriously doubt that I would be so brave, as to navigate a crowded airport and fly for many hours. Not to mention the endless preparations, the unpredictability of public services both here and abroad and  the sheer effort of it all. I ask myself if I would be big enough to accept help. I realise that I am oversimplifying here, in my brief glimpse at airport life. I know from professional though not personal experience, that lack of mobility is a hard and challenging path, made harder by society's often flagrant  disregard for those with diverse needs.

I suddenly feel guilty for focusing disproportionately on my elderly co-travellers and those needing assistance and look up to read the miniscule screen announcements.

The lady opposite me is reading a book titled 'A Positively Final Appearance'. I try to avoid overthinking it and open a bag of mini mars bars I bought at duty free as a gift for a friend's children. Won't hurt them to eat more healthily I muse as I think of my dentist and wince.