Autism Service Dogs

Boy, am I angry. I had planned to write a nice article about the excellent disability accommodations I'd received from United Airlines on my outbound trip to Denver, but at the moment all I can think about is how angry I am at their casual disregard for the law when booking my return flight.

Outbound, I'd explained my need for accommodations to the reservations agent, and had no problems getting my accommodative seating. In fact, while it wasn't required, the agent went so far as to block off an entire row of seats for Glindy and I in bulkhead so that we wouldn't have any issues. That's what I call customer service!

However, I just got off the phone with a putative Complaints Resolution Officer for United—but he was, in fact, just a call-center supervisor who obviously didn't know the law. When I asked for bulkhead seats, he told me that they would only give them to me if I were blind or unable to walk. I asked if any blind or immobilized passengers were currently occupying those bulkhead seats, and he said no, but they made it a policy to hold them "in reserve."

I told him that if they needed to move me to accommodate someone who had greater need of those bulkhead seats than my service dog and I, then of course I would understand, but otherwise they were required to release one of those seats to me. He insisted that they didn't; that all they had to do was make a "reasonable accommodation" of some sort.

In the end, rather than not get my ticket changed at all, I agreed to be seated in Economy Plus seating, which boasts "five extra inches of leg room," although it's not entirely clear to me that this is five inches in front of the seat stanchions, which are the main reason I avoid non-bulkhead seats when traveling with Glindy. It doesn't do us any good if it's five extra inches in depth under the seats.

Alas, I didn't think to pull out my handy-dandy legal cheat sheet. By that point, the main issue was that I needed to have my non-refundable tickets changed before the flight left, so I was more interested in getting the flight changed than anything else. However, after hanging up the phone, I did a little double-checking.

14 CFR 382.38(3) specifically says:

For an individual traveling with a service animal, the carrier shall provide, as the individual requests, either a bulkhead seat or a seat other than a bulkhead seat.

so clearly a disabled individual can insist on a bulkhead seat, whatever this guy said.

Now that I have my ticket properly changed for my homeward flight, I plan to call tomorrow to insist that they change my seat from Economy Plus back to bulkhead seating. It's what I asked for. It's what I want. And even if I occasionally let myself be bullied when I shouldn't, there's nothing that says I can't regroup, gather my thoughts, and try again.

My outbound flight to Los Angeles the previous week was a genuinely unpleasant experience, with a few minor bright spots. It started with a rude Southwest Airlines ticket agent, who decided it was his job to redefine the airline's baggage policy to suit his own prejudices.

Him: How many bags are you checking?

Me: Just the one on the scale.

Him: [points at my carry-ons] You can't take those on the plane.

Me: Why not?

Him: You're only allowed one carry-on, plus maybe a purse.

Me: I'm allowed one 22-inch bag, one personal item, and my service dog's equipment, which is exempt. I've got one carry-on, one laptop, and my service dog's backpack. We're fine.

Him: Hmmmm. [turns back to terminal]

[several minutes pass]

Me: Excuse me, are we moving this process along?

Him: I'm reading the regulations on service dogs.

[several more minutes pass]

Him: Take your checked luggage over to x-ray.

Me: Thanks. By the way, can you find out how long the line is at security? I'd really like to take my service dog to the puppy park before the flight if we'll have enough time to get through the checkpoint.

Him: Go upstairs and see for yourself.

Me: Since the puppy park is over by baggage claim, which is the completely opposite direction from the gate, that wouldn't give me enough time to make the trip twice. Don't you have any way to check the line length, or perhaps you could contact the gate agent?

Him: [mumbles and turns away]

So, Mr. Rude had clearly decided that he had no legitimate way to interfere with me, but had simultaneously decided to be as unhelpful as possible. He also left me struggling with four bulky items and a service dog, without even asking if I needed help.

Luckily, the agent who'd been standing next to him noticed the problem, and very kindly offered to help me schlep the big piece of checked luggage over to x-ray. I thanked her profusely for her kindness, and hoped that this indicated my day would improve. Of course, my unbridled optimism was to be short-lived.

More to come...

I just got off the phone with Horizon Air's customer service. I was trying to book a flight to Los Angeles, and was having trouble arranging for accommodative seating.

The FAA regulations state that a service animal may not sit in an emergency exit row. Unfortunately, the planes Horizon operates in this particular market don't have bulkhead or first-class seats; instead, the forward-most seats are coach-class emergency exit rows, so Glindy and I may not sit there. This would seem to technically violate 14 CFR 382.38(a)(3), but I'm not sure how much hay one could make of that.

The Air Carrier Access Act also says that an airline must either block seats or provide priority seating for disabled passengers, but the ways they can go about it are often unfriendly. Horizon handles this situation by requiring disabled passengers to check in early, and ask the ticketing or gate agents to arrange for blocking or rearrangement of seats. This method may meet the requirements of the seating assignments section (14 CFR 382.38(b)), but leaves some edge cases where one is likely to have to involve a Complaints Resolution Official (14 CFR 382.65).

What this means in practice is that Horizon will do its best, but it is certainly possible to be bumped from a flight under certain circumstances. For example, if the flight is completely full and no one is willing to share foot-space with your dog, you might be out of luck, as a carrier isn't required to furnish more than one seat per ticket (14 CFR 382.38(i)) or bump other passengers to provide an accommodation (14 CFR 382.38(h)).

Whether or not Horizon is meeting the requirement to adequately disclose limitations on accommodation (14 CFR 382.45) remains an open question in my mind, but Horizon is unfortunately within the law in how they choose to assign seats in this case.

In the end, I cancelled my Horizon Air reservation, and booked on Southwest instead, since Southwest does provide bulkhead seats to disabled passengers. In addition, Southwest's reservation system now allows passengers to indicate, at the time of booking, that they will be travelling with either a service dog or emotional support animal. This is a huge step forward, in my opinion; it certainly saves the hassle of having to contact the airlines after making the reservation to have the ticket annotated.

Well, Horizon's loss was Southwest's gain. I would prefer having assigned seats on a plusher plane such as those Horizon Air operates, but I vastly prefer Southwest's accommodation practices.

Even though I haven't posted much lately, I've been keeping busy. A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to engage in a little ADA advocacy, and I thought I'd share that here.

The trainer that I occasionally work with referred someone to me for advice about access problems with Amtrak. Apparently, this woman had a self-trained mobility-assistance dog, and had called Amtrak's customer service to ensure that there would be no problems with taking her dog on a previously-scheduled trip.

The customer service agent at Amtrak told this woman that she needed a doctor's letter, special identification for the dog, and training certifications. Naturally, this stymied the woman, and she wasn't sure what to do.

This didn't sound right to me, since both Title II and Title III of the ADA cover rail service. In addition, I'm fairly sure that Amtrak falls under Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, since they receive federal funding. And while some states still require special certifications for guide dogs, that wouldn't apply in this case even if the federal laws didn't supersede such regulations.

I suggested that this woman had received bad information from the customer service agent, and that she should call back and insist on speaking with a supervisor to clear up the issue. I further suggested that she use the following language to avoid confusing the issue:

I spoke to a customer service agent earlier, and believe I was given some incorrect information regarding Amtrak's policies regarding travel with service animals. I want to ensure that there won't be any confusion at the station or problems boarding the train, and would appreciate your help in clarifying the issue.

I told her that if they insisted on documentation of some kind, that she should ask the supervisor to identify the source of that policy, since it clearly isn't required under federal law. When issues like this arise, it's usually best to gather as many facts as possible before deciding on a course of action.

I told her that, if they didn't resolve the issue to her satisfaction, I'd be happy to advocate for her in my capacity as a private citizen. I didn't think it would come to that, though, and I was right.

When she called Amtrak back, she had to insist rather firmly on speaking to a supervisor, but once she reached one the issue was dealt with easily. The supervisor told her that she had indeed received incorrect information, and that he would note on her ticket that she was traveling with a service dog so that there wouldn't be any further issues.

I just love happy endings, don't you?

Sunday afternoon, I zipped over to my local GNC store with Glindy to snag some low-carb stuff before they closed. I knew exactly what I wanted, so I grabbed a few high-protein drinks off the shelf, and headed straight for the counter. The girl at the counter rang me up, and that was it: mission accomplished! Elapsed time in the store was around four minutes at that point.

As we turned to leave, though, the girl at the counter said: "Next time, leave your dog outside."

Now, when something like this happens, I typically assume that people haven't noticed Glindy's service vest, or are ignorant of the laws which protect service animals other than guide dogs. So, I politely told her that Glindy was a service dog, and was allowed to accompany me by law.

The clerk was unpersuaded. "I'm allergic to dogs. You need to leave your dog outside," she insisted.

"I'm genuinely sorry to hear you're allergic," I replied, "but the law is quite clear that my dog may accompany me. If you have any questions about how to handle this situation in future, I suggest you speak to your manager."

At this point, of course, the store clerk was exacerbating any allergy issues she may have had by dragging out my time in the store. Still, I thought it had been dealt with sufficiently, so I thanked her for her help and began walking towards the door again. However, instead of letting it go, she sent me on my way with a final snide comment: "Thank you so much for giving me an allergic reaction."

I didn't say anything more to the young lady, but I did call the store manager the following day. I explained what had happened. It turns out that the clerk had reported most of the incident to her manager, but had neglected to mention the rude parting comment.

The manager was polite to me, agreed that the clerk's comments were uncalled for, and told me that she'd explained the laws to her the previous evening after the incident. The manager stopped short of saying that she'd reprimand the girl, and didn't actually apologize to me for the problems I'd encountered, but I still finished the conversation feeling that the incident was unlikely to be repeated at this particular store.

Glindy and I are in California again. On the way here, we once again took Southwest. This time, though, the gate agent gave me some mild grief.

When I handed him my blue pre-boarding ticket jacket, he looked at Glindy and asked me if she was a Seeing Eye dog. I told him she was a service dog, at which point he asked to see my dog's "papers." I told him that the Air Carrier Access Act does not require me to show any kind of documentation for a service dog, but he remained unconvinced.

He told me that he'd allow me onto the plane, but would check out my assertion and come fetch me from the cabin if he needed more "proof" from me. At that point, I firmly told him that he'd better come with a Complaint Resolution Officer in tow if he did that, and strode off down the jetway.

A minute or two later, I was politely greeted by the cabin crew, who remembered us from a previous flight. They welcomed us aboard, helped Glindy and me settle into our bulkhead seats, and that was the end of our minor drama.

I received a very minor access challenge at the Oakland Airport yesterday. The boarding pass checker at the beginning of the security queue asked me for my dog's boarding pass as well. I told her I didn't need one, and she then asked: "Don't you need a letter or something?"

I brusquely (but politely) explained that the Air Carrier Access Act ensured that my dog could accompany me, and that no boarding pass or other special paperwork was necessary. My no-nonsense attitude convinced her that I knew what I was talking about, and she let me pass without further comment.

At the convention this weekend, Glindy and I had both ups and downs--mostly ups, of course. Here they all are:

Ups

• Minimal fuss at check-in, once we assured the clerk that Glindy was a service dog.
• Glindy and I walked well together through the convention crowds.
• Most of the conventioneers took an "Ooh, how cute!" view of Glindy's presence.
• Mary Tamm, Pamela Salem, Nicholas Briggs, and a few other celebrities couldn't resist coming up to coo over the dog.
• Glindy sat quietly through hours of panel discussions.
• She was only mildly started the first few times there was thunderous applause.
• Several waiters, especially in the upscale J.W.'s Steakhouse, came up to compliment me on how well-behaved Glindy was in the restaurant.
• The hotel manager had words with one of the other on-premises restaurants over access issues. Marriott was wonderfully supportive!
• We had no accidents, disruptive barking, or other embarrassing incidents.
• Having Glindy with me really reduced my general anxiety level, as well as the attendant OCD that goes along with it.
• Because of the dog, I ended up walking several miles a day, which can only be a good thing.

Downs

• Glindy was pulling on leash every time we went for a walk outside.
• Too many people wanted to pet Glindy. She was very hand-shy by the end of the convention.
• Everyone wanted to know what she was in training for, what she did for me, or wanted to share a story about some other service dog team they knew. It was exhausting and a bit invasive, even if it is somewhat understandable.
• A single conventioneer had to leave the hospitality suite shortly after we entered due to allergies.
• Glindy's tail got stepped on just once all weekend. A mortified woman in the vendor suite hadn't thought to look down as she walked; it wasn't entirely her fault, as Glindy was lying behind me.
• Three different hostesses at the on-premises cafe, Latitude 33, gave me grief on three separate occasions. They kept insisting that pets weren't allowed, and that there were no exceptions for service dogs.
• Glindy barked at a tiny yorkie some woman had sitting on her luggage cart near the bell desk. I can't remember if the yorkie barked first or not, though.
• A volunteer in the convention's hospitality suite kept insisting that no dogs were allowed, even when the convention staff assured her that service dogs were an exception. She eventually stormed off, muttering about how "dogs are unsanitary."
• Glindy tended to sprawl on the floor, rather than tuck in safely. We need to work on that.

As you can see, it was a good experience overall. We didn't meet any insurmountable problems, and would gladly do it again in the future.

The return trip from LA to Reno was both more and less challenging. We dealt with all the usual things: bathroom breaks for both of us, seating, and boarding. Our biggest challenge this time around was negotiating proper seating on a booked flight.

As with our maiden voyage, the accommodative seating I'm required to request at least 24 hours in advance wasn't properly handled ahead of time by the airline, and needed to be negotiated at the airport. This time around, the ticketing agent was more than happy to issue me bulkhead seating, despite the fact that it was located on an exit row. This would turn out to be a problem later.

When I got to the gate, I told the gate agent that we needed more time to get situated this time around, and that we hadn't been given adequate pre-boarding time on our previous segment. He graciously made sure that we were able to board as soon as the flight attendants boarded. This would have been plenty of time, had I not had to argue with one of the flight attendants about our seating arrangements.

When I got on the plane, the flight attendant told me that we could not sit in the exit row, even though we'd been issued the boarding pass in full knowledge by the ticketing agent. Not wishing to argue the matter, I again suggested that they simply clear a seat next to me. That's when the real argument ensued.

The flight attendant insisted that they didn't have to give me an additional seat unless I paid for another ticket, and that Glindy was required to fit under the seat in front of me. Naturally, all of this was wrong, but she was not willing to bend without considerable argument, and my insistence that failing to reach a mutual agreement would result in requiring the intervention of the Complaint Resolution Officer.

She finally agreed to show me the FAA regulations she thought supported her position, and was at least willing to accept defeat gracefully when I pointed to the language which showed that she was in error. So, she had the gate agent reassign me two adjacent seats, and I was pretty sure that we had resolved everything.

By this time, of course, the had already started general boarding, so we were once again thwarted in our attempts to get settled before people started queueing up behind us. At least the pre-boarding allowed us to hash out the seating issue in a timely way.

After everyone had boarded, though, she came up to me again and said that they had a pilot from another airline that they were trying to accommodate, and that he was willing to share leg space with my dog. It was more of a statement than a request, and I wasn't sure what my options were at that point, so I acquiesced to letting the pilot take the seat next to mine.

As I understand it, the pilot was trying to catch a ride home under a space-available program all airlines participate in. He was actually a nice guy, and was pretty understanding of the dog hair, position shifts, and other inconveniences of sharing the space with a service dog, so I'm glad we were able to accommodate each other in this particular instance.

In future, though, I want to make sure that Glindy and I aren't displaced without recourse, especially if we're on another type of plane where the floor space is less flexible. Even though both of us were being accommodated by the airline (e.g. neither one of us was paying for that extra seat), it is my gut feeling that my disability accommodation would trump a space-available passenger of any kind, but it's potentially a gray area. After all, the airlines are not required to bump any passengers off the flight to create an accommodation; the real question is whether a space-available passenger being denied boarding would be considered a "bump" or simply a lack of available space.

Either way, it worked out okay this time around. Glindy and I are a bit more experienced now, and have a better idea what to expect on our next trip. Hopefully, this new knowledge will help us navigate the airport experience more smoothly, and with better understanding of what accommodations to ask of each type of airline personnel.

Last night at the supermarket, the young lady at the register glanced over the checkout counter at my vested service dog, and said, "Normally we don't permit pets in here." The implication, of course, was that she wasn't going to raise a fuss this time, but that I shouldn't do it again.

Of course, I told her that Glindy was a service dog, to which she responded that only dogs for the blind were allowed. I told her that, while many people didn't realize it, service dogs had the same legal status as guide dogs (this is mostly true, with the possible exception of some local "white cane laws" that may apply only to guide dogs). She looked bewildered, and dropped the subject.

Like many others, I suppose I feel a bit defensive when people challenge my right to have Glindy with me in public. More problematic, though, is the surge of frustration I feel when I'm distracted from the task at hand, because I don't shift focus all that well. As a result, I'm never sure socially how to handle the situation most constructively, and usually take the tack that if they don't tell me to leave, I drop the subject when they do.

I realized after the fact that, while I handled the situation well, I may have missed a good opportunity to further educate someone about the ADA and the Nevada laws regarding service dogs. Then again, would it really have been useful to whip out my legal cheat sheet to educate the young cashier about service dogs, or would it have simply been obnoxious and overbearing? It's hard for me to tell, although I suspect the latter.

Since the "challenge" was well-meaning, and didn't actually result in any drama, I'm letting it go. I can always speak to store management at a later time, if it becomes a pattern.

In the meantime, most people tend to give way when faced with someone confident and assured in whatever it is that they are doing; being a service dog handler is no exception. As long as I know my rights and express myself with confidence, I doubt I will have to resort to sterner measures very often.