How I convinced my Dad to get assistance at the airport.

I was raised with all of to have all of the audacity and privilege of a middle-class white man.   

This realization struck me several months ago while my wife and I were hanging out, watching tv, and scrolling mindlessly on our phones.   For a couple of years, I have been joking that I have some very "boomery" tendencies despite my GenX (or xennial if you have to get picky about it - they're all dumb anyway.  She says.  You can't really tell if she said it apathetically or boomery either.  One way is kinda meh and the other way is kinda shaking fist at the world grumpy.    The key take away here is that we all get old, we all shake our fist at people, and we all don't like a whole bunch of stuff.   Just shut up and enjoy yourself for a hot minute, will you?  But I digress.... way far away from the original point.  Which was that I was raised like a man and raised by Silent Gen parents.  But seriously - it's all people getting older and grumpier.  Back to my Dad! 

My Dad was not just my Dad, he was my best friend.  While yes, I did all the girlie stuff.  I did gymnastics, ballet, tap, jazz.  I loved the frou-frou dresses.  I loved color and being colorful.  I loved a good kitten heel before I knew it was a kitten heal.  I wanted to be a fashion designer at one point.   On the other end of the spectrum, I was very much a tomboy that had aspirations of being a pilot one minute and a mad scientist the next.   

I would spend hours every day in the woods behind our house.  My Dad encouraged me to explore, asking me about where I had been today and I would tell him these stories about my adventures and then he would chide me about not getting my homework done.  What my Dad didn't know is that most of the time I had my homework done.  I just misplaced it or more often than not, I would just forget to hand it in, class would start and I'd cram it in my desk.  We found tons of old homework that way.  ADHD Gifted kid.  Or so I'm told. 

Every summer my Dad and I would go camping.  Sometimes my Mom would go, but more often than not it was just him and me, exploring a national or state park, visiting different states, and Civil War battlefields.  When I got older, we would go to Washington DC every summer.  

My Dad taught me to appreciate travel and to keep an eye out for anything that you might find interesting.  You never know when you're going to find a hidden gem.   Hidden gems were easy to find because the majority of our trips were road trips.  To this day I love a good road trip. 

The international trips only had one destination - Panama, where my Mom was from.  The plane trips were some of my favorite trips.  While my Mom would be stressing about traveling and keeping me nice and neat (early 80s, you dressed up to fly) for when we would meet the family later that evening.  My Mom always had activities for me to do on the plane to keep me distracted and by activities, I mean that if I wanted something fun, I had to pack it myself.  It was always academics with my mom.  Math worksheets, writing worksheets, phonics, reading practice.  My Dad would always come through with a win and bring me a little portable game or buy me a new book at the airport.  One time he found me a handheld Super Galaxy Defender!  He even bought me extra batteries because he knew I would use them up on the plane.   

My Dad would point stuff out the window (of course he gave me the window seat) and we would talk about the clouds.  He would keep me busy and distracted the whole trip.   It's been a while since I took a road trip with my Dad.  I really should see if he's up for one.   His last trip really took a lot of him.  

His last trip is what kept me entertained for 7 days, wondering if he would bring me home a new Mommy.  I teased him about the fact that his hotel reservation said "2" on it.  His story: "The hotel won't let you book 1 person in a room, you have to at least have two. "  

If he had played dumb or claimed he bumped it and he knew about it, I would have been more likely to buy that, but whatevs.  If Dad is meeting up with a honey in Spain, more power to him.  I hope I'm that spry at 81.   Hell, I hope I can afford to go to Spain at the age of 81!

During our chats on messenger, my Dad was complaining about the airport in Madrid.  He said it was a giant airport and he felt like he walked miles.  He had originally taken only one bag - a carry-on.  He said that he had to sit down a couple of times and barely made his connecting flight because the initial flight had been delayed.  He made it, though, and the first thing he did was purchase a rolling bag.  I then told him that he should have asked for assistance.  

My Dad is a tough guy.  He doesn't like to ask for help if he doesn't need to.  Especially now that he's in his 80s.  I didn't give him any time to argue.  He generally goes along with whatever scheme I'm planning if I don't give him time to argue.  

I, instantly, changed my tone and got more excited.  I explained how awesome it would be to get off the plane and have a dude waiting for you with a wheelchair.  They could take me to my connecting flight, help me on the plane first, help me off the plane, and get me to baggage claim.  It's the cheap version of traveling like a rich dude!  Exploit that shit, but make sure you tip well!  

My Dad REALLY liked that idea.  Like REALLY REALLY liked that idea.  On his way back from Spain he had a young man pushing him around the Madrid airport.  Apparently, he milked it for all it was worth, too.  Had the kid pushing him from one end of the airport to the other. He had him take him through some of the duty-free stores.  He stopped and bought gum and a new book, the kid patiently waiting.  As they finally headed to the gate he said he was just laughing at the people having to walk the distance.  The kid even took him to grab a bite to eat at one of the restaurants because my Dad hadn't eaten!  My Dad said he gave the kid $50. 

Conversely, when my Dad got to Dallas and the airline delayed his flight three times and he had to book another flight, they didn't want to help with a hotel or anything.  My Dad made the very grumpy guy who helped him navigate Dallas airport for his connecting flight, was quite annoyed because my Dad made him stay with him, going from one terminal to another, back and forth from gate to gate trying to get help.  Thankfully, there was a younger couple in the same predicament as my Dad and they helped as well.  The assistant at Dallas though?  Complained but ultimately stayed 2 hours past when his shift was supposed to end.  Part of me is like good for you, you went above and beyond.  But then part of me says he was complaining the whole time.  In the end, my Dad gave him a tip, another $50.  He said he didn't deserve it and that the guy in Spain, just by having fun with him, showing him all over the airport, deserved a hell of a lot more.  

My Dad, however, has now hit savvy traveler phase.  He was laughing this evening about calling the airline and setting up assistance for getting to his plane.  He is living for it.  He has a plan to try and see how much he can get the person to do for him.  But then he uttered the words that shook me to my core:  I think I'm gonna need a scooter.  

The world isn't ready for that.   Y'all really need to get used to him ordering people around in a wheelchair first.  I suspect that when we get there, that's what we're going to want as opposed to him driving a scooter around.  We're okay so far, but I know that day will come before I know it.  I pray for patience and I thank every day for my family and how supportive they are.  I would not have been able to deal with my Mom without Kacy's help.  I'm forever grateful for her.  

But now.. NO more sad vibes.  We're going to end this on an up note and think about my 81-year-old dad making a kid check out every single store in the Madrid airport.  That really makes me want to take a trip somewhere with my Dad.