Monday, August 9, 1998
Sometimes we need a good samaritan
'Accessibility' can use a helping hand
BY DEBORAH KENDRICK
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Angel and accommodation are related by more than the letter ''A.'' I realized that last week as I stood in the Denver airport - a cacophony of sound, with no discernible word or motion to make some sense of my surroundings.
I was tired, distracted, and at the point where I know myself well enough to know that simplicity is the only plan that succeeds.
It was Friday evening. I would arrive at the hotel in time for the company banquet, I thought, go to the room to complete my speech, and prepare for the presentation that brought me here among strangers.
Carry everything on the plane and everything off is my first rule for airport simplicity. But that didn't work.
Nearly missing my flight due to last minute procrastination, I was told that one bag had to be checked as I boarded. Three things are one too many, and I was carrying a laptop and bag of books.
No problem, I told myself, until I walked off the plane and there was no bag to greet me. Now only one hour remained until the start of the banquet.
Ineffective escort
''I'll need an escort,'' I tell the flight attendant, which means ''I don't know where the baggage claim area is, and want someone to go there with me.''
The escort arrived pushing a wheelchair. She was so focused on her wheelchair, in fact, that sometimes she forgot to give me verbal directions. I would lose her in the crowd, listen, reconnect. The wheelchair rider never spoke.
At baggage claim, my ''escort'' asked three times the color of my bag, its description, my name. The final straw came when I put my hand on the chair gently, deciding to attempt conversation with its silent passenger - and discovered that the chair she pushed so diligently was empty!
Then, there was a voice in my ear asking if I needed help. I didn't, exactly, since the only thing to do seemed to be stand around waiting for my bag to show up.
He stuck around anyway. For nearly four hours he stayed ''just helping a friend,'' as he described it to his wife and kids on the phone.
Waiting with me was the best anyone could have given just then - in its spirit of friendship, company and moral support.
Since the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, we sometimes panic at the sound of words like ''accommodations'' or ''accessibility.''
Mick, as his name turned out to be, was making the massive Denver airport accessible to me with his sight and his words. He provided the accommodation of kindness and friendship, brainstorming solutions to problems created by my lost luggage.
More than luggage missed
I missed the banquet and went to the hotel without my luggage. I also missed the chapters in this scenario labeled ''frustration,'' ''anger'' or ''despair.'' When a new friend is standing by with words of encouragement, it's difficult not to be grateful that it is only a bag of stuff that has been lost.
This good samaritan didn't stop with driving me to the hotel or stopping by a pharmacy. The next morning, I heard from Mick again.
''My wife, Carol, and I have been talking about your problem,'' he explained, when he learned that, no, the bag with my clothes, notes and presentation props had still not been found.
''We've made a few calls, and have found a place that will print the notes from your disk into braille.''
Just in time
I wound up not needing to take my disk across town. The bag arrived 45 minutes before my presentation - with clothes, notes, props and computer power supply all ready and waiting to spring into action.
And while I spoke about accommodations, I thought about celestial behaviors.
Mick was a regular traveling professional with a spouse, two kids and a home in the suburbs. Maybe he was also an angel sent by God.
He was definitely a perfect example of what people with disabilities most often need to be fully included - a voice, a hand, a person with a heart and a bit of common sense.
Deborah Kendrick, a Cincinnati free-lance writer, is a nationally recognized advocate for people with disabilities. Write: Deborah Kendrick, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202; e-mail: 71340.473@compuserve.com.
KENDRICK ARCHIVE
