From our airport of origin—San Francisco, USA—my husband had to be in a wheelchair as he was nursing bad knees, a cough, and a fractured wrist. He had the doctor’s certificate to prove his state of health. He was one of only two people (the other was a Caucasian woman in her 90s with poor eyesight) who got the privilege.
Traveling mercies and grace saw us through an uneventful flight from the US to the Taoyuan International Airport, Taiwan, for our connecting flight to Manila. Again, Tony had to be wheeled from our first plane to the next, while I tried to keep pace with my sore, aching toes.
Was I startled when I saw over 40 other Filipinos in wheelchairs, too! Many of them were much younger than I. This shot is only half of the many more people from other connecting flights that were added to this group minutes later.
It was a glimpse of home.
According to someone from our own airport, able-bodied Filipinos (sometimes more than 100 in one flight!) take advantage of the wheelchair privilege to be first in line and get preferential treatment.
True enough, majority of the above were hale and healthy to walk briskly, pull their heavy luggage, and run to hug their loved ones outside the terminal.
This glimpse of home came even before I actually caught sight of our Motherland from the plane.
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