My New Home

The three-hour trip to O’Hare passed quickly and soon my dad was trying to figure out the confusion that comes with such a large airport. With excitement building, we pulled up to curbside and it was now time for me to exit the last of my familiar places, the family car.

Being dad, he asked the nearest stranger to assist my brother with lifting me out of the car. Next, we found our way through the maze of the airport to the ticket counter and in a very short time we were escorted to the gate. With a quick “goodbye” to my dad, a flight attendant and my brother carried me from the plane’s door to my seat. I remember his hug, his comment, “see you later,” and he was gone. I was on my own.

Waiting for the plane to take off, minutes turned into an hour. The pilot finally said we were being delayed because of the weather. Shortly after his announcement we were asked to deplane. To my surprise, my brother was there to help me. The temperatures outside had dipped considerably and it was now snowing quite heavily. This time I was placed in an “airport wheelchair” with my knees only inches from my face and wheeled to the next awaiting plane. After going through the lifting and seating process a second time, once again my brother and I said goodbye.

Another long, long wait and the plane finally taxied to the end of the runway for take off. My emotions were running wild and I couldn’t distinguish between fright, anxiety, happiness, sadness, etc. As my body was forced against the back of my seat and the plane accelerated in its take off, I was ready for my new adventure.

Just over three hours later as we approached Sky Harbor Airport, the pilot announced the current temperature was 55 degrees. This was a welcomed bit of news.

After all passengers had deplaned, the flight attendants approached me asking who they should be looking for at the gate to meet me. Expecting my sister and my friend to be there, they went to look and returned saying, “no one is waiting.” My instincts kicked in and I explained how to transfer me to the “isle chair,” (a narrow chair with wheels that fits in the isle of a plane) and then again to an “airport wheelchair” at the gate. I informed the attendants helping me that my wheelchair had been put with my luggage. After assuring me it would be waiting for me at luggage pickup, I requested to be pushed over to the other chairs to wait.

An hour passed and I was still alone. Noticing me, an airport employee approached and asked if I wanted to be pushed to the entrance of the airport. Back then, Sky Harbor Airport had only one terminal where everyone entered and exited. The attendant pushed me over to the only entrance where I again began waiting patiently for my sister and friend to pick me up.

After another hour or so of waiting, an airport employee approached me asking if he could help in any way. “Can I make a phone call for you?” he asked. “I wish you could but right now I don’t have a telephone number,” I responded. “How about calling you a cab?” he replied. “Sorry, but I don’t even have an address,” was my response. He looked a little surprised but quietly resumed his normal duties as I waited and waited.

Finally, a welcoming site; my sister and friend pulled up to the entrance in my van. “Where were you guys?” With a look of worry but yet relief on their faces, I remember one of them saying, “Let’s get in the van and we’ll explain.”

As I learned later, when they called me at home before I left telling me that they had arrived in Phoenix, in reality they were only in Flagstaff. Their plan was to drive the final two hours, unload the van at the apartment we had rented and then drive to the airport to pick me up. After completing the exhausting job of unloading the van in the dark (the electricity had not been turned on) and knowing they had several hours before my arrival, they decided to take a short nap. When they woke and search for a watch to check on the time, shockingly they discovered it was several hours after my time of arrival.

Even though I could do nothing to help myself in this situation but wait and trust that my sister and friend would finally arrive, this story adds to my venture into the unknown--my new life in the southwest, Tempe, Arizona. In making this move, I will always be grateful for the help of two people I loved. Two familiar faces in this “new world” gave me comfort and courage.