By Deborah Kendrick

(Editor’s Note: The following article is reprinted from Que Pasa, the NFB of New Mexico newsletter. It originally appeared in the Columbus Dispatch on February 20, 2011. Deborah Kendrick is a blind Cincinnati, Ohio writer and advocate for people with disabilities, and has served as secretary of the NFB of Ohio and coordinator of Ohio's mentoring program.)

Last week, the Department of Transportation fined Delta Airlines $2 million for violating rules regarding the treatment of passengers with disabilities.

All public conversation regarding the situation, including Delta's own blog, refers to the dignified and appropriate handling of people who use wheelchairs and their mobility equipment. I have friends who use wheelchairs, and any measure that can enhance their travel experience is one I applaud. But there are plenty of disabilities that don't involve wheelchairs at all, and that news flash isn't always reaching the airline radar screens.

When I fly, I ask at the gate for a "Meet and assist" request to be entered into the computer for me. What I need, I explain each time, is a person who knows the route from gate to exit, gate to baggage claim, Gate A to Gate B if making connections. That's it. A person who knows the way and who won't mind my walking alongside them.

Before I go any further, I should also explain that not every person who is blind or visually impaired will need or want this kind of assistance. Some visually impaired people who fly frequently learn the layout of particular airports and, thus, can travel within them independently. If I had a job at the airport, was traveling out of or into the same airport every week, or frequented an airport location consistently for any other reason, that's exactly what I would do. But as a person who travels about a dozen times a year, out of and into different airports, using my available mental real estate for developing maps of said airports is a low priority. The most efficient method for me is simply to follow someone who knows the way and get where I want to go.

Requesting this assistance from airline staff gets successful results about 50 percent of the time. Knowing that, I will often simply get off the plane and ask a fellow passenger who has initiated friendliness, "Could I follow you to baggage claim?” Or wherever.

Last year, I was traveling with a group in which one person needed a wheelchair. It struck me at the time as laudable that the assistant with the wheelchair was right there on the jet way when we deplaned.

Another time, while traveling alone and having made the above request, it struck me as odd that, as I came off the plane, a guy standing there asked, "Are you the person who requested the wheelchair?”

When I explained that I wasn't but that I did indeed need someone to follow to the ground transportation area, he turned his back on me, waiting for the passenger with the "real" disability to arrive.

Last week, I was flying from Dayton to Tampa with a 40-minute connection in Atlanta. When I made my usual request at the gate in Dayton, the agent recognized me and warned, "I'll put it in the computer, but know that since you don't need a wheelchair, it might not work.”

That time it did, but coming back to Ohio, I was even more nervous when the Atlanta connection was only 30 minutes.

When I boarded the first plane, the woman beside me struck up a conversation. I quickly learned that she was making the same connection. I asked if I could follow her to the gate.

No problem. She had requested a wheelchair, she said, and they are "always right there.” She was a lovely woman and able to walk, but is in the habit of requesting wheelchair assistance because her knee sometimes "pops" out.

Sure enough, a guy with a golf cart was right there when we came off the plane — and drove us all of three gates away!

There's something to this, I thought, while recognizing the irony that I could have walked it in the same amount of time but might well have been waiting for someone to give me the right direction had I not been with this fellow wheelchair-requesting passenger.

When we arrived in Dayton, her prediction was again fulfilled. Wheelchair guy was right there when we deplaned, and by following him, I was among the first to arrive at the baggage claim.

When he heard my puzzlement over the different handling of our two requests, he demurred, "Oh, you must have asked for a 'Meet and assist'. Sometimes, if there's no wheelchair involved, those requests don't even go out.”

Hmmmm.

 His advice matched that of my newfound friend from the airplane: Just request a wheelchair and take a ride.

Maybe it's a solution, but it's the wrong one.

I can walk. My disability is that I can't see the signage guiding me back to civilization. Requesting a wheelchair would be ridiculous.

More important, if I adopt that easy solution, I'm feeding the clear misconception behind the practice.

Airline and airport training could incorporate common sense. Simple message: There are some 50 million Americans who might fly with you who have disabilities. Some of them will request assistance and some won't. The assistance needed is as varied as the number of passengers themselves. Some will need wheelchairs. Some won't. Any accommodation you provide enhances customer satisfaction and keeps them coming back.