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Cleveland 2012, #5

Although we spent most of our time lounging around Jeanette and Steve’s house, we did venture out on a few excursions.

Watergate Apartments
26241 Lake Shore Blvd, Apt # 2152
Euclid, OH 44132

When we lived on the 21st floor of this apartment building in 1986 it was almost exclusively occupied by white people. Now it is almost exclusively occupied by black people. It looks no better or worse except for normal wear and tear. Why did the tenant demographic change so dramatically? When did this happen? How did this happen? There might be enough material here for a sociologist’s doctoral thesis.

Hartstown Apartments
7155 Hart Street, Apt# E38
Mentor, OH 44060

After having lived in a skyscraper for our first year of marriage, we decided to come back to earth for our second year. But on our recent excursion down memory lane we found that this apartment complex had aged poorly. I don’t think we would have lived there in 1987 if it had looked like this. That’s the bad news. The good news is that our favorite bar, walking distance from these apartments, still looks as inviting as ever. It was called Gatsby’s back in the day. It had a typical indoor bar, but what really distinguished it from other establishments was its outdoor beach volleyball courts. You could enjoy pickup games of volleyball and have drinks delivered to the sideline. How can you beat that?

After we had driven by our old apartment complex and Gatsby’s, Kim pulled up to the intersection of Hart Street and Route 615, came to a complete stop, checked traffic in both directions, and turned left onto this busy road. In doing so, she drove straight through a red light. The traffic light had not been there 25 years ago; it was a stop sign only. This obscure and obsolete piece of information from 1987 was still imprinted in Kim’s brain to the extent that she ignored what her eyes told her in 2012. Crazy, right?

After we merged onto Route 615 (without getting a traffic ticket) we obeyed our GPS and tried to get back on I-90 to return to Jeanette and Steve’s house, but the ramp was closed for repairs. As we considered our options, long dormant maps in our heads started reformulating. We began to remember how to get to the next on-ramp, and the GPS confirmed it for us. We could never have conjured up these mental maps if not for the visual reminders we saw out of our van windows. Once the memories started coming back, they flowed. “I think the Great Lakes Mall is up ahead on the right.” This phenomenon, and the similar stop light phenomena from Route 615, would make for a solid doctoral thesis in neurobiology.

Dave and Dawn’s House
Mantua, OH

Back in January when we started to toss around the idea of getting together this summer, Dave and Dawn’s oldest daughter Jessica wrote the first of many secret emails to the rest of us indicating that she would like to have a surprise 25th wedding anniversary party for her parents. She thought it would be wonderful if we could coordinate the party with our visit, and we did just that.

It took a lot of planning to pull off such an elaborate surprise party. On Saturday, all the kids mysteriously decided they wanted to go to a shopping mall near Dave and Dawn’s house. But what they actually did was set up for the party. The job of us old folks was to keep Dave and Dawn occupied in downtown Cleveland and then deliver them home as close to 3:30 in the afternoon is possible.

This was not a straightforward assignment. Each time we suggested to Dave and Dawn that we stop over at their house for visit later in the afternoon (none of us had been there all week) they begged off by saying that the house was not ready for company, and that the house was too far away, etc., etc. Finally, we concocted the idea of visiting a winery near them, after which we would just stop at their house to pick up the kids.

Resigned to this plan, Dave started pecking away on his smart phone to find out if his favorite musician was playing anywhere near Mantua that evening. Maybe we could all go see him. Dave was disappointed when this musician’s website indicated that he was playing a private party in the area, and therefore would not be at any local clubs. Private party indeed!

We delivered Dave and Dawn to their home at 4:00, and they were completely surprised. The kids had rented a huge tent and hired a certain musician- you can guess who. There was an abundance of catered food and drink, and many guests. Speeches were given. Toasts were made. Corn-filled bags were tossed at holes in plywood targets. Friendship, family, and love were celebrated. The party was an unmitigated success.

2012 07 355

This was the last gathering that everyone attended. It was a fitting end to a brilliant vacation. Mark and Carrie and their two daughters flew back to Maine on Sunday. We lingered for one more day and then began the drive home early on Monday.

In my next post I’ll share my final thoughts about our Cleveland vacation.

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Cleveland 2012, #4

Cleveland is a big city, and there is a lot to do. However, we preferred to spend most of our time lounging around with our friends, doing nothing in particular other than eating, drinking, and just being together. And when we do this, the same thing happens every time- the stories start flying.

There’s the one about the trip we took to the Lake Erie Islands when Kim’s bra mysteriously ended up at the top of a flagpole.

There’s a whole collection of stories about Mark’s aptly named boat, “Bubble Butt.”

Then there’s the one about Louie’s wallet. Now that’s a classic.

We inevitably retell the story of Dave and Jim’s dual bachelor party where we rented a Greyhound bus and hit all the gentlemen’s clubs in Cleveland, and not just the classy ones. That always leads into the stories about Steve’s bachelor party and Jeanette’s bachelorette party.

And then we always talk about the tequila body shots that we did on one of our camping trips in the early 1990s. To this day we press Louie on whether he had relations with a girl named Tina that night, and to this day he denies it. Eventually, we expect that he will come clean.

This year I (half) joked that we needed to write all this stuff down and publish it.

Whenever we get together the ribbing is constant but goodhearted. The banter is witty but not callous. Mostly we tease people about the same old stories. When you do something memorable (usually stupid but occasionally heroic) in our group, you own that for the rest of your life. As the children have grown and matured, we’ve been able to share more of these tales with them. It’s fun to see the reaction from a 20-year-old when they learn that their stodgy old parents used to be wild and crazy.

And we go on and on deep into the night, laughing and reminiscing.

At Jeanette and Steve’s house, which was our vacation headquarters, I was made quite comfortable by everyone. I basically had five stations at my disposal:

1. Ground-level near the pool: Except in the early morning and late evening it was usually so hot that I needed a fan blowing right on my face.

Note, the remaining four locations were on the house’s main floor, which was five steps above ground level. I could only access these locations when I was in my iBot, which was most, but not all of the time.

2. Sitting at the kitchen center island: This was my favorite indoor perch. I would elevate in my iBot so that I was at barstool level like everyone else. If I sat there for an hour, I would see everyone at least once, and I was handy to all the food and drink. Central air-conditioning made it comfortable all day long.

3. Sitting in the living room: The only TV shows we watched were the Olympics on the big screen.

4. Screened-in porch: This was a nice location overlooking the pool, with a ceiling fan but no air-conditioning.

5. The laundry room: Jeanette and Steve’s first-floor bathroom was not accessible, but I could get into their laundry room. That space became my personal bathroom. I would use a portable urinal, and Kim would sneak across the hall to the bathroom and empty it for me.

If not for the iBot, this would have been a different sort of vacation. A ramp for the five steps into this house would’ve been a very long ramp indeed, not the kind you can throw together inexpensively.

Our long, lazy days revolved around food. There are several outstanding cooks in the group, and Dave brought his meat smoker. We cooked way too much food at dinner time, and picked away at the leftovers at will. We had food delivered one night to give the chefs a break.

The wine, beer, and margaritas flowed freely, sometimes even before noon. I wouldn’t consider anyone in our group to be a heavy drinker, but we all get in the mood when we’re together.

There were serious moments too, like when Keith talked about how he cheated death after rupturing his aorta, or Louie described his heart attack, or I spoke about my continued MS progression. We got the details of how Dawn was in a serious automobile accident a couple of years ago and was life-flighted to a hospital. I suppose any collection of people our age (either side of 50 years old) has endured their share of health challenges.

All of the kids changed so much over the five-year period since we last got together. It was kind of a caterpillar-butterfly thing. The adults didn’t change so much. It was kind of a butterfly-slowly-losing-its-brilliant-colors thing. The three oldest kids are now an occupational therapist, an architect, and an MBA candidate. Waiting in the wings we have future teachers, engineers, computer scientists, and more. James already has his pilot’s license. But more importantly, we have a wonderful group of quality young people. They are ambitious but also thoughtful, respectful, and fun-loving.

One thing we are quite proud of- there has not been a single divorce in our group, and I would be stunned if there ever is one.

The time we spent doing nothing in particular with our dear friends felt so relaxed and welcoming. But we did venture out on excursions a couple of times, and I’ll tell you about those in my next post.

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Cleveland 2012, #3

IMG_0970There are many issues to consider for wheelchair travelers when they spend time away from home. Other than the traveling itself, the big three are: bathrooms, beds, and stairs.

Because of my iBot, I can eliminate most stair issues, and that’s huge. This leaves bathrooms and beds, the subject of this post.

A quick aside…this is my challenge as a disability blogger. I want to convey to my readers, healthy and disabled alike, how even the simplest things must be reinvented when a wheelchair user goes on the road. But how do I tell this story in an interesting way, so you don’t get bored out of your minds? Here goes…

Since none of my friends in the Cleveland area has a wheelchair accessible home, Kim and I doled out the cash for a hotel room for five nights, near Jeanette and Steve’s house. Amy, Nick, and Zach didn’t need a hotel room, so they stayed at Jeanette and Steve’s. Their house became the de facto vacation headquarters for our extended group. It’s not that everyone stayed there; it’s just this is where we tended to gather for meals and general merriment. Their house is large, centrally located, and has an in-ground pool.

Normally, finding a suitable hotel room is a crapshoot. No matter how clearly the website describes accessibility, no matter what they tell you on the phone, you just never know what you’re really going to get. But I had a secret weapon. Steve (of Jeanette and Steve) and his daughter Lexi scoped out half a dozen hotels for me using criteria that I had given them. They picked a winner.

Stick with me, we’re getting to the good stuff…

Despite this near-perfect set up, it still took a lot of thinking and some trial and error for us to figure out how I could actually use the toilet, sink, and shower, and how I could get into and out of bed. Imagine two parents on Christmas Eve who need to assemble all the children’s toys without any directions. That’s what it’s like for us when we set up a hotel room.

It’s little analogies like this one that keep people coming back for more, right?

We have two pieces of equipment that we attach to any bed that I sleep in. Photos of my home setup are scattered throughout this post. The first piece is installed at the foot of the bed on my side. Its purpose is to keep the blankets off my feet. The weight of the covers is sufficient to keep me from moving my feet around during the night, and that’s not good. The second piece of equipment is installed on my side of the bed, about a foot down from the top of the mattress. I use this portable railing to help me transfer into and out of the bed, and to help me roll from sleeping on my back to sleeping on my side during the middle of the night. So, as soon as we got into the hotel room Kim had to rip the blankets off the bed and install my special equipment. I know that lots of other couples will also rip the blankets off the bed as soon as they get into a hotel room, but this wasn’t that.

It never hurts to throw in some sexual innuendo…

As we set up the bed it became obvious that there was a problem. The only side of the bed that I had access to was the opposite side that I usually sleep on. There is a well-choreographed dance that I perform, a precise sequence of bodily manipulations, which gets me from my wheelchair onto the side of the bed in a sitting position. Kim then lifts my feet up on the bed and I lie back. I had to completely transpose this sequence from my right side to my left side and vice versa. Each part of my body was performing a task that the other part usually did. This would be somewhat challenging for any healthy person, because people are predominantly right-handed or left-handed. But with me these differences are exaggerated because, due to MS, my left side is so much weaker than my right side. The first couple of times I tried to get into and out of bed, it didn’t go well.

After about five attempts, however, I finally figured out a way to transfer from my wheelchair to the bed and back, using this reverse configuration. We decided that we wouldn’t need to switch rooms or sleep with our head where our feet normally go. It’s hard to see the TV that way, after all.

I’m going to switch from the bedroom to the bathroom now, but I promise not to gross you out with any references to, well, bathroom stuff…

In my bathroom at home I have grab bars situated at certain locations around the toilet and the roll-in shower. The hotel bathroom had lots of grab bars as well, but in slightly different arrangements. Again, things didn’t go well the first few tries, but by the end of the week my transfers were going smoothly. That’s how it usually works.

Wheelchair travel like this requires patience, a smidgen of ingenuity, more patience, a dash of creativity, and then a little more patience. I won’t claim that I never get frustrated and let out a string of expletives when I can’t perform the simplest functions, but I will say that I always take a breather, collect myself, and think about a better way to accomplish the task, and then try again.

Thanks for sticking with me. I hope I didn’t put you to sleep. As a reward for your loyalty I’d like to contribute a little something to your checking account. Just send me your account number and any passwords or pins, and I’ll take care of that posthast.

And very soon I’ll get to some of the fun stuff that we did during our vacation.

Click for next post:       Cleveland 2012, #4
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Cleveland 2012, #2

All of the offspring from our group of Cleveland friends are like cousins to one another. So Zach and Amy, even at 20 and 23 years of age, didn’t hesitate to join us on our trip to Cleveland this summer. In fact, Amy was excited to bring Nick, her longtime boyfriend and our likely future son-in-law, with her to Cleveland for the first time. Here’s a picture of Amy and Nick at a party in Ohio.

It has taken me a while to warm up to Nick. He escorted Amy to an 8th grade dance back in the day, and I considered him to be a bit of a hoodlum at the time. After that dance, Amy and Nick didn’t see much of each other until Amy was in college. They began dating during Christmas break of her freshman year. He treats her wonderfully, and I’ve come to know him as a genuinely good guy.

I’m a bit of a higher education snob. I will admit I was initially displeased that the love of Amy’s life didn’t go to college. But I’m beginning to think Nick may be on to something. He is an electrician, has a good job, and carries no student loan debt. I don’t know how many of my friends have kids with fancy $200,000 degrees from top-notch universities, who are now back living with their parents, painting houses or making burritos for chump change in this depressed job market.

Now that we had committed to a summer vacation in Cleveland, we needed to figure out how to get all five of us from here to there and back again. It was too expensive to fly everyone, so we started planning a road trip. It turned out that I had enough frequent flyer miles remaining from my working days that I could fly one person to Cleveland. Zach was the obvious choice. Lucky him.

2010 12 97 Zach_Sturgeon_SHS11Zach is a second degree black belt, pictured here.

Marriage is teamwork. As such, we all bring different strengths and weaknesses to the table. I brought an ability to shoot a semi-automatic rifle, the skills to make a living by transforming trees into paper, and a passion for tracking every aspect of our lives on Excel spreadsheets. Kim brought uncanny shopping acumen, an extraordinary grasp of adolescent minds that manifested itself in a career as a middle school guidance counselor, and the ability to pack an unimaginable number of items into a very small space.

That last skill came in useful when we were trying to fit everything into our new van for the road trip: two wheelchairs, four people, and all of our luggage. This had to be accomplished in such a way that I could easily get in and out of the van, in my wheelchair, at our various pit stops. I couldn’t see how it would possibly work, but Kim made it look easy.

We picked up Amy and Nick at their nearby apartment and set out on the road for Cleveland at 5:30 AM on a Wednesday. I’ve come to learn over the years that the secret to a successful road trip is bladder synchronization. I commend the group for their exceptional effort in this regard. Because we didn’t have to make any stops that the whole group couldn’t “take advantage of,” we reached our destination at about 5:30 PM.

I manage fairly well on long road trips. My Invacare wheelchair reclines and allows me to elevate my feet. I make enough position adjustments throughout the ride that I don’t get stiff and sore. I brought the iBot, too, but it’s not as well suited for long hours of occupation in a vehicle. I don’t go on road trips without my Kindle, but I probably only read for 2 hours on this drive. I tried to keep Kim company instead. Interstate I-90 across the entire state of New York is one long, boring stretch of highway. Although Amy and Nick offered to take a shift at the wheel, Kim was not enamored of sitting in the back seat, so she drove straight through.

Here I was, 750 miles from the sanctuary that is my accessible home. I felt slightly exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time alive, engaged, and ready for a good time.

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Cleveland 2012, #1

Cleveland Skyline
Cleveland Skyline (Photo credit: digipixguy)

Kim and I just returned from a five night vacation near Cleveland, Ohio. Cleveland? Ya, that’s right.

In order to explain, let me take you back to 1986. That was the year I graduated from college. Most chemical engineers at the University of Maine were being groomed for positions in the pulp and paper industry. I didn’t want to work in no stinkin’ mill, so I decided to take a high tech job with a company called Bailey Controls in Wickliffe, Ohio.

I started my new job in May of 1986, but flew home in July to marry Kim. After tearful goodbyes with both of our families and all of our friends, we began our marriage in a 21st story apartment in Euclid, Ohio, on the shore of Lake Erie. Before the interview process began we didn’t know a single person in Ohio, and neither of us had ever visited the Buckeye State.

That move was daring for a couple of rednecks from Lincoln, Maine, where the tallest building was three stories high, and everyone was one shade or another of white. But we were adventurous and wanted to escape Maine for a while. It turned out to be an excellent decision. I recommend that all young couples consider separating themselves from friends and family when beginning a life together. In this way you have no choice but to rely upon and trust one another. That experience forms the foundation for a strong and lasting relationship (or allows an ill-advised relationship to crumble more quickly, I suppose).

1986 085 Mitch Bailey controlsIt was our good fortune that in the years around 1986 Bailey Controls hired dozens of young engineers and technicians. The social atmosphere, therefore, was as exhilarating as college, but even better because we had some disposable income. Kim and I became devoted friends with a core group of 11 people, five couples plus Louie. Our extended group varied between 8 and 20 people on any given party night, which generally consisted of Thursday through Sunday. We also enjoyed intramural football, bowling leagues, ski trips, and pickup softball games.

Although we stayed only two years in Cleveland before returning East (I was to spend the next 12 years working in stinkin’ paper mills), we have remained close friends with our core group, having met up on 12 occasions in the last 25 years – sometimes in Cleveland, sometimes in Maine, and sometimes in between. Mark and Carrie actually ended up settling in Maine in the early 1990’s and have lived here ever since.

Due to our collective penchant for procreation, our core group of 11 swelled to 22 over the years. That made for some logistically challenging reunions, but we always managed. Now, as the children leave their nests, I expect our gatherings will become a little smaller once again.

This year it was time for the gang to meet up in Cleveland. Back in January when people started discussing this possibility, I was not at all confident that a road trip to Cleveland made sense for me. We already had one big vacation planned for 2012, our trip to the Bahamas, and I just wasn’t sure I would be up for another one. Eventually, though, in May we committed to the trip and everyone finalized their plans for late July.

1986w 740It took lots of planning, teamwork, and a heroic effort by Kim, but we pulled off the vacation and had a great time. It’s fascinating how we can go years without seeing one another, yet it only takes only seconds to feel wholly at ease with our dear friends. I hope all of you are lucky enough to have such strong relationships with your distant friends.

In the next few posts I’ll share some stories from our vacation.

Click for next post:  Cleveland 2012, #2

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Bahamas 2012, #9: Final Thoughts

I’ve received a lot of questions from readers, so I’ll format this final vacation post as a Q and A:


Mitch, would you go this same vacation again?

It depends. If I maintain my current level of functionality, which is unlikely, then I might consider returning to Sandals Royal Bahamian in the future. I can’t recommend this resort to other handicapped people, but because I spent time there I would know exactly what I was getting myself into.

Christina, our liaison in the guest services department at Sandals, recommends three other resorts that have more legitimate wheelchair accessibility. I can’t personally vouch for these resorts, but if I ever again consider an all-inclusive Caribbean vacation, I’ll research them:

Mitch, are you really as sexy as you appear in these photos?

Yes, yes I am. Although Kim has let herself go a little bit at her advanced age, I, on the other hand, maintain my perfect physique despite the fact that I get absolutely no exercise, at all, ever. Kim is a very lucky girl.


Mitch, should I go on vacation to Sandals Royal Bahamian?

If you are a healthy person who likes some excitement, but places a higher value on luxury, food, drink, relaxation, and scenery then I think you would be very happy at Sandals.

If you’re a healthy person who likes big crowds; shiny, new buildings; wet T-shirt contests; or big name entertainment; then you might try some other type of vacation, like Vegas.

If you are a disabled person you need to carefully determine what your needs are and whether they will be met. Work all these details out with Sandals or any other resort before you book your vacation. Ask for pictures of the room, including the bathroom. Ask for guarantees in writing. Even then, when you travel remain flexible and try not to allow setbacks to ruin your vacation. If, in order to have an enjoyable vacation, you need everything to work perfectly then you are almost certainly going to be disappointed.


Mitch, are you really as humble and self-effacing as you seem in your blog posts?

Yes. In fact, I wrote the book on humble. And when you look up self-effacing on Wikipedia there is a picture of me. Does that answer your question?

Mitch, what is it like to go on a vacation in your iBot?

My iBot draws a lot of attention in my own community, but it seems to attract even more attention when I’m on vacation. I’m an introvert by nature, so the iBot becomes my own personal icebreaker. At long last, I’ve become the cool kid at the party. The iBot acts as my social lubricant, kind of the equivalent to having a couple of drinks under my belt.

Because I am generally upbeat, positive, and appear to be having fun on my iBot vacations, I think I’ve become a half decent ambassador for the disabled cause. I elaborated on this observation in a previous post.

As you may or may not know, the iBot is no longer being manufactured or sold, and in essence has less than two years life left in it. On January 1, 2014, service and parts replacement for the iBot will no longer be available. Although the iBot is relatively low maintenance, it is such a complex machine that most iBots will wind up on the scrap heap within the first year after support is discontinued.

If you’d like to know what you can do to help resurrect the iBot, click here.


Mitch, is there anyone you’d like to thank for this vacation?

Where do I begin?

First, I’d like to thank the readers of this blog for allowing me to share my story with you. I’m still amazed that so many people take an interest in what I write.

I’d also like to thank Jeannie at Snail’s Pace Travel for all her hard work in putting together this vacation for us. Jeannie specializes in cruises for disabled people, but is now trying to branch out into resort vacations for disabled people as well. Jeannie is a hard worker, very responsive, and really knows the travel business.

I’d like to thank the local staff and management at Sandals Royal Bahamian for their outstanding customer service. It’s not their fault that the room was poorly designed in terms of accessibility, but they did everything in their power to make up for this shortcoming. I’ve never experienced a quality of customer service better than what I did at Sandals during this vacation.

I’m thankful that my parents were so hard-working and thrifty as to have built a modest nest egg to leave for my brothers and me. Without that inheritance, we probably would’ve been governed by our genetic predisposition toward frugality and not parted with the money for such a lavish vacation.

I’d like to thank my brothers, Tom and Andy, and their wives Diane and Karen, for assisting me throughout the week, and for being patient as we navigated so many accessibility issues together. But most importantly, I thank them for being such wonderful travel companions and for helping Kim and I have a memorable experience.

Most of all I need to thank Kim. She worked her butt off all day, every day helping to keep me afloat in so many ways. But she managed to remain energetic and positive all week long, and this great attitude only enhanced everyone’s enjoyment of the vacation, especially mine. I joke around a lot about Kim, but I am the luckiest guy in the world to have her.

Thanks for such an enjoyable vacation, Kim. Heck, thanks for such a wonderful life.

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Bahamas 2012, #8: Getting Home

2011 08 050All good things must come to an end. I had thoroughly enjoyed this vacation. Yet, the thought of returning to my handicapped accessible home and resuming my pathetic little life had its appeal.

The flight from the Bahamas to Baltimore was uneventful. As we were waiting for our plane to depart from Baltimore to Portland, there was a slight delay. Eventually the gate agent announced, “Sturgeon, party of two, please come to the podium.” The assumption was, since I’m a special traveler, that they were looking for Kim and me. But no, it was Andy and Karen who had hit the jackpot. The gate agent informed them that they were being upgraded to first class. We asked why, and he just smiled and didn’t really give an answer. More on that later…

Andy then thought to ask the agent, “Can you also upgrade Mitch and Kim?” He tapped a few keys and announced that he could indeed do that. It was our lucky day too. Bring on the comfortable seats, expanded snack selection, and free drinks.

But wait. Whenever you’re preparing to board a plane in a power wheelchair they always ask about the batteries. I’ve flown with the iBot many times, and it has always sufficed for me to describe the batteries as “internal, dry cell type, that cannot be removed.” This was unacceptable, however, for one of the airline employees near the gate in Baltimore. We overheard him talking on the phone with his manager and discussing whether they were going to allow me to get on the plane or not.

batswitch22Afterward, the agent came over and declared that he needed to see a positive disconnection of the battery. I compared my iBot battery to a cell phone battery. “There are no wires to disconnect,” I reiterated, with dwindling patience.

I reminded him that I would be removing my joystick controller, and that the wheelchair could not operate without it. He asked, “Would you consider the controller to be a positive disconnection of the battery?” As an engineer and a decent human being, I was tempted to explain to him that because the power feed did not run through the controller it was not technically a positive disconnection, but mama didn’t raise no dummy. I responded with authority, “Yes, that is a positive disconnection of the battery.” I gave him what he needed, and I was cleared to board.

But the gate delays and general confusion continued for a while longer, with employees briskly walking up and down the jetway and speaking with invisible bosses on radios and cell phones. I was no longer the problem, but what was? Eventually, we were allowed to board. I learned that being in the front row of first-class is by far the easiest possible transfer. That’s the ticket, if I can only afford it.

The four of us felt at home in first class, as if this were the only way we ever flew. Of course we fulfilled the obligation of our heightened social status by conveying an air of superiority toward the proletariat, as they shuffled by us on their dreary march to the back of the plane. How sad to be them.

Eventually, we solved the mystery of why we were in first class at all. Kim overheard the flight attendants talking about how a strange odor had been detected on the plane in Baltimore, and how this was apparently the cause of all of our delays there. Undoubtedly, said odor had been emanating from the seats that Andy and Karen were originally assigned to, hence the upgrade to first class. From where we were now sitting on this flight, however, everything smelled like roses.

Only one more strange thing happened. When we pulled up to the gate in Portland, with me already at the very front of the plane, the flight attendant asked, “The aisle chair is here already. Do you want to get off first?” I appreciated the gesture, but this was just a very odd invitation.

1264126360lqWL47I always allow everyone to get off the plane before I do, not only because I have to wait for the aisle chair, but also because I don’t want to have 100+ people held up while I execute my elaborate transfers. Because it takes so long for my iBot to be brought up from the luggage compartment, even if I were to get off the plane first I would only sit in the jetway while everyone has to walk around me.

So that was an easy question to answer. “No thank you. I’ll wait.”

After getting off the plane and transferring to the iBot, we went downstairs and picked up our luggage and my spare wheelchair. Andy retrieved the van from the parking garage and met us outside of baggage claim. We drove home just before midnight in a mixture of light rain and snow. Welcome home, indeed.

In my next post, I’ll give my final thoughts on this great adventure.

Click for next post: Bahamas 2012, #9: Final Thoughts

Click for previous post: Bahamas 2012, #7: Taking the iBot to the Bahamas

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Bahamas 2012, #7: Taking the iBot to the Bahamas

I put together a short video showing how the iBot performed in the Bahamas. Check back in the coming days for my last two posts about our wonderful vacation. Enjoy.

Click for next post: Bahamas 2012, #8: Getting Home

Click for previous post: Bahamas 2012, #6: More Stuff We Did

Here are my other iBot videos:

Taking the iBot to the Beach

Taking the iBot to Two Lights State Park

Taking the iBot to Bar Harbor

Taking the iBot to Bug Light

Taking the iBot to Crotched Mountain
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Bahamas 2012, #6: More Stuff We Did

Activity #3: Visiting Paradise Island

The huge, mega-resort in the Bahamas is called Atlantis. It dominates an island just off Nassau called Paradise Island. For a variety of reasons we avoided vacationing there, not the least of which was the fact that Atlantis allows grubby little kids, whereas Sandals doesn’t. What did we have against other peoples’ snot-nosed brats, these irrational and whiney reminders of our fading youth and imminent descent into obsolescence and irrelevance? Kim, Diane, and Karen are all teachers of one sort or another, and this was their winter break. ’Nuff said?

But, since Atlantis was only about 5 miles away from us, we wanted to spend a few hours taking in this spectacle with our own eyes.

After arriving at Paradise Island, we decided to do a little shopping just outside Atlantis. We were able to negotiate with the local vendors, something that is rare in the United States, and we picked up some nice items. As we strolled (and rolled) from the market to the entrance of Atlantis, we were struck by the opulence of the private yachts lined up at the dock. The picture below is just one example.

Once inside Atlantis, Kim and I looked forward to simply wandering around and seeing everything. We were reminded of the mammoth casino/hotels that we love exploring in Las Vegas. Disappointment struck early, however, when we were not allowed to peruse the beach or other outdoor venues without first buying a ridiculously expensive day pass. So we sat down at the video poker machines and blackjack tables to make Atlantis pay the price for their inhospitable ways. We lost $180.

My brother Tom had never played blackjack, so Andy and I coached him on all the right moves to make at the table. Tom blew through his gambling budget in about 30 minutes. A few years ago I also advised him to sell all of his Apple stock. “That company is on its last legs,” I assured him.

The three hours we spent on Paradise Island were enjoyable, but served to validate our decision to have stayed at Sandals instead of this very busy, very crowded, mega-resort.

Accommodations or adjustments for me:


So how did I get from Sandals to Atlantis in my wheelchair? I checked with the same transportation company that had brought us to our resort from the airport. I asked how much it would cost me to be transported from Sandals to Atlantis and then back again 4 hours later. They said the price would be $100 per hour. Ouch. A round-trip taxi ride, 5 miles each way, for $400? No thank you.

I jumped on the internet (yes we had internet access in our room) and did some research. I found a company that quoted me a price of $72 each way. This was still outrageous, but everything is relative, and we split the $144 cost among the three couples. Having suffered through unreliable wheelchair taxi service in the Caribbean a couple of years earlier, I was nervous about this unknown company. But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be. They showed up on time. The van was in good shape, and the driver was a delight.

Activity #4: Entertainment at Sandals


The nightlife at Sandals would have disappointed most twenty-something party animals, but it worked well for us. There was a piano bar, and we visited there most nights. When a particularly talented player was tickling the ivory, and a large group of fun patrons were singing along, it was a blast. When the pianist/singer was not as dynamic, and the back-up singing crowd was sparse, it was a little more like karaoke night (the fewer the voices the more you can hear the bad ones).

There was a deck near the beach with fire pits and a bar. On most evenings a solo musician played live music for a couple of hours, outside. It was very relaxing and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. One night there was even a chocolate lover’s buffet. I’m proud of the restraint I showed. I devoured mass quantities of luscious chocolate, but stopped short of actually making myself physically ill. I consider that a significant accomplishment, given the temptation (and my past history in similar situations).

There was also a theater that staged a couple of song and dance productions during the week. These shows were not as grand as those on our 4500-passenger cruise ship two years earlier, yet they were charming and well done, and we’re glad we attended.

Another bar that we spent a lot of time at was called Cricketers Pub. It was centrally located, and became our default meeting place during the week. It was a fun, upbeat, Irish pub, which stayed open until 7 am. Below is a shot of Kim and I on their patio.

Accommodations or adjustments for me:


I could access all the bars and restaurants, but sometimes I had to use ramps that were situated in obscure locations. Sandals Royal Bahamian is an older resort (but well maintained and updated), and you can tell that none of the ramps were part of the original design, but were added later. The access to the piano bar was a particularly roundabout one. We had to go all the way to the entrance of the resort, follow a balcony around to the piano bar, move a construction barrier, and slide in the back door. We became adept at that maneuver.

Because I’m in a power wheelchair, steep ramps are not a problem for me. I’m sure many of these ramps did not meet ADA guidelines, however, and would have been difficult for a manual wheelchair user to ascend.

The public bathrooms around the resort were inconsistent. But I soon learned which ones were accessible and which ones were not. That’s also how I work it at home. Many of the old buildings in Portland, Maine, which house the most appealing bars and restaurants, don’t have accessible bathrooms. But, I always know where the nearest one is.

Don’t worry; my goal is not to make a career out of writing about this vacation. I’ll be wrapping it up in the next couple of posts, and then I’ll return to my usual blend of mind-numbing, self-pitying, self-aggrandizing blather that you so adore.


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Bahamas 2012, #5: Stuff We Did

2012 02 381So, what did we do for four full days and two half-days in the Bahamas? First, let me explain what we didn’t do, which is at least as important.

We didn’t do responsibilities, kids, pets, coupon clipping, snow shoveling, stress, guilt, diets, television, rainy days, doctors, lawyers, CEO’s (except that one we met in the Jacuzzi), grocery shopping, vacuuming, arguments, politics, stock markets, mortgages, bills, dentists (other than the one we met from Detroit), driving, changing printer cartridges, or blogging (a new Enjoying the Ride post came out on that Wednesday, but it was pre-loaded).

We didn’t worry about death or taxes. We didn’t vote (except on when to eat dinner), and we didn’t attend any board meetings, workshops, or fundraisers. We barely used our credit cards or wallets, as this was an all-inclusive resort. We didn’t tip the wait staff, bartenders, room cleaners, or empty glass picker-uppers, not because their service was poor, but because this was a non-tipping resort. Perhaps most telling was that we didn’t spend time engaged in that favorite activity of snowbound northerners- daydreaming that we are lying around on a tropical island somewhere.

Now, for a little bit about what we did do.

Activity #1: Eating, eating, and then eating some more

Our days revolved around food. There weren’t a lot of snacks, but there didn’t need to be, because the meals were so satisfying.

2012 02 660Let’s start with breakfast. There were a couple of sitdown options with white tablecloths, and one impressive buffet. We generally didn’t plan to meet for breakfast, although we sometimes bumped into one another. Over the five breakfasts, we had two sit downs and three buffets. I must have pushed the limits of how much bacon can be safely consumed in one week.

There were several sitdown lunch options, and the same buffet restaurant put together a very nice noontime spread. I think we did two sit downs and three buffets.

There was an open hearth pizzeria near the pool, which supplied any kind of pizza by the pie or by the slice. I don’t remember how many slices I consumed. But, in my curious system of food accounting that week, I never considered those slices to offset any part of breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

There were three dinner restaurants that required reservations, and several others that did not. We enjoyed an authentic Italian restaurant one evening. They had an extensive antipasto salad bar and a variety of outstanding entrées. The wine flowed easily. One night we ate at a high-end French restaurant, which was très magnifique. On our last night at the resort we experienced a Japanese hibachi steakhouse and were thoroughly entertained by our personal chef.

The culinary highlight of the week was our comped dinner at Gordon’s on the Pier, the exclusive $140 per couple restaurant. We asked for a wine list and noticed that there were prices beside the selections. Damn. I asked the waiter, a tall, and I suppose handsome, Bahamian named Shannon, if the wine wasn’t complementary. He indicated that the house wines were included. These were just the special wines. Whew, close call. We ordered a complimentary bottle of champagne and then some house wine. After nibbling on bread we moved on to salads, appetizers, entrées (the most popular of which was filet mignon and lobster tail), and finally desserts. One member of our party, who shall remain nameless, even planted not one, but two kisses on the cheek of our waiter, Shannon. We all left a little drunk and very satisfied, some more than others (coughahemKarencough). Sorry, I was just clearing my throat.

Overall, I would rate the food at this resort as excellent. To Sandals credit, the wait staff was absolutely top notch. And you know, as good as the food and service was, one of the best things about dining at an all-inclusive resort is that as soon as we were finished with our meals we didn’t have to wait for the check, figure out how to split the bill among three couples, calculate a tip, and then wait some more for our credit cards to be run. We could simply get up and leave. If I were to start a restaurant somewhere, I would do what I could to streamline that entire process.

Accommodations or adjustments for me:

There were not many accommodations necessary for my dining. Most of the restaurants were very accessible. There was one outdoor lunch spot that required me to negotiate three steps. We dined there twice, and just used the stairclimbing mode in the iBot to get into the restaurant. Gordon’s on the Pier did not have a bathroom, and the nearest bathroom was not wheelchair accessible, so I avoided emptying my bladder even after consuming several glasses of wine. That was a little uncomfortable, but I managed.


Activity #2: Lounging around and doing nothing
2012 02 338
This is an activity at which I excel.

We sat by the pool or the beach, read books (my Kindle was loaded with 3 new titles), talked, met new people, sipped on tropical concoctions (often comparing them to one another, “here, try this”), relaxed on our private patio, floated on mats in the pool, reached consensus on plans for the evening, debated about whether we were going to have our next cocktail here or over there, and listened to live music. I must confess that we also admired the beautiful people walking by without having our gazes detected due to our dark sunglasses. Is that creepy or just honest?

We met a large group of people from Minnesota who were there for a wedding. They were very friendly folks, and had the strongest accents, right out of the movie Fargo. Kim, who is not as adept at relaxing as the rest of us are, would occasionally venture over and play beach volleyball with the Minnesotans and other guests and staff.

Accommodations or adjustments for me:

There was no way for me to get in the pool, but that was okay. It’s been a few years, and I was never a water lover anyway.

I didn’t consume very much alcohol, because drinking is a double loser for me. First, it makes me have to pee, and peeing takes time and effort. Second, alcohol makes me weak, and I’m already weak when I wake up in the morning because of MS. But I still had a couple of drinks here and there, and it felt good.

As a person with MS, my body is sensitive to heat, so I endeavored to stay in the shade. There were plenty of large umbrellas. I just had to adjust my position every half hour or so to follow the shade as the sun cut across the sky. When that became problematic, one of my brothers would wrestle with the large, heavy umbrella stands, and reposition them for me.

I didn’t play beach volleyball. I felt that I would have had an unfair advantage with my iBot.

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