I didn’t always fly, drive and travel with a disability.

Hobart airport tarmac, disembarking, May 2012. My first, most visceral disability travel moment. I pictured my forward plunging body lying, bleeding from every point of bitumen-contact with each step down the horrifyingly vertical, thin, metal, waiting-for-an-accident-to-happen-to-anyone-stair-mountain. Each step down seemed to bring me no closer to the bottom – until it did, of course.

This was, yet another, characteristically abrupt development in my Limb-Girdle Muscular Dystrophy (LGMD) journey. And so my travelling, including flying with a disability, life began.