Hawaii or bust: Navigating airports with a broken leg

I had long planned and booked a trip with three good friends, so I was not going to let a little broken leg ruin my vacation last summer to Hawaii’s Big Island and Maui. At least not after my orthopedic specialist gave me the OK to fly.

But I was a bit apprehensive about how I could manage the journey when I could not walk without crutches. I wasn’t sure there would be facilities for mobility-impaired people. Would the trip prove too difficult for my friends and me? Would I still have friends afterward?

I am happy to report that my fears were unfounded, and I learned several things about disabled travel, especially the importance of wheels, handicapped parking spaces, upper arm strength and easy access.

To reassure myself, I phoned both of the hotels included in our package to make sure they had wheelchairs. The Big Island’s Hapuna Beach Prince and Maui’s Ritz-Carlton said they had several on hand; each volunteered to tag a chair for the dates of my stay.

Next, I called United Airlines to report my temporarily disabled status. Because I was in a clunky, full-leg immobilizing brace, I didn’t know if the airline could or would accommodate me, but, to my delight, it did. Although the flight was sold out, an agent offered to assign me an aisle seat and keep my traveling companion nearby. Then she advised me to request a wheelchair once I arrived at United’s curbside check-in because I could not do that on the phone.

From the moment we arrived at LAX’s United terminal, things looked good to go. Almost immediately after I requested it, a wheelchair was produced. And a skycap summoned a facilitator for handicapped passengers, who pushed me into the terminal, up the elevators and through security to my gate.

Friendly and helpful, she explained the security procedure and helped me through two screenings. At the second, thorough, professional Transportation Security Administration agents asked me to remove my brace and lace-up sneakers, which were sent through the X-ray machine. I was asked to stand and was patted down by a well-trained female TSA agent, who had donned plastic surgical gloves before searching me.

Then the wheelchair facilitator whisked me toward the boarding gate. She was patient enough to allow a stop at the ladies’ bathroom, wheeling me into the handicapped stall, politely waiting outside, then retrieving me and rolling me to the handicap-level sink.

It was then I felt a heartfelt appreciation for the architects who designed these accessible conveniences and for the people who worked so hard to make them common public features.

At the gate an attendant told my friend and me to wait beside the jet-way doors. The rough tread on the floor was easy to navigate on crutches.

The aisles on the Boeing 757 were wide enough to allow me to get to my seat without trouble. I was able to slide comfortably into my 31D aisle seat by poking my foot under the seat in front of me. There was enough legroom for 5-foot, 6-inch me, but a taller person might have had trouble.

As a safety precaution, the attendants stowed my crutches in an overhead bin. They assured me that if I needed them, all I had to do was ring the attendant button.

They were as good as their word when I needed to visit the bathroom. As I stood outside the bathroom, nearly everyone said they knew someone who had broken something too, and it made me wonder why I hadn’t become an orthopedic surgeon instead of a writer.

After landing at the Big Island’s Kona airport, the flight attendants asked those who required assistance to wait until the other passengers had deplaned. Two elderly women -- one had a walker -- and I made our way onto an elevator-like shuttle, in which we could easily sit, and it lowered us to the tarmac. From there, a nifty golf-cart-like tram whisked us to the open-air baggage carousels. Then the tram driver produced a spiffy wheelchair for me from several nearby, so I was able to sit while my friends retrieved our luggage.

Crutches and breezes

Our inter-island hop to Maui was equally problem-free. Hawaiian Airlines allowed me and my traveling companion to board at the gate reserved for first-class passengers. Again we got on a shuttle that took us to the plane and raised us to the plane door. I walked with crutches to my seat.

On the islands I spent much of my time reading and writing on the lanai, where room service sent up scrumptious salads and the spa delivered a masseuse with relaxing hands. While my compatriots snorkeled, I snoozed, munched and read.

I’m glad I did not cancel my vacation. There is nothing so healing as a chorus of clattering palm fronds, tropical birds and the tumble of waves breaking outside my window.

Adrienne Parks is a writer and adjunct professor of screenwriting at UCLA’s Professional Film Studies Program.