Writers enjoy going to new places, meeting new people, seeking out new experiences. Sometimes, they meet up with old friends, longstanding colleagues or relatives they haven’t seen for years. All grist to the mill.
I love travelling – the planning as well as actually taking the train and plane – and talking to fellow travellers. I can sometimes even make the security staff at airports smile. But all this time, I’m fairly assured, have the right things packed and have all my paperwork and passports organised in my little backpack.
You check your hold baggage in (I can’t bear all that fighting and shoving for an overhead locker space.), go to the gate, find your seat, smile at people around you. The feeling of elation when that plane lifts off with a whoosh can’t be beaten.
However… (A ‘but’ in disguise)
What if you fall down the stairs at your departing airport and can hardly move for the pain searing up your leg?
Crouched on all fours, you can only cry out between gasping for breath. Well, that was me at Berlin Airport last Tuesday. Luckily, an airport worker helped to my feet (excruciating pain). I looked back up the stairs. There was no way I could get back up.
Grasping my phone in my now trembling had, I called my writing friend Anna Belfrage with whom I’d spent the previous few days on a trip to Dresden. She was only upstairs looking after our bags while I had nipped down to the loo. Ha! She came down immediately and helped me retrieve one of my walking poles from my luggage. With her help and the walking pole, I struggled back up to the top.
I couldn’t take another step. How in Hades was I going to get home to Poitiers?
We spotted the Berlin Airport assistance point. Anna took my passport and phone with the boarding pass and marched up to the counter to demand help. Within minutes, a wheelchair arrived. We were escorted to bag drop, then taken immediately to security, jumping two queues (sorry!) and driven through the shopping area and directly to the gate even though it hadn’t been formally announced. These airport people know everything!
The assistance man pushing me along was kind, chatty and intrigued by how a Swede (Anna), a dual French/British national (me) had been on a tour to a German city and region (Dresden and Saxony).
On the plane to Paris, the Air France team boarded me first, gave me a drink of water and arranged assistance at the other end, Paris CDG Airport. They helped me to the loo (only three rows away, thank the gods). They were so kind with lots of smiles and concerned questions.
We landed at Paris a couple of hours later and a team of three come up the aisle with the narrowest wheelchair ever.
(I don’t know if it was this brand, but it looked like this)
In the airbridge, they transferred me to proper transit chair and off we went.
Paris CDG airport has the longest corridors of any airport I’ve ever used.
The young woman who pushed me to baggage claim, then down to the railway station inside the airport was charming, friendly and professional. She must also have been very fit. She came with me to the SNCF (French railways) assistance point and when I asked for help on my train to Poitiers, she backed me up. She said she wouldn’t leave me until she was sure I was going to have assistance. She didn’t need to, but she did. I knew it was her job to help and she was paid properly, but I insisted on giving her a decent tip.
Three cool Parisian lads sauntered out from the SNCF office and with one pushing me in yet another wheelchair and another pulling my case, we ambled along to the platform. When my train appeared, they took my case, loaded it on the rack and made sure I had the right seat. All this with friendly smiles. How lucky I am, I thought.
At Poitiers, an SNCF helper had been messaged that I was on the way. He came on the train, produced a wheelchair and took me to the adjoining car park right up to our car where my somewhat worried looking husband was waiting.We drove straight to A&E to get my ankle seen to.
All this was arranged at last minute, of course, but goodness me, these people pulled out all the stops.
When you suddenly become vulnerable, you do feel anxious. However confident you are, and however seasoned a traveller you are, it’s a natural reaction. My dear friend Anna was wonderful; she charged into the fray and set the assistance programme rolling in Berlin. This is what friends do for each other.
But the assistance people in Berlin, Paris and Poitiers didn’t merely help me because it was their job. They were courteous, friendly and reassuring. I felt safe with all of them. They were complete strangers, but their kindness touched my heart.
PS I had broken my ankle and am immobilised now for a few weeks. But that’s another story.
Alison Morton is the author of Roma Nova thrillers – INCEPTIO, CARINA (novella), PERFIDITAS, SUCCESSIO, AURELIA, NEXUS (novella), INSURRECTIO and RETALIO, and ROMA NOVA EXTRA, a collection of short stories. Audiobooks are available for four of the series. Double Identity, a contemporary conspiracy, starts a new series of thrillers. JULIA PRIMA, Roma Nova story set in the late 4th century, starts the Foundation stories. The sequel, EXSILIUM, is now out.
Find out more about Roma Nova, its origins, stories and heroines and taste world the latest contemporary thriller Double Identity… Download ‘Welcome to Alison Morton’s Thriller Worlds’, a FREE eBook, as a thank you gift when you sign up to Alison’s monthly email update. As a result, you’ll be among the first to know about news and book progress before everybody else, and take part in giveaways.
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