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Time travel is a wild experience.

One more time this year, I left my house at 3:30am on a Monday to arrive at my destination 30+ hours later on Monday night. This time I landed in a new state as my final flight out of Chicago finally boarded an hour and a half late so that two hours and one time zone later, I landed in Asheville, North Carolina to be greeted by some loved ones and driven a final two hours to Erwin, Tennessee. Two new states for me. A few new friends which was even more special as I was welcomed into the home of some precious people who let me teach their kids years and years ago.

One of their kids kept in touch enough to ask me to officiate her wedding. She had asked me a year ago, and I was overwhelmed with her kindness to help me make this happen as we worked out costs and accommodations and accessibility. I was also so honoured to be the person to legally say before God and friends that this young couple are now husband and wife. Not gonna lie, getting sparkles and a crown as I was sat under an arch in front of a river in a forest only added to the joy of the event.

For now, let me tell you how loved I am to not only be included as officiant in this wedding and entrusted with the special task of signing the marriage license and sharing a message of hope with the couple and their closest friends. I also had the privilege of spending some time with a few other alumni who were either invited or crashed the wedding to see me. I had a really good laugh with the two kids who go to school in west Tennessee and hopped in a car to drive six hours across the state for a couple hours with me. I’d made sure the bride knew they were coming, and actually the maid of honour was close friends and had thought she’d communicated more clearly a last minute invite to the driver. The driver, however, just asked her younger brother, “You wanna drive six hours to see Ms. Hewett?” There was no knowledge of crashing a wedding when he gave a no hesitation “Yes!” and hopped in the car in his t-shirt and jorts.

This past week was filled with such draining travel and such filling joy with loved ones. All the things. The year of yes, the week of wonder.

The morning after the wedding, I got up early and had a lovely two hour drive back to North Carolina to fly out of the tiny Asheville airport. By the grace of God, that gave me an extra two hours with Lissy as her flight was before mine, and, boy howdy, did I need someone to process the wildest and most inappropriate security check of my life.

Disability sucks.

Buckle up to hear a few things that are a bit unpleasant. I’ve generally had exhausting but decent security travel experiences. I was annoyed in San Francisco this trip when they held me up at the last security from international to domestic and I almost missed my flight because the lady had to have a supervisor watch her do the swab of my braces after she’d felt them up significantly. It was over the top and dumb but doesn’t hold a candle to the woman in Asheville who, while incredibly friendly and kind, took her job to next level un-dignifying of my disabled situation.

For those unaware, since I cannot walk through the x-ray machine, I’m always given a pat down. I turn down the private room to speed up the process, and a female TSA employee gives me an almost identical spiel in every country about how her hands will swipe under my breasts and along my arms and next to my legs and inside my inseam with the back of her hands. I’m used to it and nod along to speed things up. This time, however, the woman also put a hand behind my shoulder to brace me as she pressed hard on my sternum rather than a gentle swipe under my breast. It was unpleasant. Uncomfortable. Unnecessary.

Then she asked if I could stand to have her run my cushion through the scanner. This has never been necessary. This was not something I was comfortable doing do to my long travel day ahead and the energy expenditure required to stand. But because I was able to stand for a few seconds, she had me stand so she could swipe her hands on my butt to swab them. This has never happened in twelve years, four continents, and twenty some countries I’ve flown through. The woman who was pushing me through with the disability assist was offended on my behalf. “Excuse me, why is this necessary? Why are you making her do this?” she asked. The security agent, who, again, was actually pleasant and kind, responded it was her job and she needed to do as much as I was physically able to do. This was an absurd response to me, but my goal is to not make waves with the TSA lest they go on a power trip. Plus I was seven hours early for my flight. But also, I suppose I deserve some measure of dignity.

“Do you blog?” the disability assist woman asked as she pushed me away when I was finally cleared.

“Actually, yes.”

“You should. People need to hear these stories about airports like this.”

Honestly, does this make a difference? I mean, I hope you, my precious reader, will have more empathy for the disabled people travelling around the world, but what difference does this story make?

I think the bigger story is that I’m writing this while sitting on the couch with my best friend of 18 years who flew from Texas to spend a weekend with me. We have life and context that goes way back, and also love and encouragement that goes to the grave and beyond by the grace of God. I got to spend a couple hours wandering around the Garden of the Gods with Shannon, and we saw a doe with twin fawns!

I love that I can still have a full rich life with this amazing woman who loves me so, so much. I love that she was able to find a way to see me in person and share life on life as we just chill watching TV and soaking up the time together.

My life is interesting, but it’s the simple things that mean the most to me. I love that I got to sit next to Lissy for a couple of hours listening to the wind in the trees and crickets in the grass. I love that I got to hug Cassia and Wes in person on their wedding day. I love that I’ll have a spontaneous lunch tomorrow with my friend Debbie who moved from Portland to Denver a few years ago.

Sure the stories about manhandling through TSA should be shared so you know my life is difficult, but also, please remember that I’m a well loved and cared for person who has people who treat me with compassion and dignity. So I guess I’m coming back to that point that my stories should be shared. The TSA lady didn’t speak down to me, but I think she inherently didn’t understand my value and dignity. I was still somehow less than and able to be objectified on some level through security.

When you think of me, I hope you think of my dignity. I’m a whole person.

Let’s hope we can move forward and make a world that changes to be more accessible and respecting of the dignity of all kinds of diverse people. Those with mobility limitations and all kinds of physical or social differences that create barriers. Let’s normalise accessibility; let’s talk about it and make the world more inclusive. Let’s listen to those on the margins and hear what makes them feel excluded, but then let’s do life next to them and make them be included.