I would like to share with you my last experience at our international airport after returning from a rather intense trip to Greece.
I was accompanying my mother (I won’t mention her age, because she wouldn’t like it. She says she’s 59 for a long time and for a long time…I’m 61, so if you know some counting). She is a fit lady, but unfortunately she fell during the trip and inflicted a double fracture of her pelvis. I spare you all the details of this Homeric epic. Our return flight with Air Canada was scheduled for May 8th.
As soon as we arrive at the Athens airport, with our luggage and our new tools (cane and wheelchair), I notice about a dozen attendants for people in need of assistance. They are identified by a fluorescent yellow jacket with pictograms representing assistance for visual, hearing and mobility impairments. In addition, at each numbered entrance to the airport there is a clearly identified station for people in need of assistance. There are seats and a telephone.
PHOTO PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR
Manon Bernier and her mother, Liette
After a visit to the toilet room (very clean and equipped, just at the entrance, with a large well-appointed cabin for people in wheelchairs), we go to the station in order to obtain assistance. I am asked for the entrance number, the name of the airline and the time of the flight as well as our names.
A few moments later, a charming young man shows up. He pushes the chair to the Air Canada counter while another takes care of the baggage for check-in.
He takes us to security on a priority basis and collects our cabin bags. He accompanies us to our boarding gate. A rather long journey during which we discuss our respective countries. With sparkling eyes, he confides in me that he dreams of one day settling in Montreal.
The Air Canada agent, without our having asked for it, offered us new seats with more space and near a toilet equipped for people with mobility problems. I tell myself that I can finally breathe.
The day and the night
After a 10 hour flight, once the other passengers have left, an employee of the airport (unidentified, but also very nice) picks up my mother, with a wheelchair, at the exit of the plane. After covering a certain distance, he receives a call and asks us to wait, which we do for long minutes. Eventually he comes back pushing another lady in a wheelchair. Curiously, he is alone and asks me to take care of my mother’s chair.
So I put all our bags on his lap and comply. He shows us the elevators and then he disappears. I realize you have to be pretty quick to catch an elevator when you’re loaded like we were. The door is about to close when a woman with a young child in a stroller asks to be held to let us in. Once at the arrivals and customs level, which is crowded, we are alone and I see no one to direct us. The same young woman comes back to tell me where the terminals are for people in need of assistance.
There are six terminals, three of which are not working (they are not identified as faulty). Finally, after two unsuccessful attempts, this same lady who, in addition to her child, seems to take care of a group of four people, finally finds me a working terminal.
We pass in front of the customs officer who does not give us any instructions to facilitate our return either. So we take the elevator again to pick up our luggage. Just before, we pass to the bathroom which is very narrow and I maneuver the chair with difficulty to sneak past a long line of ladies. They look at the floor or elsewhere, and I tell myself that I would probably have had better luck in the men’s room.
The only toilet for people with disabilities is at the back of the room and, of course, it is out of order…
I get our luggage on the carousel, where there is still obviously no one there to help us. I give several one-handed pushes on the chair, which plods forward a few feet while repeatedly retrieving my suitcase from behind while my mother holds the bags in her lap with one hand, and pulls her suitcase with the other. . We head into the exit funnel, where there is no queue for people with mobility impairments, through crowds eager to get out, tired children, etc. I notice a poster that says to have our customs declarations in hand (I’m missing at least two pairs of hands). I finally give everything to the friendly agent at the exit. After this feat, I tell myself that, really, we are ready for Cirque du Soleil…
As I left, I had a thought for the young man who assisted us at the Athens airport and who dreams of Canada and Montreal as the center of better living. I tell myself that he would probably have been shocked by seeing what we experienced on our return.
Me, I felt very ashamed. My mother and I will get over it, but I’m thinking of all those who, after us, risk going through the same thing and who won’t have the chance to meet a woman with a child in a stroller…
If Greece is doing better than us in this area, then we must take inspiration from it. We must do better for all those whose mobility is a daily issue and certainly a major challenge when traveling.
PS We would like to thank the Air Canada staff, in Athens and on board, who were attentive and impeccable towards us.