Rolling Traveler

There’s still more to tell about Thursday, when I took a long roll around Wroclaw visiting seven of its big tourist attractions, but I decided to save talking about it for Sunday, when I’ll have time to add some photos and links. So, forgive me the out-of-sequence posting as today I’m going to wrap up my trip diary by talking about coming back to Dusseldorf.

9:12 am. There was almost no traffic on the roads this morning, so we made it to the airport in record time. There are only two people ahead of me in line to check in, but there is already a very long line for security. The problem is that there are only two security gates for this departure lounge, but there are four full flights leaving in the next 2 hours, so they tend to get backed up.

My advice is that if you’re flying out of Wroclaw, get to check in and then go straight through security. There’s nothing to do on either side of the gate anyway, and you might as well be where you’re supposed to be.

9:18 am. I’m the first wheelchair user the lady at check-in has ever dealt with, so she doesn’t know what labels to print or who to call. This happens to me a lot, but fortunately there’s always someone nearby who does know the procedure!

9:21 am. I’m in the line for security. There are over 60 people in front of me, but I don’t mind: I have plenty of time.

9:29 am. …but apparently, I won’t have to wait. One of the security officers has spotted me and waved me to the front of the line. Who am I to argue?

9:41 am. In Copernicus Airport in Wroclaw, the security staff do the pat-downs in a separate room off to the side, and it’s the only airport that I’ve been through where this happens. Everywhere else, the pat-down is done right there in full view at the end of the security check point, which can be a little embarrassing when you get a thorough officer who wants to check the waistband of your underwear.

The first time I was flying from Wroclaw and was led off into a side room by two men in military uniforms, I was a little confused, and perhaps even a bit worried, thinking that maybe my out-of-date passport photo looked like someone dodgy, but now I’m used to the procedure. It takes longer, but at least it’s private.

I’m through and now all that’s left is to wait.

9:55 am. Why are all the disabled access restrooms in the world flawed in some way? There’s always something about them that doesn’t quite fit. In this one, the hand dryer is too high up on the wall to reach.

11:30 am. I’m on the plane. They’ve skipped the safety demonstration again. How odd.

12:42 pm. We’ve landed, and everyone else has deplaned. I’m waiting for the wheelchair assistance people. I can see my wheelchair outside on the tarmac. It looks windy out there: I hope they put my brakes on!

12:54 pm. “The flight attendant is very pretty, yes?” says the driver.

“Too young,” says the wheelchair assistance crew member, who’s standing behind me. “And too blonde.”

“I like blonde. She’s very pretty,” the driver reasserts. “What do you think?” He turns to look at me, and for a moment I think I’m in a taxicab in southern Europe, and he’ll continue in a moment with some more graphic remarks.

“I don’t speak German,” I lie, and leave it at that.

1:13 pm. The wheelchair assistance crew member, whose name is Benjamin, and who apparently hopes to propose to his girlfriend on holiday next month, walks me all the way to the train station platform. This is part of the new help guarantee for any passengers needing assistance at European airports. They’ll meet you at the train, bus stop or taxi rank when you’re flying out, and take you all back again on the way home, carrying bags, pushing your chair, or whatever else you might need. Benjamin, who wants to get a new car, a convertible, and who thinks Fortuna Dusseldorf should have won last season, says that a lot of people still don’t realize this is part of the service.

The train won’t be here till 1:33, but Benjamin, who wonders whether Irish women are better drinkers than German women, and who is going to learn how to snowboard this winter, says he’ll wait with me to make sure I don’t have trouble getting on. I certainly won’t be bored waiting.

1:55 pm. Home again. Time to rest.

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