Norwegian Encore - Transatlantic - Day 13

Norwegian Encore - Day 13 - December 15, 2024 - Miami to NYC

I woke up very early and kept reminding myself that with the amount of time I had before my flight at 5pm, many things could go wrong and I would still make it.

We were arriving at the Port of Miami and we passed a Carnival ship, which filled my view out my balcony door as we passed it.

I took one last “shower”, a complicated feat that avoided getting my splint wet. Lots of leaning and balancing. Not ideal, but still felt good. Rod had already ordered something to protect my leg while bathing, so I knew I’d be able to have a better shower when I got home.

I’d decided to go directly from the cruise port to the airport. Even if I went to the airport first and checked my bag, I would still have time to go to urgent care if I decided to. My thought was that whatever happened in Miami, I’d still need to get everything looked at and dealt with back home in New York. I wanted to get home.

At 5:30am I called guest services and told them that instead of refunding me for the airport shuttle I’d canceled (I would take a car service instead), they had charged me a second time. They said they saw that and it would be taken care of. (It was never taken care of. They charged my credit card a total of $50 for a service I didn’t use.)

I asked them about the wheelchair that was supposed to come at 7am and they told me they would call me back. They never called me back.

Paul messaged me asking if I wanted him to fix me a plate from the buffet. It was tempting, but I still had some of my food from the room service delivery the day before, so I stuck with that.

Another call to guest services. They put me on hold and then I was disconnected. To be fair, they are swamped on disembarkation day.

I put all the hangers back up in the closet and double-checked the bathroom and the cabin for anything I might have missed.

I called my room steward and told him I’d requested a wheelchair. He said he would let his supervisor know.

Around 7am, a wheelchair arrived for me. I had my suitcase, which was put between my legs/feet with the wheels on the floor. My backpack and another bag were on my lap. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it worked. They wheeled me to the sitting area on Deck 8 and had me move to a chair to await the next step. There were lots of other people needing assistance already in that area. I was definitely the youngest.

A few minutes later, wheelchairs started showing up to take people off the ship. We were seated all over the place, in no particular order, but those who arrived before me were well aware of the order in which people should be taken. I was pretty sure I was close to the end, so let it all play out without speaking up. “He’s next!” someone would say and point at a passenger. When it all seemed to be dying down, I was still there. Someone near me pointed in my direction and yelled to a crew member “She needs one too!” I was grateful.

Paul messaged me saying he had made it outside and could wait for me if I wanted to share a Lyft to the airport. I said yes, please. What a relief to know I’d have someone to help me there! I told him I was on my way.

I recognized the person who wheeled me out. He wasn’t part of the bell service crew. I think he was one of the Cruise Director’s posse. He was definitely invested in making passengers happy. He wheeled me to the crew elevators rather than the regular ones to expedite the process. He brought me down the gangway and to customs/immigration. He didn’t seem to have done this task before and instead of assuming he couldn’t help me, he assumed he could.

He brought me to a dropoff area near security. He explained to someone there that I couldn’t walk (only with crutches) and would need assistance getting out with my bag. There was nowhere to sit there and he asked for a chair (which wasn’t possible to get). He couldn’t stay or leave the wheelchair, but he got a woman who worked there to escort me through security and outside.

I showed my passport and was waved through. The woman and a man who appeared escorted me and wheeled my bag as I used my crutches.

Next thing I knew I was on the floor. My right crutch had slipped and down I went. I took out my camera and took a photo of my legs on the floor. The woman was immediately concerned.

“Why are you taking a picture?”

“I’m going to send it to my friends.”

“The floor isn’t slippery!”

“Well, my crutch did slip.”

They helped me up. The man walked next to me and the woman walked behind me.

A minute later, the right crutch slipped again, but I caught myself. The woman had seen it too. We looked down at the floor and it was shinier closer to the wall the whole way. And…slippery. We decided I should move a bit to the left for the rest of the walk.

She brought me to a bench, cleared someone else off it, and sat me down. There were buses in front of me.

“Where do I get a car?” I asked. She said taxis would come there. It didn’t really look like it.

I messaged Paul and told him where I was. He initially thought a huge pile of suitcases near me were mine. He was relieved that I just had a small-ish carry-on. I arranged a Lyft and he put my suitcase on top of his. We were in a car within a few minutes.

What a relief.

The driver dropped us off right in front of the American Airlines outdoor bag check. Paul would leave from a different terminal, but he had even more time than I did, so stuck with me a while longer.

Waiting without a seat while on crutches and unable to rest one foot on the ground is exhausting. And it hurts. It took a while before it was my turn to check my bag. When it was my turn, though, the guy at the counter gave me his full attention. I asked him if there was a good place to hang out and get coffee or a bite to eat this side of security. Yes, there was. He asked if I wanted him to wheel me inside. I accepted the offer. He brought us to a booth at Au Bon Pain.

Paul offered to get me a coffee, which I accepted. It was a repeat of the day at The Local when he filled my cup with his coffee and then had to wait for more for himself. Au Bon Pain filled one cup and a little bit of a second one, but then he had to wait for a new pot. I felt a little bad sending him back to the counter for milk (but did it anyway). You’ve probably caught on that he is an excellent sport. (Or, as my aunt described him after a previous post I wrote, a “saint”!)

We had our coffee and Paul had a bagel. We sat, chatted, and passed time for a while.

He decided he would go to his terminal and check his luggage. I told him my plan was to eventually make it to the Turkish Airlines Lounge and that I could bring a guest, if he ended up there too. It looked like it was technically possible, but not terribly convenient, looking at the map of the airport.

We asked an American Airlines employee where to go for a wheelchair and she pointed us to a small seating area specifically for that. Paul escorted me there and I thanked him for everything and gave him a hug. He was not only excellent company, but he had made my life much easier over the last few days. I was so grateful I’d met him. (And still thought it was crazy that he happened to be an x-ray technician.)

There were probably about 20 seats in the wheelchair area and I took one of the last empty ones. They check people in and then prioritize wheelchair service based on when flights are. That makes a lot of sense, but I really hoped I wouldn’t be there for the next five hours. I wasn’t the only one concerned.

I started making small talk with some people around me. One woman was standing with her father seated. When she saw me, she said “Cruise ship?” Yes. She said I was the third person she had met at the airport THAT DAY who had been injured on a cruise. That’s…not great!

Another woman was so confused about what time it was because her watch said one thing, her phone something else, and the airport clock a third time. She had also been on a cruise. We figured out how to get everything set the proper way again for her.

Time was passing and I was wondering how difficult it would be to get myself to my gate. Luckily, someone told me that the lines were very long and things were spread out. Wheelchairs get brought right to the front and it would be best to sit tight.

I didn’t have to wait too long, considering. My name was called and a woman wheeled me up to security. Because I couldn’t walk and had a splint on my leg, I had to wait for a while for clearance to bring the wheelchair through. Then they had to check me more thoroughly with their wands and swabs to make sure I could continue on.

We were on our way to my gate and I asked the woman pushing the chair where the Turkish Airlines Lounge was. I thought maybe I could get myself between the two. She said she could bring me to the lounge instead and I accepted. It was a long way!! I don’t think she was even prepared for how far it was. She seemed a little annoyed.

When we arrived, we saw a set of stairs and a wheelchair elevator - a pile of metal that could lift one occupied chair and one person pushing it up to the next level. I dug out the last of my dollars, gave them to the woman, and told her I could get up the elevator on my own. She explained how to use it and was on her way.

When I got up there, I discovered a long line for entry into the lounge. By the time I reached the front, I was exhausted. But they let me in!

Over the summer, when I decided travel was going to be my priority for the next year and I started learning about miles and points, I got a Chase Sapphire card. With it, came Priority Pass, which gets me into lounges at airports all over the world. This was my first opportunity to take advantage of that. I’d heard that sometimes lounges are at capacity and you can’t get in, so I’d crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t have any problem. (By the way, if you ever decide to get a Chase Sapphire card, I can send a referral link, which will get me extra miles!)

When I went in, I saw an empty chair ahead and decided to make a beeline for it. I awkwardly arranged my backpack and my crutches. The woman in the next chair asked me about my injury.

Something about her made me immediately ask “Are you a doctor?”

She was! Not only that, but she was an orthopedic surgeon who specializes in foot and ankle injuries. I thought about the book I’d been finished on the cruise (The Magic of Believing) and thought OF COURSE the person I sat down next to happened to be an expert in this area. I asked her if she wanted to see my x-rays and she really did! She confirmed that I needed to see a specialist as soon as possible when I got home. She told me that she loved her job. She always knew she wanted to be a doctor and when she was deciding what to concentrate on, she realized that her whole life she would pay attention to the way people walked and moved. This was the perfect thing for her.

She asked me if I needed anything. I asked her if she could grab me a couple bottles of water. There was a lot of food in the next room, but it was hard for me to carry anything. There was a QR code for some food that could be ordered through my phone and brought to my seat. I ordered some rice with chickpeas and some mixed vegetables, which arrived about fifteen minutes later.

After a little while, I got up to use the restroom, which was through the next room and around a corner. The door was heavy and out of nowhere a teenage girl popped in front of me and asked if I needed help. She held the door for me as I made my way in. How nice! When I left, I saw her seated kind of far away. She had made a real effort just to assist me and I was appreciative.

On my way back, I looked at the sodas and couldn’t imagine how I could carry one to my seat. (A couple weeks later, I could manage this!) I asked a lounge employee if he could bring me a soda and another water, which he was happy to do.

My new surgeon friend wished me well and left for her flight. A young man sat down a couple minutes later. Someone who I hadn’t spoken to said to me “That was crazy that you sat next to a surgeon!” I turned to the new man and told him what had happened.

He took a second and then responded “I don’t want you to be concerned, but I’m a cardiologist.” That made me laugh out loud. Nothing was wrong with my heart, thank goodness. He’d sustained the same injury as me, though, when he was in college and had slipped on some ice.

People came and went. I got a little sandwich and some rice pudding.

Technically, there is a three hour limit for being in a lounge, but no one enforced that with me.

When I’d been dropped off, I was told that a wheelchair would be arranged for pickup so that I could get to my gate. About 90 minutes before my flight, though, I wondered if one would really show up. I decided I’d really prefer to start the process and make sure I had plenty of time. I hobbled up to the Turkish Airlines desk at the front and waited patiently to be acknowledged. It was busy with a very long line of people waiting to get in. I asked if they could help me call a wheelchair. The woman tried the number several times, but got a busy signal. She was multitasking - trying to do that and get people checked in at the same time.

I told her I’d be happy to call myself if she could give me the number. She gave it to me. I went back to my chair and dialed until it finally rang and someone picked up. I was told they would send someone.

Half an hour went by and no one appeared. Then, I saw someone being wheeled in. I asked if they were also picking me up. They weren’t. The woman at the desk asked if I’d managed to make a request and I confirmed that I had, but it had been a while and I needed to get someone soon.

I sat back down again and waited. And waited. I got a notification on my phone that my flight was boarding.

I made eye contact with a supervisor in the lounge and she came over to me. I showed her my phone. “It’s boarding?!” she asked. I confirmed that it was. She sprung into action. I saw her head to the front desk and give a quick lecture. She picked up the phone and made a call. She came back to me and said they were working on it. She said that there were always issues with wheelchairs from American Airlines. There was much scurrying and a man (without a wheelchair) appeared. The supervisor told me he was there for me. She put her hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes and nodded, like “You can do this.” I thanked her and worked my way over to the man.

He asked if I could get down the stairs. Somehow, in the time I was in the lounge, the elevator had broken. I looked at the stairs, which seemed impossible.

I asked if someone could take my crutches. A stranger brought them to the bottom of the stairs. I put my right hand on the railing. I put my left arm around the man’s shoulders. I hopped down one step at a time, visualizing each one before each jump. Everyone around me was relieved when I got to the bottom. The man had a cart with a wheelchair on the back of it. He put me in the seat next to him and started zipping through the crowded corridors, beeping and hollering at people along the way. We got to the gate, where a long line of people were boarding. He brought me to the front of the line, got my boarding pass scanned and squeezed my wheelchair by everyone on the gangway until we got to the airplane door. He wasn’t allowed on the plane. He handed my backpack to a flight attendant. I’d put everything I might need on the flight in a smaller bag, which I kept with me. I used my crutches to get to my seat in the 13th row in Economy, longingly noting the one empty seat in Business Class. The flight attendant put my backpack above me and brought my crutches to the closet in the front.

I’d made it. I confirmed that my checked bag had also made it. Thank goodness for AirTags.

Three hours later, the flight attendant returned my crutches. A wheelchair met me at the door of the plane. I was wheeled to baggage claim. Along the way, I texted Rod and asked him if he had a tip for my attendant. He said he did and let me know that he had already retrieved my checked bag. I was allowed to stay in the chair until Rod brought the car around to pick me up.

The journey from Miami to New York that I’d been so stressed about was over. So many people helped me along the way. I was thankful for all of them. And thankful for being home.

The following day I’d start dealing with doctors appointments and health insurance and travel insurance. Until then, I’d relax, get fed, and get some sleep in my own bed.