Air Travel Can Be a Challenge for Wheelchair Users—but It Doesn’t Have to Be

This article is part of Unpacked, a series that delves into key issues surrounding responsible travel. Discover more columns on the Unpacked homepage—and don’t forget to subscribe to the podcast.

I always prepare myself for the journey from the curb to my airline seat, no matter how busy the airport or how long the flight. With parents who met in the travel industry and a multicultural family spread around the globe, it’s not the overall environment that makes me anxious—in fact, I’ve known how to pack efficiently and navigate security lines since I was a child.

My anxiety stems from living with cerebral palsy, which primarily affects my legs. Since I can’t walk long distances without experiencing pain, I rely on wheelchairs to navigate airports more easily. In these situations, my disability becomes something that must be managed by various strangers, and I face challenges that are often difficult to predict.

Firstly, the waiting area for wheelchair assistance is typically located several paces away from the ticket counter. Attendants who assist passengers follow a first-come, first-served system, but many attendants across the country have informed me that they are frequently understaffed and underpaid by a contracted company that is usually distinct from the airlines and airports they support. This often leads to scenarios where there are too many passengers needing assistance and too few staff available to help.

My fellow disabled travelers and I often share our departure times, sacrificing our spots in line for those whose flights are earlier. However, this relies on having someone overseeing the waiting area, which isn’t always the case. If there’s no one to keep track of our names, ticket numbers, and gates—and relay that information to the attendants throughout the terminals—we risk being forgotten. Sometimes, it’s just a few minutes of light conversation with the staff, but there are times when I wait nearly half an hour for assistance. On the rare occasion that my wait exceeds an hour, which has happened to me in cities like Portland, Minneapolis, San Francisco, and New York City, I have to decide whether to try walking to avoid missing my flight, though this poses its own injury risks.

If other disabled passengers and I manage to get attention but face a shortage of attendants compared to flight schedules, they often have to transport two or three of us at once, which can feel like a frantic juggling act. Even when I check in well ahead of my boarding time, it remains unclear how long it will take to reach the security checkpoint.

Once I reach security, the next challenge is enduring the curious stares as I’m allowed to go to the front of the lines in my wheelchair (this occurs again when I’m wheeled ahead of other passengers waiting to board and again when disembarking). It often feels like I’m under scrutiny from all sides, where my movements through a metal detector or how I present my boarding pass from a wheelchair are examined as closely as the items being screened in the X-ray machines. I frequently want to express, “These are the rules, and I dislike waiting just as much!” but I never seem to find the words.

Once I settle into my seat, I can finally unwind. If needed, I can use the restroom or retrieve something from the overhead bin. For the most part, I blend in with the other passengers, sipping a drink and enjoying a few peanuts while getting ready for a nap.

However, these movements aren’t always feasible for full-time wheelchair users, especially regarding restroom access, leading to a completely different set of challenges. These individuals remain seated for the entirety of the flight, coping with any discomfort that may arise from it. Moreover, their wheelchairs are not just optional; they are vital extensions of their bodies—personalized, intimate, and often costly items that provide the same access to the world as an airplane. Therefore, when passengers are separated from their wheelchairs and later discover that they’ve been damaged in transit, it can have devastating consequences for their well-being.

I often hesitate to share these shared experiences from the disabled community, including those that aren’t personally mine, because I recognize the privileges associated with air travel. However, I want to affirm two realities simultaneously: Flying is a luxury, yet it often comes with a higher emotional and physical toll for disabled individuals. Our disabilities are either marginalized and pushed aside or exaggerated to the point of being perceived as a nuisance to nondisabled travelers. This can feel exhausting, demeaning, and intimidating. A nondisabled friend who once accompanied me at the airport remarked that the experience felt like “entering a different world.”

This doesn’t have to remain the status quo. In 2018, the American Institutes for Research revealed that the nearly 20 million working-age disabled adults in the U.S. possess around $490 billion in discretionary spending, which could be used for traveling across oceans or at least to various states. From a purely business standpoint, airlines should contemplate the implications of catering more thoughtfully to this substantial group of Americans.

One potential solution could be lowering ticket desk heights to facilitate conversations for wheelchair users. Additionally, establishing a maximum wait time for security assistance could significantly enhance the experience. A more ambitious approach, which is technically feasible, would involve designing future airline fleets that allow full-time wheelchair users to remain in their chairs throughout the flight, along with providing wider in-flight bathrooms for greater mobility.

On a human level, disabled individuals should have the autonomy to decide how they want to present this complex aspect of their lives in public. While ADA security accommodations exist, it may be beneficial to create a specific line and train agents adequately to reduce the feeling of being a disruption—similar to requesting that other passengers refrain from boarding until all wheelchair users have been seated.

Airlines should employ individuals with various disabilities to help devise effective solutions, as they have firsthand experience of how to be treated with dignity. Additionally, nondisabled travelers who believe that airline access is a civil right can actively advocate for this cause. While ground transportation options like trains and subways are mandated to provide accommodations under the Americans With Disabilities Act established in 1990, air travel regulations, though introduced in 1986, remain inadequate. Last year, Congress proposed an amendment to enforce necessary changes, but it has yet to progress beyond the initial introduction phase. Contacting your representative to emphasize its significance could help build momentum.

While progress is being made, if you see a disabled traveler in need of assistance, consider asking them if they would like help before stepping in. Disabled individuals should integrate more fluidly into the process of traveling from one location to another. Until significant changes are implemented, every act of kindness and cooperation can make a meaningful difference.

Having taken hundreds of flights throughout my life, I look forward to many more. While I’m airborne and suspended in my seat, I still strive to appreciate the beauty visible amid the chaos of airports. I can easily become mesmerized by how clouds billow in fluffy formations above the ocean or how lush fields resemble carefully crafted quilts. I’ll always marvel at the sights of man-made marvels like the Golden Gate Bridge or the breathtaking expanse of the Grand Canyon from above, as if they could neatly fit on the tray in front of me. Though the journey from ground to air isn’t enjoyable for many, it shouldn’t feel as daunting as it often does for disabled travelers. Perhaps one day, it will feel as serene as cruising at altitude, where everyone can enjoy a smooth flight.