During a business trip, our plane was right there… but apparently it needed to “cool off.”

And for about 40 minutes, we all listened to the collective soundtrack of airport impatience: sighs and mumbles, every time they extended boarding by “just a few more minutes.”

Then boarding finally started.

Everyone lined up… ready to board…and the entire gate area went silent as we watched several wheelchairs roll down the jetway.

In that moment, it was like we all had the same thought at the same time:
Our frustration wasn’t the main thing anymore.

Nobody complained about the extra 20 minutes it took to board those passengers. No moaning. No eye rolls. Just… patience.

Honestly? It was kind of awesome.

I even told my husband, “I bet they’re a wheelchair rugby team.”- I was just guessing

Then I went to the window to watch how the airline handled the wheelchairs—and I was genuinely impressed. Each chair was moved carefully and respectfully… very different from the way luggage sometimes gets tossed around like it owes somebody money.

Everyone waited patiently because the disability was visible. People understood immediately.

But that got me thinking…

When disabilities are visible, people tend to respond with understanding.

When they’re invisible… people often fill in the blanks with judgment.

And advocacy looks different depending on the setting. At school, advocacy might look like sitting around a table and planning an IEP.

But on a plane?
On a trip?
In a long security line with a dysregulated child?

That’s a different kind of advocacy. And it’s trickier.

When we arrived at our destination, the next morning I saw a few young men in wheelchairs.

My curiosity won.

So I walked over and asked, “Are you guys here for wheelchair rugby?”

They were—and they were competing that morning against the team that had been on my flight the night before!

Their coaches were there. A special van pulled up to pick them up. And off they went to play one of the roughest sports I’ve ever seen. FYI- It is an Olympic sport!

So I want to ask you:

How about you?

Who is your team when travel gets hard?

Do you have a coach? A therapist? A friend who gets it?

Someone who helps you “play your best game” when you’re tired, overstimulated, and carrying the mental load of the entire trip?

Because you deserve support too. You don’t have to do it alone. Every great team needs support on the sidelines.

If you could wave a magic wand and get ONE thing to make travel easier (airport, plane, hotel, strangers, a travel designer… all of it), what would it be?

Reply and tell me—I’m putting together a future resource based on real parent experiences.

While I was on a plane and heard a baby crying, it made me think about a post I read from a mom who shared a painful experience mid-flight.

Her child had been doing great—calm, settled, even asleep. But then the landing routine hit all at once: a loud announcement, bright cabin lights, the descent… and that awful ear-popping pressure.

Her child (a non-speaking autistic child) woke up abruptly and went into a full meltdown—crying, kicking the seat in front of them, completely overwhelmed. Sadly, one of the passengers nearby yelled at the mom.

If you’ve ever been in a moment like that, I want you to hear this clearly:

Meltdowns like these are not a parent’s failure.

Even with all the preparation in the world, if a child has autism or sensory processing challenges, a meltdown is often a sign that the nervous system is overloaded—not that the child is “being bad,” and not that you’re doing something wrong.

Just like a child with epilepsy can’t control a seizure, your child often can’t control dysregulation when triggers pile up:

Crowds + noise
Unpredictable routines
Pressure changes / ear pain
Bright lights + announcements
Sensory overload
And the stares? The comments? The judgment?

That reflects other people’s lack of understanding—not your worth as a parent.

***See the resources at the bottom of the newsletter***

I remember being a young mom taking my kids to a playground. There was a child who was biting, pulling hair, and hitting other children—including mine.

Huge confession (please don’t judge me too hard… this was more than 20 years ago):

I walked up to the parents and politely said, “Can you please control your child?” and “Can’t you see he’s hurting all these kids?”

I still remember the look on that young father’s face—tired, dismayed, and completely done—when he replied:

“You should take him with you and see if you can do better.”

Oof.

I hadn’t thought about that moment in years… and now, looking back, I’m embarrassed to admit how much ignorance (and lack of understanding) can shape our reactions to invisible disabilities.

I will never know that boy’s diagnosis. But what I do know is this:

That day at the playground, I wished I knew that I wasn’t looking at “bad parenting.”
I was looking at a tired young couple who brought their little boy to the playground hoping—maybe just maybe—he could play, join in, maybe even make a friend.

I can still picture them sitting on that bench, trying to rest for just a few minutes… while their nervous system was probably on high alert the whole time.

Knowing what I know now, I would never have said what I said. I would have offered something different:

A little patience

A little space

A little kindness

Maybe even a simple, “Do you need a hand?”

To parents:
Sometimes people say hurtful things because they don’t know what they don’t know. They may not mean to offend… but it still lands like a punch.

If you’ve experienced the stares, the comments, the “helpful” advice, or judgment (even from family)… I see you.

And honestly? Resilience is your second last name. 💛

To everyone else:
If you’re not directly impacted by disability, I want to invite you into something powerful:

Pause before you judge.

Some disabilities are invisible. Some meltdowns aren’t about discipline—they’re about sensory overload, pain, fear, communication barriers, or a nervous system that has hit its limit.

What looks like “a child out of control” is often a child having the hardest moment of their day.

And what looks like “a parent not doing enough” is often a parent doing everything.

I created these below, feel free to share- I appreciate if you keep the logo so we can bring more awareness together. I will be posting the individual files on our new Facebook Group! Hope you join us there for more travel tips and advocacy!

Autism & Sensory-Friendly Travel Society by The Autism Passport™

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https://www.behaviorplace.com/blog/travel-tips-for-kids-with-autism-adhd
https://dreambigchildren.com/blog/navigating-airports-and-airplanes-a-guide-for-parents-of-children-with-autism/
https://www.autismspeaks.org/expert-opinion/parents-child-autism-seek-help-public-meltdowns
https://www.luriechildrens.org/en/blog/travel-tips-for-children-with-autism-how-to-prepare-for-air-travel/
https://undivided.io/resources/airplane-travel-tips-for-kids-with-disabilities-320
https://www.autismspeaks.org/expert-opinion/parents-seek-help-handling-public-autism-meltdown
https://www.understood.org/en/articles/10-tips-to-help-kids-with-sensory-processing-issues-avoid-travel-meltdowns
https://www.connellbhs.com/flying-with-children/
https://www.autismjersey.org/what-should-i-do-if-i-see-a-child-having-a-meltdown-in-a-public-placepage
https://www.autismspeaks.org/blog/10-tips-traveling-autistic-children