We had packed it all: extra meds and a change of clothes, plenty of word search puzzles, power cords, patience and a plan. I even had pictures of Matt’s identification loaded on my phone. What I didn’t have: the hard copy of his passport or state ID.
What should have been the typical, easy 60-minute flight from San Diego to Phoenix spiraled into an eight-hour ordeal—and a timely reminder for National Accessible Air Travel Day on August 20.
The Southwest Airlines agents were kind, calm and well-trained. They didn’t need a long explanation about our son’s autism. They understood the importance of clear communication, practical accommodations—and dignity. Our experience with TSA was a different story.
After I paid the $45 TSA ConfirmID fee so Matt’s identity could be verified, I was directed to a chair in a corner for our son and told a supervisor would return in 10 minutes. We still had more than an hour before boarding and I was assured we would be fine.
Matt sat patiently completing his word searches while I stood and watched for the supervisor. Ten minutes became 20 before I respectfully and politely started nudging the TSA agents managing incoming passengers, who acknowledged me with a few kind words.
Three different TSA supervisors stopped by, each requiring me to re-explain everything. A San Diego police officer conducted a background check. Then came my more emotional plea about not wanting to miss our flight—and one agent’s quip that tears were not going to help and there was no way we would make it.
So we rolled the dice. We booked the next flight with one open seat, put one of us on standby and held seats on a later evening flight, just in case. The good news: We both got on the next flight. The not-so-good news: It was delayed by several hours.
So we walked…more than 10,000 steps, with breaks for stretching, word searches, snacks and small purchases—including my overpriced favorite suckers. We practiced scanning items, using a credit card, making eye contact, offering proper greetings and following public restroom protocols (thanks to those private family restrooms).
While Matt was learning, so was I—and we were together. We looked at photos from our recent family vacation reminding us of fun times in a cooler climate. We played lots of games. I added items to his schedule that he could happily check off. He also enjoyed his favorite videos while I caught up with a longtime friend who also happened to be at the airport—someone who has supported our autism journey from the start and who shared that his grandson had just been diagnosed. I was reminded of many soul-nourishing moments along the way.
I learned all over again why we should leave nothing to chance—or at home—when we travel. Especially when it comes to proper ID. Photos on a phone may be helpful, but they’re no substitute for what’s required at the checkpoint. TSA ConfirmID can be a resource for adults without standard identification, but it is not guaranteed and clearly not fast. Families should also plan for additional time to anticipate unexpected delays.
This unfortunate incident reminded me of the power of people who do not demand a detailed explanation, like a trained airline agent or a patient stranger. The comforts of a family restroom and a chair in a quiet corner. These are not luxuries. They are essential parts of what makes travel possible, manageable and—at certain times—even bearable.
National Accessible Air Travel Day reminds us that accessible travel is more than ramps, wheelchairs and boarding procedures. It’s also about a collective, keen awareness of sensory needs, cognitive disabilities, communication differences, caregiver roles—and the invisible burden families carry every time they step into an airport.
For families preparing to fly, resources can help. The Arc’s Wings for Autism/Wings for All offers airport rehearsal experiences so people with autism and/or intellectual/developmental disabilities can practice check-in and security procedures, waiting at the gate and boarding a plane. Southwest Airlines also provides information about cognitive and developmental disability, including assistance from curb to gate and during connections. These tools matter because practice builds confidence—for travelers, families and aviation professionals.
For airports, airlines and federal agencies, the need is clear: Train, listen, communicate and design systems that recognize the full range of passenger ability. A person with autism may not look like someone who needs support. A parent or caregiver may appear calm until the system stops working for them. A delay that is inconvenient for one traveler can be destabilizing for another. Air travel opens doors—to family, work, adventure, independence and belonging. But those doors must be accessible, predictable and dignified.
As we acknowledge National Accessible Air Travel Day, I am grateful for those whose shoulders we stand on, for advocates pushing the aviation industry forward and for every professional who chooses patience over policy-speak. I am also mindful of the work still ahead—one airport, one checkpoint and one person at a time.
Prepare for takeoff!