A Streetcar Called Taraval

1/9/2012 edit: Follow-up post regarding the ACAA and United at this link

I booked a flight on November 1, 2011 to visit family in Texas over the holidays.
When I originally booked the flight, I called the very next day to ask for accessible seating, as I have a physical disability. I have a partial amputation to my right foot following a highly traumatic motorcycle wreck. I walk with a cane every day and have multiple doctors who can confirm that I have a legitimate, recognized disability, and as such protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act.

I called Continental to inquire about accessible seating. On 11/2. The phone agent told me there was no way to put me in a seat that is accessible.
I called again 11/3. I was told again, there was no accessible seating.
I called 11/10. I was told I could upgrade to “Economy plus” for $40. I stressed that I was asking due to special needs in regards to a disability. I also stressed that Airplanes must be ADA compliant and that I was not going to pay what amounted to a $40 fee for being disabled.
I tried again on 11/12 and the phone operator said the seats were locked and that I must ask the gate agent when I arrive at the airport. She said there was none available, which I understood to mean the plane was ADA compliant but the seats weren’t available to change.

So, I wait until I’m at the gate—I have a two-hour layover at DFW. I ask the gate agent for designated, accessible seating and she says there is absolutely no accessible seating on the aircraft. I asked again, stressing that I have a painful physical disability which causes significant mobility impairment; that I must be able to move my legs frequently to avoid increased pain, discomfort and swelling. I told her that a phone operator said that the plane was ADA compliant. She said she would upgrade me to “economy plus” and she printed me a new boarding pass with the seat 8D.

Note: If I had been told there was no accessible seating on the plane the first time I called, I would have changed my ticket that day.

I boarded the aircraft and it’s a window seat. There’s a person sitting in the aisle seat. I had absolutely no room at my feet or in front of me to be able to arrange my legs in a not-painful position. I got up once during my flight, having to crawl over the other seat, banging my head and knee very hard on the lights and arm rest respectively, tripping into the aisle and further hurting my already-swelling ankle. I returned to my seat and tried to fold into the seat again. 2 hours into my 3-ish hour flight, I am fighting tears the pain hurts so bad. I made notes in my pain journal with intensity, pain characteristic and timestamp. I was effectively trapped in my seat for the duration of the flight, in white-hot incandescent pain.

I requested a flight attendant call for a wheelchair at the gate for me, which he confirmed he did.

Finally we landed at SFO. I attempt to stand, my leg crumples under my own weight. 3/4 of the plane disboards before I am able to stand up under my own power. I wince down the narrow aisle and wait in the motorized walkway, where my wheelchair should be waiting. A baggage handler instructs me to sit in a seat in the end of the walkway to wait for it.
A queue lined up near the front of the walkway to get the baggage they had to check at the gate. It almost feels like I’m on display for these people to gawk at. It’s humiliating. I try to hide my swollen eyes and tear-streaked face behind my violin case.
Twenty minutes goes by. I’m sitting in the cold, non-climate controlled walkway at 9pm in San Francisco—it’s damp-cold, another pain trigger. Still no wheelchair. The baggage handler is gone. All the flight attendants are gone. All the passengers are gone. They forgot about me.
Eventually the Captain and Co-Pilot of the plane come out of the cockpit, stretching their legs and chatting. The Captain notices me sitting in the walkway, tears of pain and frustration streaming down my face. After explaining what was happening, he ran inside the airport and flagged down a wheelchair.

Landing at SFO doesn’t mean I’m home. I still had at least an hour and a half of transit to ride to reach home — I have to ride BART to Muni to go to the Sunset in The City proper. I limped home at about 11pm. I documented the additional swelling, the discoloration that was present in part of my skin graft, and a comparison of my right injured leg to my left uninjured leg. I had severe stabbing pain, about a 7/10 in my ankle, forefoot, knee and hip, and sharp pinched pain along my thigh and calf.
I had to take a half day at work the next day. I also took the following thursday off—I was waiting for a FedEx delivery, but had my leg elevated and wrapped in a heating pad.

I emailed this to Continental and I do not feel like they are taking me seriously. I got some automated email response with a $150 voucher.

Cool, I get to go ¼ of the way to New York…

My safe carriage was not provided by the company. I tried multiple times to prevent this EXACT situation.
I haven’t even gotten a phone call from Continental/United. I’m worried the fact it was a Continental flight provided by United, run by Skywest, that they will all shirk responsibility for what happened to me between DFW and SFO.
How many other people with disabilities are going through this?

This experience served to raise my already-high anxiety surrounding air travel. I cannot visit my family without flying. I want guarantees that this will not happen to me again, not a “shut up and take this coupon.” Air travel shouldn’t be humiliating, degrading, and dehumanizing.

I should also add, this was the flight back home where at IAH, the TSA refused to let me opt out of the scanner. I heard an agent say “red hair” and “tattoo” and they shuffled me in as I was trying to walk to the metal detector. When I said that the pornoscanner was degrading, my hands and feet were swabbed for bomb residue and I was held back until the results developed. The TSA agent commented on my orthopedic ankle wrap, felt around my foot, touching—squeezing my amputation stump. My mobility aid, violin, and luggage were just sitting out in the open for anyone to pinch. I was not given my cane even after asking for it.