actual airline assistance: and an Emirates Airline unrant

a quintessential English summer: super ms friendly

Here I am in a quintessential fading English summer - the locals are rueing the lack of a summer (as if it were an aberration from the status quo on English summers...) but yours truly is finding it purrrrrfect ms weather: everything lush and green, a sun that peters out after an hour or so in the morning, yes-bring-the-cardy weather by mid-afternoon, threatening possible rain showers by dinner; par exellonce, non? What's not to lerrv?

And yes, the process of getting here proved far less antsy too (thankfully) happily belying my hasty emirates-over-the-phone-rant-.

I decided it could produce no greater good for humankind to raise my hackles at over-educated call centre staff's Pavlovian trained responses of 'helpfulness' so did not ring them again before travelling. Plus a quick glance at my crutch was enough to reassure that it was not going to be a controversial matter whether it would be deemed under the 190cm 'large item' limit for the cabin of an airplane.

At Melbourne Airport, we were quickly swept over to the business/first class checkin where the classy checkin staffer with her stylish hat/veil combo could not have been more helpful or unintrusive. 'Of course' she would check and arrange transfers for me. 'Did I want assistance to the gate now?'

Turned out unasked she quietly thought to and even managed to swing me a better seat with more leg room (and baby free!) for the second leg from Singapore to Dubai - any further forward and it would have been business class.

Singapore sling
At Singapore, assistance proved to be a tad overkill. I was whisked the 20 or so metres from the disembarking gate around to the embarking gate with an hour  and a half or so to then wait while the staff changed over, the plane was re-fuelled and the cabin cleaned. My attendant 'parked' me in a corner, said he'd be back and promptly disappeared.

We were middle of a never-ending night by this stage. The German couple next to me attempted to distract their two young children - more successfully, I can not refrain from adding, than they had achieved over the past 8 hours on the plane. The littlest was particularly fascinated by the airport wheelchair. The adults avoided even incidental smile-we're-al;l-in-this-together eye contact with me, preferring to speak to each other and their children in their native tongue, all that is except for one choice sentence in English from the mother to the father about how it was all very well for single travellers, they didn't know how easy they had it. Hmm. I was a few moments registering that me plonked in the service chair was the only 'single traveller' in the vicinity, surrounded as it turned out by a multitude of parents and small children/babies (the less encumbered dispersed further afield to the shops and caf's in the airport).

Apparently travelling alone with wheelchair assistance looks rather grass is greener to a German sleep deprived mother of two toddlers travelling with her very abled-bodied husband ... who knew??

Dubai derby
At Dubai, the neverending story of a night morphed into a neverending early morning and somewhere between my fourth and fifth airline breakfasts, an officious serious young woman shepherded the motley crew of 'passengers wanting assistance' to a herding room specifically for those needing assistance and their travel companions. There was a token 'shop' set up in one corner selling scarfs and perfume and behind it a self serve coffee machine but otherwise we appeared well quarantined from Dubai airport's megalomania of shopping pavilions on steroids and consequently also quarantined from making offerings token or otherwise to appease the merciless gods of consumerism. Ahh well, no doubt all for our own good.

initial dire prospect at Dubai airport that that grey box to the left would be the only caffeine supply in the disabled holding space

Then just as I started to register the dire consequences this meant for my caffeine imbibing, two staff from an ubiquitous UK chain alighted the Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator of a lift and proceeded to wander among us, politely wondering if anyone fancied a coffee by any chance! No dirham? No problem. Not only were they prepared to accept foreign currencies but they saw nothing odd in me charging a $4 coffee to my credit card. Ahh globalisation privilege indeed.

Dubai airport's Great Glass Elevator in the corral for those requiring assistance

Received and downed in the nick of time, as the aforementioned officious young woman reappeared, to scoot a gaggle of us up the lift (lo and behold there were all the shops - at least I knew for next time) and escorted us onto a mega golf buggy, beeps ago go. I clambered in next to a woman with a particularly fabulous striped hijab. I couldn't refrain from mentioning to her how much I admired her headgear. She muttered a thanks but looked relieved when the buggy driver veered to a sudden halt and told her this was her gate... oh well, wouldn't I have loved to have been able to paparazzi snap her? (I can't help thinking a more optimistic story of Babel's Tower whensoever I pass through Dubai airport.)

Turned out my gate was furthest and while several others had alighted also requiring assistance earlier on, it seemed now I'd been split from the rest of the crowd and the buggy carried me alone. My buggy man turned things up a notch, dare I suggest, showing off his rather dab hand at hurtling along and ducking and weaving potential calamity between the buggy and jet lagged inattentive stray passengers in his path.

 I asked if he and his fellow buggy drivers were ever tempted to dabble in a spot of buggy drag racing perhaps in the wee wee hours down an otherwise deserted concourse?? He didn't answer but I'm sure I detected an extra gleam and glint in his eye as we hurtled to my gate. Ahh secret buggy driver business.

London landing
London (Gatwick) had two buggies awaiting at the gate and these were rapidly filled - wow and there were still a couple more people looking forlorn as we jaunted off - not quite  the cracking pace of the guy in Dubai but still an impressive effort. We were through customs in no time.

Gotta lerv that straight-to-the-front-of-the-queue that the buggy/chair commands. Not so much lerrv for the compulsory pat down/feel up that a wheelchair apparently automatically construes the security staff to enforce, irrespective of protests or any option to walk through the metal detector if only they would let me step out of the wheelchair for a mo'. Oh well, we all know what beggars can't be ... hey?

My formerly pristine green crutch emerged not unscathed - attacked by some unruly overhead luggage somewhere along the way after a grumpy airline steward played dumb that she could've stored it in upright storage for me - but still serviceable. I guess it was in need of acquiring a patina of dents and scratches to get it 'properly' worn in.

:( awwww travel scarsfor the 'Cool Crutch'

 And so popped out landside with crutch and roll-y suitcase all too easily to hand into a fading but super ms-friendly English rose summer.

Thanks Emirates Airline. Ditto Singapore, Dubai and Gatwick airports for some super efficient and impressive service amid what are some mind boggling logistics when it comes to shunting thousands of people around.