Airports pretend to be equal places. Everyone lines up, everyone gets screened, everyone waits. That’s the illusion. Watch closely and you’ll see something different — older people dragging themselves along, quietly paying in sweat and pain for things they didn’t have to.
I saw it last year in Dubai. A group of seniors, clearly exhausted, bags slipping from their hands, edging toward security. Nobody told them they could get help. Nobody even looked at them. They just endured. My daughter leaned toward me and whispered, “Baba, they don’t have to do this. They could ask.” And she was right. But they didn’t. Maybe pride, maybe habit. Whatever it was, it saved the airline a bit of money and time.
Silence, and who it serves
Here’s the thing: every “perk” costs the airline something. A wheelchair request ties up a staff member. Senior fares take a few dollars off the ticket. Pre-boarding slows down the flow of “priority” passengers. So airlines don’t talk about it. They wait for you to ask. If you don’t? Perfect. They save.
That’s what I call the silent economy. Seniors stay quiet. Airlines quietly benefit.
Rights, not favours
Most people over 65 don’t know half of what they’re entitled to. At 75, you can go through lighter screening. No shoes, no belt, shorter lines. Wheelchair assistance isn’t only for people who can’t walk — fatigue, arthritis, long corridors, all qualify.
The senior fares exist too, but hidden. You won’t see a big flashy “discounts for seniors” button on their websites. You have to say the words. “I’d like to book a senior fare for passengers sixty-five and older.” If you don’t, they won’t mention it.
My younger daughter laughed once and said, “Baba, it’s like ordering off a secret menu. If you don’t know the code, you just pay full price.” She wasn’t wrong.
Pride is expensive
Here’s where it gets personal. My father’s generation never asked. It felt shameful. Weak. He would have dragged himself through the longest terminal before requesting a chair. And I get it. Asking feels like fussing. Even now, I hesitate.
But pride comes with swollen ankles, aching backs, missed flights. Pride makes you pay in ways the airline never sees.
Generations don’t think the same
My daughters are ruthless about comfort. They’ll ask for lounge vouchers, demand better seats, stand at the desk until someone helps. I sometimes scold them for being too pushy, but deep down I know they’re right. The system doesn’t reward quiet people.
And yet here I am, sixty-three, diabetic, blood pressure pills in my bag, still wondering if I should just “manage” like those seniors in Dubai.
The real question
Why should a seventy-year-old woman drag her bag across a terminal when a regulation already gives her the right to help? Why should a man with diabetes wait in a line that makes him dizzy when he could be pre-boarded?
No reason at all — except silence.
Next time
So maybe the experiment is this. Next time, instead of enduring, say it out loud: “I would like assistance for mobility needs.” Try it once. Watch how the system suddenly bends for you.
Because there is no medal for suffering at an airport. The only prize is exhaustion. And the only winner is the airline.
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