Thursday, September 11, 2025 – Day 394

Thursday, September 11, 2025

Good morning from Portland, Maine.

Our day started way too early, with too much luggage and barely enough hands to manage it. At least we had a service drive us to the airport and Mark and Barb were our traveling companions or they would tell you that they were more like Sherpas considering all the luggage they had to help us with. Seriously…it was too much and we would have been screwed without them.

I’ve learned that wheelchair travel through an airport is a very different beast than walking—and it does not suit my personality one bit. Too much waiting. Too little control. Too much sitting still. I may need to pack Valium next time.

That said, the day wasn’t without perks. Flying United, we got dropped at the hidden gem called “accessible check-in.” Who knew that existed? No lines, very helpful staff—until they insisted a UA agent had to push me through security. (Not true, as I later found out.) So began the waiting game. Sitting there while time ticked by, watching our United Club hour evaporate.

Once I had my “pusher,” I then sat at the checkpoint, waiting on a TSA agent to screen me, as traveler after traveler breezed through while I just…waited. Hello, over here, still alive…it’s me in the wheelchair. Can somebody help me? Eventually came a very thorough pat-down—borderline second date. Next time I’m requesting a female agent.

By the time we’d cleared security and arrived at the United Club, this process of getting past security had taken an hour. This is typically a 15 minute painless process.

The United Club, though, restored my sanity. A spicy Bloody Mary in hand, I felt human again. For more than 20 years, that perk has softened the bumps of travel—and yesterday it worked wonders.

At the gate, pre-boarding gave us front-row seats to watch desperate passengers angle for better seats they hadn’t paid for. Some people really have no shame. The gate agent kept smiling; I know I’d be dropping F-bombs.

The flight itself was uneventful, which is exactly what you want. First Class helped—the extra legroom makes my AFOs a little less miserable. A mimosa smoothed things out too.

Arriving in Portland, we stayed seated until everyone else deplaned, knowing the gate checked wheelchair would be slow to reappear. More waiting at baggage claim, more at the rental counter. By the time we wrangled our mountain of luggage into a giant Ford Expedition, Cindy was behind the wheel of what looked more like a tank. This whole process burned up another 90 minutes.

Immediately after checking in the hotel and parking the beast of a vehicle we called an Uber and headed straight to Luke’s Lobster for lobster rolls on the pier. Eating by the water, boats bobbing all around us—it felt like another country. The rolls were tasty, if not life-changing, but the setting made it special. After an hour, though, I was toast (ha ha, the mere mention of “toast” reminds me of my conversation with the barber 💈 on Tuesday.)

Back at the hotel and getting me back to the room the others went out to a brewery. It was only 6:30 pm, way too early to end the night. We had just arrived. I didn’t mind staying behind, perfectly content to read, nap, and recharge. Sometimes the best part of a long travel day is finally stopping.

This morning I feel rested and ready for a slower pace—just a two-hour ride to Sunday River Resort and plenty of free time before tonight’s gathering at Nicole’s parents’ home.

Have a great Thursday.

Love you guys!❤️