Beyond the High Score: How I Rebuilt My Life After Gaming Addiction
It’s strange how something as simple as sound can define your life. For some people, it’s the rhythm of waves, the hum of a familiar street, or the voices of family echoing through a childhood home. For me, it was the sound of a quarter clinking into an arcade slot and the deep, bassy hum of a machine waiting for a player. That sound was a call to adventure, and I answered it more times than I can count.
I spent most of my life in orbit around video games, playing them, making them, living them. They gave me purpose, success, and a sense of belonging. They also gave me an addiction that would follow me for decades, one that would eventually be ripped away in an instant the day I lost my vision. This isn’t a cautionary tale told from a pulpit; it’s an honest look at how passion and addiction can wear the same face, and how one day, they might trade places without you realizing it.
The Spark: Space Wars and the First Hit
It was 1977, the same year Star Wars hit theaters, and I was a kid completely obsessed with all things space. My mom read a newspaper article one morning about a new kind of interactive “space game” available to play at a comic shop across town. She didn’t know it, but that ride after school would chart the trajectory of my entire life.
The comic shop smelled like paper and dust, that particular aroma only old comics can make, and tucked in the corner was a glowing machine that looked like something from another world. The marquee read Space Wars. The game itself was simple: two ships battling in the void, each player trying to outmaneuver the other while a tiny gravitational star pulled everything toward oblivion.
From a technical standpoint, Space Wars was revolutionary. It used vector graphics, sharp glowing lines drawn directly by an electron beam instead of pixels. But what I remember most wasn’t the technology, it was the sound. Deep, satisfying explosions that echoed through the game’s single speaker, each blast accompanied by a click of the control buttons that felt mechanical, heavy, important. Each quarter bought only a brief moment of play, a small slice of escape, but those moments were magic.
I can still recall the rhythmic tapping of the buttons, the same click I sometimes hear in my mind when I type today. Maybe that’s why writing has always been both comforting and dangerous for me. That day, Space Wars didn’t just hook me; it rewired me. It was joy, escape, and control all at once. A few days later, I was dreaming about the game, replaying the sounds in my head. By that Friday, I was back at the shop, quarters in hand. I didn’t know it yet, but I had taken my first hit of something I’d spend a lifetime chasing.
The Paper Route and the Atari 2600
My sister bought me an Atari 2600 for Christmas in 1977, and that sealed the deal. Suddenly, I didn’t have to go anywhere for my fix, the games had come home. My paper route became less about responsibility and more about funding my growing need for digital odyssey.
I started with Adventure and Combat, two of the earliest and most defining titles. Adventure was a revelation: the idea of exploring a world, finding hidden objects, and solving puzzles without instructions felt like pure freedom. I solved it before cheat guides were even a thing. Combat was my social game — I’d rope anyone into playing, friends, neighbors, my sister. Every battle was one more hit of dopamine, one more reason to stay in.
At first, it felt harmless. But slowly, things began to shift. I wasn’t meeting friends outside anymore. I’d play before school, after school, all weekend. When I wasn’t playing, I was reading the backs of game boxes at Toys “R” Us, imagining what they’d feel like to play. There were no gaming magazines yet, so the box art and screenshots were my entire window into new worlds.
Looking back now, I can see the pattern forming, an early version of what psychologists today call Gaming Disorder. The World Health Organization defines it as the loss of control over gaming, prioritizing it above other life interests, and continuing despite negative consequences. That description might as well have been written about my teenage years.
Still, at the time, it didn’t feel like a problem. It felt like belonging.
From Radio to Atari: Validation Through Addiction
For a while, I managed to pull away. I fell in love with radio, my first real dream. The control board, the mics, the hum of the equipment, it was still about sound, but it was different. Then, when the radio job ended, I stumbled into a temporary gig testing video games for Atari. I figured it would pay the bills until I found another radio job. It turned out to be the perfect storm.
The test department was like an addiction incubator. Everyone lived and breathed games. We played all day at work, then played at home all night, then came in early to play again. We even had a name for it: game stamina. Those who couldn’t handle marathon sessions didn’t last long. Those who did were admired, or pitied, depending on who you asked.
When I moved from testing to production, my justification evolved. I told myself I was playing everything, for research. After all, how could you make great games without studying what was already out there? The higher my salary climbed, the more I fed the habit. New consoles, new games, imported cartridges — all “for work.”
But underneath it all, the addiction was hiding in plain sight. I wasn’t just playing. I was chasing the same sense of escape that Space Wars gave me back in that comic shop.
The irony was brutal: the industry I loved not only enabled my addiction but rewarded it. The more I played, the more valuable I became.
The Day Everything Went Dark
I don’t remember the impact as much as I remember the silence after it. One moment we were driving down the 405 freeway in Los Angeles, thinking about a sound effect I wanted to record for a project, and the next there was twisted metal and nothing but ringing. The car accident took away my sight, and in one brief, cruel instant, everything I had built around gaming — my career, my passion, my identity, was gone.
When the doctors told me the vision loss was permanent, I felt something close to disbelief, but it wasn’t denial. It was rage. Rage at the universe, at the driver who hit me, at my body for failing, and at the cruel irony that I, someone who built worlds meant to be seen, could no longer see them. The grief came later, but the rage was immediate and all-consuming.
For someone whose life had revolved around pixels, polygons, and screens, blindness was a forced exile. There were no support groups for “gamers who suddenly can’t game.” I tried to keep up for a while, following news about new consoles, upcoming releases, and reviews. But every headline felt like a twist of the knife. Reading about some brilliant new title I’d never experience was unbearable. It was like watching your friends go to a concert you’d been waiting for all year — and realizing you’ll never hear the band again.
Eventually, I stopped reading. I stopped talking to people from the industry. I shut it all out.
Cold Turkey
In addiction recovery, they talk about withdrawal. With gaming, it’s harder to explain, there’s no hangover, no shakes, no physical detox. But the mental toll? It’s brutal. I dreamed about games every night for years. I’d wake up and for a split second, I’d forget I was blind. I’d reach for the imaginary controller, feel the phantom buttons beneath my fingers, then open my eyes to darkness.
I avoided arcades, game stores, even movie theaters, anywhere that familiar 8-bit soundtrack might ambush me. But the world had other ideas. One day I walked past a pizza parlor, and there it was — the Dig Dug attract mode. That familiar boop-boop rhythm. I froze. That game, that sound, it was in every arcade I’d ever loved. I stood there, listening, and it felt like someone was peeling away the scab on a wound I thought had healed.
Rage first. Then grief. Then a kind of hollow acceptance. I had to live with the fact that the one thing that had always brought me joy now only caused pain.
Two Decades of Silence
I intentionally cut everyone connected to gaming out of my life. I didn’t want the reminders — the nostalgia, the “remember when” conversations. Friends would reach out, but I couldn’t bear to hear about new games or consoles. I wanted to move on, but it felt like I had amputated part of my soul.
The dreams continued for nearly ten years. Every night, some new variation of the same thing — playing, competing, exploring worlds I could no longer see. My subconscious wouldn’t let me escape.
The World Health Organization’s research on Gaming Disorder talks about how the same reward systems in the brain light up for gaming as they do for substances — dopamine, anticipation, the high of progress. I didn’t need a study to tell me that. My brain had been trained since that first coin drop to chase reward through games. When that was gone, there was nothing to replace it.
That emptiness is the quietest kind of addiction — one that doesn’t kill you, but leaves you standing still while life moves on.
The Return: Portland Retro Gaming Expo
More than twenty years later, I got a call from an old friend, someone I’d worked with back in the Atari and Accolade days. He said there was going to be a 30th anniversary celebration for the Jaguar system, and he wanted me to join a panel. I said no without hesitation.
But he kept asking.
Eventually, I said yes, more out of exhaustion than excitement. I told myself it would be one quick panel, then back to silence.
The moment I stepped onto the Portland Retro Gaming Expo floor, I knew I had made a mistake. The sound hit me first — hundreds of arcade cabinets, all alive at once. The Asteroids explosions, the Pac-Man chomp, and then, like a cruel joke, the attract mode for Dig Dug. That sound had followed me for decades, and here it was again. My heart sank. I felt like the world was reminding me what I’d lost.
Still, I did the panel. I talked about Tempest 2000, Kasumi Ninja, Test Drive Offroad, the long nights of debugging and deadlines, and the joy of seeing players connect with something you built. Afterward, people came up to thank me. They shared stories of how my games shaped their childhoods, their friendships, even their careers. I listened, smiled, and thanked them — all while fighting back the sting of knowing I could never again share that same experience.
But something else happened too. For the first time in years, I felt a strange kind of peace. Maybe the games I made were still doing their job. Maybe I didn’t have to play them anymore — maybe creating them had been enough.
The Bittersweet Aftermath
Since that day, I’ve attended more conventions, spoken on more panels, and reconnected with the community I thought I’d lost forever. It’s still hard — every time I walk into the free arcade area, it feels like walking into a liquor store where every drink is free, but you can’t have a single sip. The nostalgia is intoxicating, but also painful.
The sounds are the hardest. The hum of a CRT monitor, the coin return clink, even the smell of popcorn in the air — all of it takes me back to the arcades where it all began. The sensory memory is so strong that I can still feel the joystick under my hand. The difference is, now I’m a spectator in a world that used to be mine.
When the ache gets too strong, I tell fans something simple: “Go play a game for me.” I tell them to walk over to a Dig Dug machine and play one round while I listen. In that moment, I can live through their joy — the same joy I used to chase.
Everything Happens for a Reason
My mom used to tell me that everything happens for a reason. I didn’t believe her for a long time. But looking back now, I can see how the loss that once destroyed me eventually opened a new path. Losing my sight forced me to find a new way to see.
Today, alongside my wife I create tactile art, photography that can be felt through touch. The process lets people who are blind or visually impaired experience images in a new way. It’s the closest thing to giving sight back, not through eyes, but through hands. Maybe this was the reason all along — that I had to lose one way of seeing to discover another.
Still, the wound never fully heals. Every retro gaming expo is a reminder of both what I lost and what I gained. When I hear those familiar bleeps and explosions, it still hurts. But now, the pain sits beside gratitude.
Because for all the years I spent playing, making, and losing games, I learned something that transcends them all: the power of creation, the resilience of memory, and the beauty of connection — even when the screen goes dark.
“Traveling, without sight, is an extraordinary journey of exploration. In the quiet footsteps and whispered winds, you discover a world painted in sensations—the warmth of sun-kissed stones, the rhythm of bustling streets, and the symphony of unfamiliar voices. Each tactile map, each shared laughter, becomes a constellation of memories etched upon your soul. In the vastness of the unknown, you find not darkness, but a canvas waiting for your touch—a masterpiece woven from courage, resilience, and the sheer wonder of exploration.” – Ted Tahquechi
About the author
Ted Tahquechi is a blind photographer, travel influencer, disability advocate and photo educator based in Denver, Colorado. You can see more of Ted’s work at www.tahquechi.com
Ted operates Blind Travels, a travel blog designed specifically to empower blind and visually impaired travelers. https://www.blindtravels.com/
Ted’s body-positive Landscapes of the Body project has been shown all over the world, learn more about this intriguing collection of photographic work at: https://www.bodyscapes.photography/
Ted created games for Atari, Accolade and Mattel Toys and often speaks at Retro Game Cons, find out where he will be speaking next: https://retrogamegurus.com/ted
Questions or comments? Feel free to email Ted at: nedskee@tahquechi.com
Instagram: @nedskee
BlueSky: https://bsky.app/profile/nedskee.bsky.social
Twitter: @nedskee
New Article: Three Questions with a Blind Traveler – Inappropriate Memes Explained
We’ve all seen them—those crude memes about blindness that pop up online. While some may laugh, others genuinely wonder about the questions behind them. Our latest Three Questions with a Blind Traveler article takes on three of the most common: Who picks up guide dog poo? How do blind people know when to stop wiping? and How do you find a blind man on a nude beach? The answers may surprise you, and hopefully educate too. Humor can open doors—this article shows how. [Read the full article here!]
Three Questions with a Blind Traveler: Inappropriate Memes Explained
Don’t Pack That! TSA’s New Rules for Cordless Hair Tools
Holiday travel season is right around the corner, and as always, new Transportation Security Administration (TSA) updates can add confusion to an already stressful process. One of the latest changes may not affect a large percentage of blind or low vision travelers, but it’s worth knowing so you’re not caught off guard at the checkpoint or stuck replacing an expensive tool at your destination.
What Changed?
TSA has clarified that cordless curling irons, straighteners, and other hair tools powered by gas/butane cartridges or lithium batteries are not allowed in checked luggage. These devices are considered a potential fire hazard in the cargo hold.
If you use one of these devices, here’s the short version:
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Carry-on only: You may bring one cordless hair tool in your carry-on bag.
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Safety required: It must have a safety cover over the heating element and be protected from accidentally turning on.
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No spares: Extra gas cartridges or fuel refills are strictly prohibited.
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Corded tools: If your device plugs into the wall, you’re in the clear—corded versions are allowed in both carry-on and checked bags.
International Travelers—Know the Difference
While U.S. regulations restrict these tools to carry-on bags only, many international guidelines (like the International Air Transport Association’s model rules or the U.K. Civil Aviation Authority) still allow gas-powered hair tools in both carry-on and checked luggage, provided there’s a safety cover and no spare cartridges.
This means that if your trip starts outside the U.S., you might see conflicting information. To stay safe—and avoid losing your tool at the U.S. checkpoint—follow the stricter TSA rules.
What Happens if You Forget?
If TSA finds a cordless gas or battery hair tool in your checked bag, it will be removed and treated as hazardous material by the airline. In other words, you won’t get it back. This isn’t just a “rule suggestion”—expect to lose your item if you don’t follow the carry-on only requirement.
Safer Alternatives for Travelers
For many of us, grooming tools aren’t a top priority while traveling, but if you do like to style your hair on the go, here are some safer bets:
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Corded, dual-voltage travel versions: Compact and plug straight into the wall. A universal adapter can make these work almost anywhere.
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Heatless curlers or flexi-rods: Lightweight and TSA-friendly with zero restrictions.
When in doubt, simpler tools mean fewer surprises at the checkpoint.
A Note for Blind and Low Vision Travelers
Getting through security can already feel like running a gauntlet. We often seem to get “randomly” pulled for additional screening, and the last thing anyone needs is a surprise confiscation. If you’re unsure about a particular item, TSA offers two helpful services:
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TSA Cares: Call ahead or request a Passenger Support Specialist to assist you through security.
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AskTSA via text or social media: Text “TRAVEL” to 275-872 for quick answers about what you can pack.
Why This Matters
Even if you don’t use these products yourself, chances are someone in your traveling party might. This isn’t a widely known rule, so help spread the word to avoid delays and last-minute headaches.
Bottom line: If your hair tool is cordless and powered by gas or batteries, it belongs in your carry-on—never in checked baggage. Corded tools are the hassle-free alternative.
Keep checking back here on Blind Travels—we’ll keep you updated as new TSA changes roll out, especially as holiday travel ramps up.
See you at the gate!
-Ted and Fauna
A Bright Idea: Getting Your Server’s Attention Without Waving Your Arms Around
Let’s talk about something simple that can drive blind and low vision travelers quietly bonkers: getting a server’s attention in a restaurant.
Now, if you’re sighted (or more appropriately, a sighted ally), you might take this for granted. You see your server, they make eye contact, you give them the subtle nod or little hand raise, and bam, extra fries on the way. But if you’re blind or low vision like me, that entire exchange is off the table. There’s no subtle nod when you can’t see where your server is or if they’re even looking at you.
And shouting across the dining room? No thanks. I’ve got enough stories that start with “So I raised my voice and immediately everyone turned and stared…”
So what’s a polite, non-disruptive traveler to do?
Before Our Cruise, We Got Creative
Before a recent cruise, my wife and I knew we’d be eating at a lot of sit-down restaurants, and I was already dreading the awkward waving, “excuse me” shouting, or those moments where you just know your server passed by three times while you sat there trying to time it right.
So I came up with a super simple, ridiculously effective solution.
I bought a light.
Yup, just a little wearable light with a sliding on/off switch. And before you roll your eyes or imagine me wearing one of those seizure-inducing rave bracelets, hang tight. This is a sleek, low-cost, simple LED bracelet you can get a pack of on Amazon for a few bucks.
It uses a slider switch, which is key. A push button might leave you guessing whether it’s on or off. But a slider? It gives you tactile feedback. Slide it on, you feel the click. You know it’s on. Slide it off, it’s off. Simple.
I don’t even wear it, it can go on a napkin, on the corner of the table, or clipped to your menu. The point is: it’s a visual cue that says, “Hey, when you’ve got a moment, I’d love your attention.”
And guess what? It worked beautifully.
The Waitstaff Loved It
On our cruise, we explained the system to our server on the first night. I said:
“Hey, just so you know, when I flip on this little light, it’s just to let you know we could use a hand. Since I can’t see where you are, I figured this would be an easier way to signal than waving around or trying to catch your eye.”
Not only was he immediately on board, but he actually thanked us. It made his job easier, especially in a busy dining room where he couldn’t always tell who needed help. By the second night, he already knew the drill and would smile and swing by as soon as the light went on.
At the end of the trip, we tipped him well (as we always do), and he said he was going to recommend it to another guest he knew who was visually impaired. That was the “aha” moment, I knew this was something more people needed to hear about.
I even gave him a stack of five on that last evening, because they are cheap and I like to pay things forward and spread the word about something that makes life for those in the blind and low vision community easier.
Why It Works So Well
Let’s break it down. Here’s why this little glowing gadget is a win:
- Tactile Confidence: You can feel when it’s on or off. No second-guessing.
- Non-disruptive: No waving, yelling, or awkward moments.
- Low cost, low risk: If you lose it or forget it at the table, it won’t break your heart.
- Universal signal: A light is easy for anyone to understand, it doesn’t require explanation mid-meal.
- Small and portable: Toss it in your pocket or bag and you’re set for the whole trip.
Other Options That Can Work (But We Like Ours Best)
Of course, there are other ways blind and low vision diners handle this. Here are a few alternatives that may help, depending on your comfort level and the environment:
- Verbally alerting the server in advance: Let them know when you first sit down that you’ll call their name if you need them.
- Positioning objects: Some folks will tilt their menu upright, place their utensils a certain way, or use specific hand gestures. These techniques can work, but they depend on the server being trained or observant.
- Asking for timed check-ins: Some travelers request their server swing by every so often whether or not they’re called, like a 15-minute check.
- Using tech like Aira or Be My Eyes: These apps can help describe your environment, but that’s a lot of coordination just to get a second glass of iced tea.
All of those are valid, and everyone’s preferences are different. But for us? The light just… works. It’s simple, easy to use, and it blends into the dining experience without being distracting or drawing unwanted attention.
Tips for Using the Light with Grace
Here’s how to make the most of it without confusing the restaurant staff:
- Explain early. When you’re seated or your server first introduces themselves, take 15 seconds to explain: “Hi, I’m blind, and I use this little light to let you know when I could use some help. It’s just easier than me trying to get your attention without being able to see you.”
- Be polite but confident. Your tone sets the tone. If you’re relaxed and kind about it, your server will reflect that.
- Use it sparingly. Don’t leave it on the whole meal. Flick it on when needed, off when you’ve been helped. It becomes a more useful signal that way.
- Be a good diner. Kindness, patience, and tipping well go a long way to making servers open to new ideas like this.
Where to Get One
We use this one from Amazon because it checks all the boxes, slider switch, cheap, simple, bright. You’ll get a bunch in a pack, and even if one breaks or gets left behind, you’re covered.
This is one of those ideas that genuinely made our travels smoother, and I wanted to share it with the Blind Travels community. It’s a tiny trick that has a big impact.
So the next time you’re headed to a cruise, a nice dinner, or even just your neighborhood café, pack a little glow. You might find it lights up more than just the table.
Final Thoughts
Have you tried alternative methods to get your server’s attention in a restaurant? I’d love to hear how you solved this riddle that has been plaguing the low vision community for ages. Feel free to drop me a message here or connect with me on social media at the links below
See you at the Gate!
-Ted and Fauna
“Traveling, without sight, is an extraordinary journey of exploration. In the quiet footsteps and whispered winds, you discover a world painted in sensations—the warmth of sun-kissed stones, the rhythm of bustling streets, and the symphony of unfamiliar voices. Each tactile map, each shared laughter, becomes a constellation of memories etched upon your soul. In the vastness of the unknown, you find not darkness, but a canvas waiting for your touch—a masterpiece woven from courage, resilience, and the sheer wonder of exploration.” – Ted Tahquechi
About the author
Ted Tahquechi is a blind photographer, travel influencer, disability advocate and photo educator based in Denver, Colorado. You can see more of Ted’s work at www.tahquechi.com
Ted operates Blind Travels, a travel blog designed specifically to empower blind and visually impaired travelers. https://www.blindtravels.com/
Ted’s body-positive Landscapes of the Body project has been shown all over the world, learn more about this intriguing collection of photographic work at: https://www.bodyscapes.photography/
Questions or comments? Feel free to email Ted at: nedskee@tahquechi.com
Instagram: @nedskee
Twitter: @nedskee
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/nedskee.bsky.social
Disabled Art
My Wife’s accessible art project: Making visual art accessible for those who can’t see it. https://www.disabledart.com/
Summer Travel Vibes & Staying Ahead
Hey there, fellow traveler! Can you feel the buzz? Summer 2025 is rolling in, and airports are humming with excited vacationers, families on road-trips-in-the-sky, and all of us chasing adventures under the warm rays of the season. As a blind or low-vision traveler, each sunny departure brings that familiar thrill… and yes, a few butterflies about how changes in airline policies might trip us up.
That’s why I’m so glad you’re here—keeping up with those under-the-radar updates that can make or break a smooth journey. Let’s unpack eight key shifts happening this summer, from hidden surcharges to new boarding rules, all through the lens of someone who travels without relying on sight.
- Solo Traveler Surcharge: Yes, Really 💸
Okay, this one hit hard. Earlier this summer, travel bloggers and fare watchdogs started raising red flags: airlines charging more for one-way flights if you’re flying solo.
I mean, come on, how did this sneak in?
- Delta was the first to tip the scales: search for two passengers, and the fare dropped about 70% from the price of a single ticket. It wasn’t a glitch, it was baked into the fare rules, with fine print stating, “Must be accompanied… by at least one adult” viewfromthewing.com+1frequentmiler.com+1.
- United and American weren’t immune, they quietly introduced similar “solo traveler” premiums thriftytraveler.com.
- The rationale? Airlines think solo flyers are either business travelers or unswayed by price, so they can slap on extra charges to boost revenue.
This hits blind and low-vision travelers hard: needing assistance or booking early often means buying single fares. I did a test on Google Flights—solo from Atlanta to L.A.? $249. Booking for two? $159 each. Surprise cost: $90 just because I flew alone.
But here’s the silver lining…
Public uproar grew fast, within a week, Delta and United reversed course, tossing those sneaky fare rules en.wikipedia.org+10thriftytraveler.com+10frequentmiler.com+10. American? Still holding firm… for now. So, next time you’re booking, here’s a pro tip:
Always compare “1 passenger” vs “2 passengers”, you might find a hidden bargain.
- United’s 45-Minute Check-In Cutoff
Another curveball: United now requires all domestic flyers to check in at least 45 minutes before departure—no exceptions, no gate-agent overrides ctinsider.com+9apnews.com+9yahoo.com+9.
Here’s the deal:
- As of June 3, whether you’re check-bagging or traveling light, check-in closes 45 minutes prior.
- That’s 15 minutes earlier than before for carry-ons, and in line with bag-deadlines.
- Miss it? They may not let you board—and there’s no appealing to a staff member.
For blind and low-vision travelers, that’s a biggie. If you rely on offline or assisted check-in, aim to do it well in advance—and don’t arrive with less than an hour to spare.
- Southwest Says Goodbye to Open Seating
Southwest is mixing things up (again):
- Starting May 28, the airline is adding fees for the first checked bag, though some Chase cardholders get a freebie.
- Travel credits? They’ll now expire after six months or a year, depending on your fare—no more credits that live forever.
- Early 2026 brings the big shift: bye-bye open boarding, hello assigned seats.
Some people miss the A/B/C stampede; I actually liked it, especially for securing space and scanning the environment early. But for low-vision travelers, a guaranteed seat and boarding order might offer more certainty, even if it means paying extra for selection.
- Power Banks: Keep Them Within Reach
Heads-up: airlines are tightening power-bank rules:
- Pack those power banks in carry-on only, no dumping them in checked bags or containers.
- Southwest now requires portable chargers to be visible and within reach, in case crew need to inspect them mid-flight.
For many of us, audio devices, screen-readers, and accessible tech are lifelines. Keep your power bank tucked into your personal item, reachable, accessible, and from a trustworthy brand.
- Shrinking Transatlantic & Canada-US Flights
This summer, we’re seeing fewer flights between the U.S. and Canada (-33%) or Europe (-10%) compared to last year.
Airlines like Lufthansa, BA, Air France, KLM, WestJet, and Air Canada are trimming U.S. routes to focus on regions closer to home. What this means for us:
- Fewer direct route options, longer travel times, and potentially higher costs.
- For international roamers or U.S. returnees, plan early—flexibility may cost more.
- United–JetBlue Alliance: A Win for Us ✈️
In brighter news: United and JetBlue are launching a partnership this fall.
- Book on either site, earn or spend rewards across both airlines.
- Maintain elite status perks (priority boarding, baggage) no matter whose metal you’re flying.
- Joint flights at JFK make transfers smoother.
This is great for accessible travel planning—better route options, more backup choices, and consistent service for those of us who rely on assistance.
- ETA Requirement Arrives for UK Visitors
New policy in play: U.S. (and Canadian) travelers must apply for a UK ETA—a digital visa of sorts—before traveling.
- Cost: £16 (~$18), valid for multiple trips over two years.
- Apply via UK government website or app.
- Approval usually arrives within a few days.
- ETA is separate from the EU’s delayed ETIAS (still not happening before late 2026).
If you need help managing forms, confirmations, or digital steps, consider assistance early—especially for ticketing and boarding.
- Turkey’s New “Seatbelt or Fine” Rule
Landing in Turkey? Head’s up: taxi-to-gate seatbelt rule:
- You must stay seated with seatbelt on until the sign is OFF after landing.
- Flight attendants report any violators—and authorities can impose fines from hundreds to thousands of dollars.
As a traveler who might stand for orientation or ease, this one requires a mindset reset. Stay seated until that seatbelt light goes off, even if your aide is waiting to guide you through the crowd. In general this is a great new rule as it might reduce the stampede that happens every time the flight lands.
What All This Means for Us
- Fare check: Look at both solo and group prices to avoid hidden fees.
- Check-in buffer: Leave early—especially with United’s new 45-minute rule.
- Power bank stashing: In personal item, not packed away. I always suggest packing a smaller bag inside your carry on with the power banks and other tech goodies, especially if it is a larger roller style carry on that you can quickly pull out and keep with you. As a bonus add snacks and other in-flight items you may need.
- Southwest seat plan: Decide if it’s worth paying for assigned seats.
- ETA early: Apply for UK travel days before departure.
- Turkey seatbelt: Stay buckled until drumroll seatbelt sign goes off.
- Explore UA–JetBlue: Use alliance perks for smoother travel.
Final Thoughts
Traveling sight-impaired is already an adventure; policy shifts shouldn’t rain on the parade. By staying alert, savvy, and a bit proactive, we can keep soaring smoothly—even when airlines try to change the rules mid-game.
Here’s to a bright summer backlit by big skies and accessible adventures. If any of these updates feel like a struggle, or you want a deeper dive on accommodation needs, assist protocols, or planning tools, I’m here to help.
Do you have a travel tip or travel news that you think my readers would be interested in Feel free to drop me a message here on Blind Travels or on my socials linked below. Additionally, if you would like more information on the topics mentioned here, find the resources links below.
See you at the gate!
-Ted and Fauna
Sources for “8 Air Travel Changes Coming Summer 2025”
- Solo Traveler Surcharge
- Thrifty Traveler. “Delta Is Quietly Charging Solo Travelers More on Some Routes.” (May 2024)
https://thriftytraveler.com/news/airlines/delta-solo-traveler-surcharge - Forbes. “Delta Drops Controversial Solo Traveler Surcharge After Backlash.” (June 2024)
https://www.forbes.com/sites/gergelyorosz/2024/06/07/delta-solo-travel-fee-dropped
- Thrifty Traveler. “Delta Is Quietly Charging Solo Travelers More on Some Routes.” (May 2024)
- United Airlines 45-Minute Check-In Rule
- United Airlines Travel Notices. “Check-in Requirements & Cutoff Times.” (Effective June 3, 2025)
https://www.united.com/en/us/checkin
- United Airlines Travel Notices. “Check-in Requirements & Cutoff Times.” (Effective June 3, 2025)
- Southwest Airlines Changes
- Southwest Airlines Newsroom. “Bags Fly Free Changes & Travel Credit Expiration Policy.” (April 2025)
https://www.southwest.com/html/about-southwest/newsroom - View From The Wing. “Southwest To Assign Seats in 2026.” (May 2025)
https://viewfromthewing.com
- Southwest Airlines Newsroom. “Bags Fly Free Changes & Travel Credit Expiration Policy.” (April 2025)
- Power Bank Storage Rule
- TSA.gov. “Portable Chargers and Power Banks.”
https://www.tsa.gov/travel/security-screening/whatcanibring/items/portable-chargers-or-power-banks - Southwest Airlines Baggage Policy. Updated May 2025
https://www.southwest.com/help/baggage
- TSA.gov. “Portable Chargers and Power Banks.”
- Decline in Transatlantic and Canada–U.S. Flights
- CBC News. “Air Canada Reduces US Routes Due to Low Demand.” (April 2025)
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/air-canada-cuts-us-routes - Reuters. “Lufthansa, BA Reduce U.S. Flights as Demand Shifts.” (March 2025)
https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/airlines-cut-us-capacity-2025
- CBC News. “Air Canada Reduces US Routes Due to Low Demand.” (April 2025)
- United and JetBlue Partnership
- United Airlines Press Release. “MileagePlus Partnership with JetBlue Launching Fall 2025.”
https://hub.united.com - JetBlue Media Center. “JetBlue–United Loyalty and Booking Integration.”
https://news.jetblue.com
- United Airlines Press Release. “MileagePlus Partnership with JetBlue Launching Fall 2025.”
- UK ETA Requirement
- UK Home Office. “Electronic Travel Authorisation (ETA) for Visitors to the UK.”
https://www.gov.uk/guidance/electronic-travel-authorisation-eta - The Independent. “UK’s New ETA Scheme for U.S. Travelers Explained.” (May 2025)
https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/news-and-advice/uk-eta-travel-visa-us-citizens
- UK Home Office. “Electronic Travel Authorisation (ETA) for Visitors to the UK.”
- Seatbelt Enforcement and Fines in Turkey
- Turkish Directorate General of Civil Aviation (SHGM). “New Passenger Conduct Fines Enforced.”
https://web.shgm.gov.tr - Simple Flying. “Turkey Fining Passengers Who Stand Up Before Seatbelt Sign Is Off.” (April 2025)
https://simpleflying.com/turkey-passenger-fines-seatbelt
- Turkish Directorate General of Civil Aviation (SHGM). “New Passenger Conduct Fines Enforced.”
“Traveling, without sight, is an extraordinary journey of exploration. In the quiet footsteps and whispered winds, you discover a world painted in sensations—the warmth of sun-kissed stones, the rhythm of bustling streets, and the symphony of unfamiliar voices. Each tactile map, each shared laughter, becomes a constellation of memories etched upon your soul. In the vastness of the unknown, you find not darkness, but a canvas waiting for your touch—a masterpiece woven from courage, resilience, and the sheer wonder of exploration.” – Ted Tahquechi
About the author
Ted Tahquechi is a blind photographer, travel influencer, disability advocate and photo educator based in Denver, Colorado. You can see more of Ted’s work at www.tahquechi.com
Ted operates Blind Travels, a travel blog designed specifically to empower blind and visually impaired travelers. https://www.blindtravels.com/
Ted’s body-positive Landscapes of the Body project has been shown all over the world, learn more about this intriguing collection of photographic work at: https://www.bodyscapes.photography/
Questions or comments? Feel free to email Ted at: nedskee@tahquechi.com
Instagram: @nedskee
Twitter: @nedskee
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/nedskee.bsky.social
Disabled Art
My Wife’s accessible art project: Making visual art accessible for those who can’t see it. https://www.disabledart.com/
Moab for Blind Travelers – Where the Rocks Have Personality
Who needs sweeping vistas when the rocks are whispering your name? Seriously, if you’ve never been hugged by a warm slab of sunbaked sandstone, you haven’t really lived. Moab, Utah, is one of those places that proves beauty doesn’t require eyesight—just a sense of curiosity, a sturdy pair of shoes, and in my case, a guide dog named Fauna.
We actually went to Moab twice. The first time was in August, and I quickly realized it was a bit too hot for Fauna to safely tag along. Rock surfaces were easily over 100 degrees, which made it a solo trip for me that time. Don’t get me wrong, I still soaked in the texture and sound of the place—but it felt like something was missing. So we went back again in the fall. This time, the cooler weather, the crunch of changing leaves, and having Fauna by my side made it the perfect trip. This article is a sensory travelogue through red rock country, designed to help blind and low vision travelers embrace Moab beyond the brochure photos.
What Makes Moab a Tactile Paradise
Moab isn’t just scenery—it’s a full-body experience. The sandstone here is coarse, warm, and incredibly satisfying to touch. Running your hands along the rock face feels like tracing the earth’s own fingerprint. The contrast of shaded canyon crevices against sun-drenched plateaus is like walking between two seasons.
Then there’s the soundscape: birds in the morning, wind sighing across the mesas, and the delicious echo of your footsteps inside a canyon. For those of us who navigate the world by ear, Moab is basically the surround sound version of nature.
Touch, sound, smell—they all come together here. And yes, sometimes even taste. Just don’t lick anything without consent. Desert air has a way of sneaking into your mouth like it owns the place.
Getting There Without Losing Your Mind (or Dog Treats)
If you have a driver in your group, you can fly into Grand Junction, Colorado, or Salt Lake City, Utah, and rent a car for the final leg. It’s about a three- and half-hour drive from either landing spot. Moab is remote, which adds to the adventure but means planning ahead is crucial. The town itself is charming, manageable, and mostly accessible—although the sidewalk layouts sometimes feel like an M.C. Escher drawing.
Fauna’s Travel Notes:
- “10 out of 10 would sniff here again.”
- The terrain is paw-friendly in the fall, but summer? No way. Rock temps over 100°F are a no-go.
- Plan travel in the cooler months—October was ideal for us.
My Gear Bag
If you are headed to Moab, remember that this is high desert and planning ahead with a few essentials can save you a trip to the store when you arrive. Besides my camera, here are a few things that I pack for every trip regardless of how much I will be hiking.
A good hat. I love to wander outside, and I learned early on that the tops of my ears tend to get sunburned easily, so I started wearing a hat when wandering. At first, I went the cheaper route, buying a new hat every season, and never being happy with them. I finally asked for a Tilley hat for my birthday one year, and I have never looked back. This is the one I have been using for years. The hat has vents on the top which keeps the top of your head cool, it folds up in your suitcase easily and spring back to shape when you get to your destination, and there is even a little Velcro pouch inside, which I have used for room keys, and a “return if found” note. Not sponsored, if I lost my hat today I would but another of this same type. Note: they can be thrown into the washer and come out great.
CamelBak Rogue Hydration Pack:
It’s a backpack you fill with water. You don’t have to carry water bottles, and it does a great job keeping things cold all day. This is another thing that I have bought plenty of, I spent money on off-brand packs only to have them discontinued and need another internal insert. CamelBak has been around forever, and their replacement bladders are easy to find online or in sporting goods shops. There are a few pockets for snacks and a foldable dog bowl. The tube that you drink from is also replaceable and clips in a good spot when wandering with a guide dog.
Anker 621 magnetic phone charger.
Using accessible apps drains you phone battery super fast. I always carry a couple of these Anker batteries with me. They attach with a magnet on the back of your phone for wireless charging.
Accessible Adventures for Hands-On Explorers
Moab offers more than just photo ops. Here are my favorite tactile-friendly hikes and landmarks:
- Grandstaff Trail: Shady and full of texture, this moderate hike offers tactile diversity. You’ll cross wooden bridges, touch rocky overhangs, and hear the gentle stream alongside.
- Dead Horse Point Overlook: A paved path with rails that lets you experience open space, breezes, and an almost cinematic echo. Great for practicing echolocation or just leaning into the wind.
- Arches National Park: While not every trail is accessible, the park does offer ranger-led audio tours and paved sections like the Park Avenue trail that are manageable with a cane or guide dog.
What to Pack:
- Sun protection (hat, glasses, sunscreen)
- Water bottle or hydration pack
- Snacks for you and your pup
- Footwear with good tread
Elevation changes mean the air feels different. Thinner, drier—like nature took a sponge to your lungs. Go slow and enjoy the shift.
Moab’s Soundtrack – A Symphony of Canyons and Critters
The auditory landscape in Moab is spectacular:
- Canyon Echoes: Your footsteps turn into percussion instruments.
- Desert Birds: Chirpy, cheerful, and occasionally sassier than they should be.
- Wind: Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it shouts.
Want to capture it? Use apps like Voice Memos or Hindenburg Field Recorder. I brought a portable recorder and caught some amazing canyon acoustics. Pro tip: record at dawn when it’s quietest.
Tactile Tourism—Savoring Without Seeing
Moab has plenty of spots that engage more than your sight:
- Restaurants: Try local BBQ joints or food trucks. The textures of spicy tacos and crisp slaw are fantastic.
- Shops and Galleries: Many feature stone sculptures or woven items. We found many of them touch-friendly and welcoming.
- Photography Tours: Be aware—most are expensive ($250–$500) and designed for sighted beginners. If you already know your camera, these may not be worth it.
Want to skip the sticky braille menus? Just ask for a verbal rundown and enjoy the hospitality—most staff are happy to accommodate with a smile (and maybe a cookie).
Descriptive Tours and Audio Awesomeness
The National Park Service does offer some guided audio experiences. However, the off-road tour scene was disappointing. Jeep and Hummer adventures are iconic in Moab, but none of the companies I contacted were open to blind or low vision riders. I even offered to help them design an audio-described tour, but no one was interested.
That said, you can still create your own experience:
- Bring a descriptive travel companion.
- Use your smartphone and narration apps. Internet service is spotty in most of the parks so have your sighted companion help you snap some pics and use an Ai describer like aira later to get the details.
- Record your impressions as you go—turn your trip into a story.
Sometimes the best descriptions come from noticing what others overlook.
Sightlines are Overrated
Moab isn’t just about what you see. It’s what you touch, hear, and feel. From sandstone that leaves grit on your fingers to canyons that talk back, this place rewards curiosity and attentiveness over eyesight.
Traveling here twice showed me the value of timing, texture, and partnership. Having Fauna with me in the fall—with leaves underfoot and wind in our faces—made Moab come alive.
So go ahead. Touch the rocks. Record an echo. Let your dog choose the trail. Moab has plenty to show you, even if you don’t look.
Reader Challenge: What’s the most memorable place you’ve felt instead of seen? Share your story in the comments or tag me on Instagram @nedskee with your favorite sensory travel moment!
See you at the gate,
—Ted & Fauna 🐾🧳
“Traveling, without sight, is an extraordinary journey of exploration. In the quiet footsteps and whispered winds, you discover a world painted in sensations—the warmth of sun-kissed stones, the rhythm of bustling streets, and the symphony of unfamiliar voices. Each tactile map, each shared laughter, becomes a constellation of memories etched upon your soul. In the vastness of the unknown, you find not darkness, but a canvas waiting for your touch—a masterpiece woven from courage, resilience, and the sheer wonder of exploration.” – Ted Tahquechi
About the author
Ted Tahquechi is a blind photographer, travel influencer, disability advocate and photo educator based in Denver, Colorado. You can see more of Ted’s work at www.tahquechi.com
Ted operates Blind Travels, a travel blog designed specifically to empower blind and visually impaired travelers. https://www.blindtravels.com/
Ted’s body-positive Landscapes of the Body project has been shown all over the world, learn more about this intriguing collection of photographic work at: https://www.bodyscapes.photography/
Ted created games for Atari, Accolade and Mattel Toys and often speaks at Retro Game Cons, find out where he will be speaking next: https://retrogamegurus.com/ted
Questions or comments? Feel free to email Ted at: nedskee@tahquechi.com
Instagram: @nedskee
BlueSky: https://bsky.app/profile/nedskee.bsky.social
Twitter: @nedskee
Hotel Hacks for Blind and Low Vision Travelers
Stepping into a fresh hotel room as a blind traveler can feel like arriving at a mini adventure destination. The carpet’s texture changes at the doorway, the AC unit hums softly from somewhere above, and your guide dog’s ears perk up at the new environment. With my guide dog Fauna by my side, I’ve made countless hotel rooms our home-away-from-home. Over time, I’ve picked up a treasure trove of hacks to conquer these unfamiliar spaces. In this post, I’ll share my full hotel arrival routine and practical tips to help blind and low vision travelers confidently navigate hotel rooms. We’ll blend tried-and-true advice (like mentally mapping the furniture or labeling toiletries with rubber bands)blindtravels.com with fresh, new hacks involving voice assistants, smartphone tricks, and even NFC tags. So, drop your bags, take a deep breath, and let’s dive into this room together this new space together.
Checking In and Room Selection: First Moves Matter
Even before I set foot in the room, I like to set myself up for success. Whenever possible, I request a hotel room a bit far from the elevator and noisy ice machines. Sure, it might add a few extra steps, but the trade-off is a quieter corridor with lower foot traffic – which means fewer people tramping past our door at midnight and less excitement for my guide dog. (Fauna really doesn’t need the extra temptation of strangers chatting right outside our door when she’s off duty!) This preference isn’t unique to blind travelers; many frequent travelers find that rooms away from the elevator tend to be more peaceful. A little extra walk is worth the tranquility and a better night’s rest for both me and my pup.
At check-in, don’t hesitate to ask for orientation help if offered. Many hotels will have a staff member or bellhop guide you to the room and even give a quick description of the layout – take advantage of this if you can. I’ll often have a staffer or my travel companion point out key landmarks as we enter: “Bed in the center, bathroom to the left, thermostat on the right wall,” etc. If you’re solo and no one volunteers a walkthrough, you can ask, “Would you mind giving me a quick orientation of the room?” It’s a reasonable request aligned with good accessibility practice (even the ADA suggests offering this)visionservealliance.org. And if no human guide is available, no worries – we’ve got strategies to orient ourselves independently, which I’ll cover next.
Claiming Your Territory: The Arrival Ritual
Once I step into the room (key card successfully wrangled – pro tip: I often put a small tactile sticker on one end of the card so I know which side goes into the door reader), I prop the door open for a moment with my foot or suitcase. This lets Fauna sniff around and also gives me a frame of reference (door = our starting point on the mental map). Now it’s time to mentally map the furniture and get the lay of the land. I jokingly call this my “tactile reconnaissance mission.”
Walk the room’s perimeter: I’ll trail the walls with the back of my hand or cane, discovering where the furniture lives. Bed jutting out in the middle? Desk against the far wall? TV stand or dresser opposite the bed? I find each major piece and note its position relative to the door. This is where a little memory trick kicks in: I imagine a clock face over the room. For example, as I enter, if the bed is straight ahead and slightly to the right, I log “bed at 1 o’clock from the door.” The bathroom door might be at 9 o’clock, the window at 3 o’clock, and so on. This mental map helps me navigate confidently later without bruising my shins on an unseen coffee table at 2 AM.
Count (or pace) key distances: Sometimes I’ll pace out the steps from the bed to the bathroom – e.g., five steps straight then door on the left – so those midnight bathroom runs are stress-free. I also locate potential “toe stubbers” (low tables, ottomans, stray luggage racks) and either push them flush against a wall or at least remember they exist. If Fauna is with me, I’ll also guide her around the space once or twice so she’s familiar with it – she’s part of the orientation team! We make a little game of finding the bed; I’ll pat the bed and say “bed”, and her mat always goes next to me on the floor, so she knows where her cozy spot will be. This is her safe space in the new room.
Finally, I do a quick safety sweep: check that windows are closed (unless I want them open), feel along the edges of the bed frame for sharp corners, note where the telephone and lamp are (usually on the nightstand). This initial five-minute routine of mapping and adjusting things is absolutely key. It turns an unknown room into a familiar, navigable space in my mind. Think of it as unpacking your awareness before you even unpack your suitcase.
Tactile Tricks: Organizing the Room Your Way
Once I know the room’s layout, I start tactilely customizing the space so it works for me. Here are some simple hacks I use to mark and organize things:
- Shoes or Slippers as Landmarks: This is a personal favorite. I use my shoes or the hotel’s slippers as little “beacons” or bumpers in the room. For example, if there’s a particularly confusing corner or a piece of furniture I might bump into, I’ll slide a shoe right at its base. Later, when walking around, my foot will hit the shoe a few inches before I accidentally kick the hard furniture – a gentle reminder: “Obstacle ahead!” Alternatively, at night I leave my slippers by the bedside oriented toward the bathroom; when I wake up, I can literally step into them and follow that orientation straight to the bathroom door. It’s a bit like Hansel and Gretel leaving breadcrumbs, except my breadcrumbs are size-10 sneakers. They’re easy to find with my feet and save me from fumbling around or banging into things in the dark. This is really one of my favorite tips.
- Toiletry Labeling with Rubber Bands: Hotel bathrooms often come with a row of mysterious small bottles – shampoo, conditioner, lotion… and they all feel identical. The last thing you want is to slather your hair with body lotion because you grabbed the wrong bottle! I fix this by labeling them with tactile cues as soon as I unpack. I’ll snag a couple of rubber bands from my suitcase (I always carry a few) and pop them around the bottles in distinct patterns. I will often leverage an Ai app like Aira or Be My Eyes to ensure which bottle contains what. When labeling, I will often use two rubber bands around the neck of the shampoo bottle, one band on the conditioner, leave the body wash plain. This way, each bottle is uniquely “coded” by touch. No more soapy surprises – even if the hotel uses those eco-friendly wall-mounted dispensers, you can often feel a subtle difference or mark one by tying a hair tie around the shampoo dispenser. If I’ve brought my own travel-size toiletries, I use the same method on them or use tactile stickers. As I like to say, everything feels like a tiny bottle of mystery until you give it a tactile label.
- Strategic Item Placement: Place key items in intuitive spots and always put them back in the same place. Consistency is king. For example, I designate the desk or a corner of the dresser as the “tech station” – that’s where I set up my phone charger, power bank, and Bluetooth speaker. I always plug my phone charger into the same outlet by the bed (usually the one nearest the pillow I choose) on every trip, and I charge my phone there each night. Why? Because come checkout time, I’ll instinctively reach there to grab the charger, reducing the chance of leaving it behind. The repetition from hotel to hotel builds muscle memory: Past Me remembers to help Future Me. In fact, I’ve trained myself that if my hand doesn’t feel a charger plugged in that familiar spot, something’s wrong – I probably already packed it or (gasp) lost it. This habit has saved me from forgetting countless chargers and cables.
- Guide Dog Gear Zone: If you travel with a guide dog like I do, it helps to set up a little station for your pup as well. I lay out Fauna’s gear (harness, leash, collapsible water bowl, food container) on a clean mat or towel in one corner of the room. I actually carry a small blanket that smells like home for her to lie on as mentioned earlier, it gives her a familiar resting spot in the new room. All her essentials stay in that zone. Not only does it comfort her, it also means I won’t trip over her food bowl in the middle of the night because it’s predictably placed. Plus, Fauna quickly learns where her “bed” is in the room, making it easier for both of us to move around without unintended tango with a black Lab underfoot.
By labeling, marking, and consistently placing items, I essentially convert a hotel room into my own accessible space. Everything has a place and a tactile identity. This reduces the mental load dramatically – I don’t have to think about where the water bottle or remote control is; I know I always leave it on this specific table or next to the TV. Setting up these tactile landmarks and organizational habits turns the room into a comfortable little world where I can function independently (and even half-asleep, I know what’s where). It’s all about making the unfamiliar, familiar.
Tech to the Rescue: Voice Assistants and Smart Navigation
Modern technology has been a game changer for blind travelers, and I love to enlist some gadgetry to assist me in hotel rooms. We live in an age of smart-everything, so why not let tech do some of the heavy lifting? Here are a few high-tech (and low effort) hacks to navigate your room:
- Voice-Assistant Devices (Alexa, Google Nest, Siri): Some hotels have jumped on the bandwagon of providing in-room voice assistants. If I find an Amazon Echo or Google Nest Hub in my room, I get a little giddy. These devices can do things like control the room lights or thermostat with voice commands, give me the weather, set wake-up alarms, or even call the front desk. If it’s there, by all means use it – it’s far easier to say, “Alexa, turn off the lights,” than to fumble for an elusive lamp switch at bedtime. On one trip, I stayed in a hotel that integrated Alexa with the room controls, and I could even ask “Alexa, where is the nearest ice machine?” and get an answer. Talk about service!
If the room doesn’t come equipped with a voice assistant, consider bringing your own portable smart speaker. I sometimes travel with a small Echo Dot. After connecting it to the hotel Wi-Fi (admittedly the hardest part since captive portals can be tricky), I have my familiar Alexa with me. This is especially useful for setting audio landmarks – e.g., I’ll make Alexa play a specific sound or radio station if I’m trying to locate something by ear (a bit of human echolocation with a tech twist). Even without a dedicated device, your smartphone’s voice assistant (Siri or Google Assistant) is a handy companion. I can say “Hey Siri, turn on the flashlight” if I need a quick light (for low vision folks), or “Hey Google, what’s nearby?” to get orientation info about nearby restaurants or stores for when I step outside. Voice tech provides a convenient layer of information on demand, and it’s all hands-free.
- Smartphone Camera Apps for Orientation: I use my phone’s camera like a second set of eyes with the help of AI apps. Two of my favorites: Microsoft Seeing AI and an app called Access AI (on iOS) – they can quickly describe what the camera sees. When I enter a new room, I might do a quick pan with Seeing AI’s Scene Preview or Short Text mode; it might catch printed signs like “Thermostat 68°F” or identify objects (“TV on dresser, window with closed curtains”). It’s not perfect, but it gives a rough idea. For more detail, I’ve used Aira (an app that connects you to a live human or AI assistant) to do a thorough virtual orientation. I’ll call an Aira agent, point my phone camera around, and have them verbally walk me through the room: “There’s a floor lamp in the far corner, a painting above the headboard, the AC controls are on the wall near the window.” This can reveal hidden details (like that pesky thermostat hiding behind a curtain or the remote tucked on top of the TV). Think of it as a live audio-described tour of your room.
- Using Tech to Remember Room Layout: As great as my mental map is, I sometimes like having a “backup” stored in my phone. I’ll snap a series of reference photos of the room – one from the doorway, one of the bathroom, one of the closet area. Later, I can use Seeing AI or the phone’s photo accessibility features to review these if needed. On iPhones, for example, you can add descriptive captions to photos or use the built-in VoiceOver to hear a basic description of a photo (it might say something like “Photo: a bed and a window”). It’s a quick way to refresh the memory if I get turned around.
- Best Voice Assistant for Navigation? Honestly, the best tech is the one you have readily available and know how to use. For me, that’s often Siri on my iPhone – I use it to create quick audio labels or reminders. For instance, I might record a voice memo describing where I put things (“Note: I left my blue jacket hanging in the closet, five hangers from the left”). It sounds silly, but if I later wonder “where did I stash that jacket?”, I can quickly play back the memo. Another neat trick is using Siri Shortcuts or Google Assistant Routines with NFC tags (more on those in the next section). Some blind travelers program NFC stickers that they can tap with their phone to trigger voice messages – like an NFC tag on the hotel door that, when scanned, whispers “This is room 512, don’t forget to bring your room key.” It’s like having a personal talking guide for hyper-specific info you might otherwise forget.
The marriage of tech and travel is a beautiful thing. With a smartphone in your pocket, you effectively carry an endlessly patient sighted assistant and a toolbox of sensors. Whether it’s reading the thermostat, identifying the mysterious room service menu on the desk, or just turning on some music to make the space feel more homey, don’t be shy to talk to your tech. In my experience, these gadgets and apps have saved me time and added a layer of safety (no more leaving chargers in the wall or forgetting if that bottle on the sink is shampoo or conditioner). And in a pinch, when high-tech fails or Wi-Fi is stubborn, I can always fall back on low-tech solutions – like asking a friendly staff member or fellow traveler for a quick description. It’s all about using every tool in your toolkit, digital or otherwise.
Mastering the Hotel TV and Electronics
Let’s be honest: hotel room TVs and I have a love-hate relationship. As a blind traveler, I’m often not binge-watching the TV, but I do enjoy some evening news or a bit of channel surfing by sound. The problem is those darn button-laden remote controls with no tactile differentiation. Ever try to guess which tiny button is volume versus channel on a slick remote? It’s like playing a game of “remote control Braille” with no dots. Here’s how I hack the hotel TV and other electronics to make them accessible:
- The Smartphone-as-Remote Trick: Depending on the TV model, you might be able to control the TV using your phone – which is accessible. Many modern hotel TVs are actually smart TVs in disguise (think LG, Samsung, or even Roku TVs). If I can find out the TV brand, I’ll hop on my phone’s app store and download a free remote app for that brand. For example, if it’s a Samsung TV, the Samsung SmartThings app can pair with the TV over Wi-Fi and give me on-screen controls that VoiceOver or TalkBack can read. I’ve had luck with Roku TVs by using the Roku mobile app, which has very accessible controls and even a channel guide that’s readable. This way, I bypass the physical remote entirely. It feels like digital magic when it works – suddenly I have speech feedback for navigating channels or adjusting volume. Do note, sometimes hotel Wi-Fi isolation settings can interfere (the phone might not see the TV). When that happens, or if the TV isn’t “smart”, I have a backup…
- Streaming Stick = Instant Accessibility: I often travel with a little HDMI streaming stick (like an Amazon Fire TV Stick or Roku Express) in my tech arsenal. Why? Because I can plug it into the hotel TV’s HDMI port and connect it to Wi-Fi, and voilà – I have my own accessible entertainment hub. The Fire TV Stick’s remote has Alexa voice control, meaning I can press one button and just say “Play CNN” or “Open Netflix” without navigating complex menus. The Roku can be controlled via the phone app as mentioned. This completely sidesteps whatever inaccessible cable system the hotel TV might be on. As a bonus, I get to watch my own streaming services. (Quick tip: some hotels disable input ports on TVs – boooo! But many don’t. Always worth a try.) Setting up my streaming stick makes me feel like a hacker (in a good way) – I’ve essentially taken over the hotel TV for my own purposes, with controls I’m comfortable with.
- Low-Tech Remote Hacks: If tech fails and I’m stuck with the original remote, I do a couple of things. First, I ask the front desk if they have an accessible remote or one with fewer buttons. You’d be surprised – some hotels, especially those serving many seniors, might have simplified remotes or at least a staff member who can put tactile dots on the power, volume, and channel keys for you. I carry a tiny pack of bump-on stickers in my bag. In a pinch, I’ll feel out the remote: power is usually top-left, volume and channel rockers might have a distinctive shape. I quickly mark them – one bump dot on the Volume Up, two dots on Channel Up, for instance. Five minutes of tactile labeling on the remote can save an hour of frustration.
- Audio Description and CC: For low vision travelers who still watch the TV display, many hotel TVs do support closed captioning or even the secondary audio channel that carries audio description (the narration for blind viewers). However, enabling those is often hidden behind on-screen menus. Here, again, if I have that smartphone remote going, I can sometimes toggle these features through the app. Or I’ll call the front desk or maintenance and say, “Hi, I’m blind and I’d like to enable the audio description on my TV – can someone assist me with the menu?” It’s an unusual request, but I’ve had generally good responses. The staff tech came up and after a few puzzled minutes managed to turn on the SAP (Secondary Audio Program) for me so I could enjoy a described movie on HBO. Don’t hesitate to ask – accessibility settings on TVs are rarely used by most, but they can be essential for us.
By employing these strategies, I transform the TV from a daunting array of mystery buttons into a controllable, accessible appliance. The key is either to make it smart (use your phone or your own device to control it) or make it simple (tactile marks or staff help). As for other electronics in the room, similar logic applies. Thermostat hard to read? I’ll use an app like Seeing AI to read the LCD screen, or just call the front desk for instructions. Coffee maker with no markings? Sometimes I’ll label the “brew” button with a sticky dot if I plan to use it repeatedly. Ultimately, any hotel gadget can be tamed with either a bit of technology or a bit of human help. One time, I even taught a hotel staffer how to enable the iPhone’s VoiceOver because their TV’s smart feature required scanning a QR code on the TV (which I obviously couldn’t do alone) – we ended up casting my phone screen and got things working. It turned into a mini accessibility training session for them; a win-win! Remember, where there’s a tech will, there’s a way.
Housekeeping Harmony: Keeping Your Room Tactile-Friendly
Hotel housekeeping can be a blessing (fresh towels! made bed!) or a curse (who moved my stuff?). As a blind traveler who meticulously arranges his space, I’ve learned to coordinate with housekeeping to maintain my tactile organization system.
- Do Not Disturb (When You Need It): If I’m only staying a night or two, I often opt out of housekeeping altogether by hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign. This way, nobody comes in and inadvertently “resets” my careful placements. I’m perfectly happy to reuse towels for a short stay, and I can request any extras I need from the front desk without a full cleaning. Maintaining control over the room’s arrangement can greatly reduce anxiety – I know that if I left my toothbrush on the sink’s right side, it’ll darn well still be on the right side when I return in the evening.
- Communicate Your Preferences: For longer stays or when I do want housekeeping, I make a point to communicate. I’ll call the housekeeping department or mention at check-in: “Hey, I’m blind, and I organize my room in a specific way to find things. It would be super helpful if the cleaning staff could please not move my personal items.” Most hotels are very understanding about this – it’s actually a recommended practice in disability etiquette to not move a blind guest’s belongings when cleaning. They might still need to tidy up, but I’ve found that if I cluster my items (e.g., gather all toiletries on a washcloth on the counter), they’ll clean around them rather than spread them out or rearrange them. Some places even add a note in the housekeeping system: “Vision-impaired guest – leave items as found.” The result: I come back to a cleaned room where my shampoo bottle with the two rubber bands is still right where I left it, bands and all.
- Tactile Reset After Cleaning: If the room does get serviced while I’m out, I do a quick “tactile reset” when I return. I’ll methodically check my key spots: Is my cane still where I propped it by the closet? Is the TV remote back on the dresser (or did it get placed on the TV stand)? If something moved, I don’t panic – usually it’s still there, just shifted a bit. I locate it and put it back in my preferred spot. I might murmur under my breath, “No, no, toothbrush belongs here,” as I re-align the bathroom setup, I’m sure Fauna gives me a curious look when I talk to myself on these missions. It only takes a minute or two to re-establish order. Consider it a mini-orientation round two.
- Requesting Specific Services: One handy tip: you can often request just specific housekeeping services. For example, ask for trash removal and fresh towels, but tell them they can skip the rest. This minimizes how much they need to touch your stuff. Many hotels implemented flexible housekeeping during the pandemic, and it’s still around – take advantage of it. I’ll ring the desk and say, “Just need a trash pick-up and new coffee packets, please, no need to make the bed.” They’re happy to oblige, and it means nobody is messing with the nightstand or my suitcase contents.
In short, maintaining the sanctuary of your room’s organization is a team effort between you and the hotel staff. Most issues can be solved with polite communication and a little foresight. The staff wants you to be comfortable – they just might not know what that entails for a blind guest until you tell them. I’ve found that framing it as “It helps me a lot if…” goes a long way. And when they do a great job, I make sure to express my thanks (and occasionally a tip). After all, an accessible experience is as much about people as it is about technology or tools. When housekeeping and I are in sync, I feel like I have an ally in maintaining my independent space. It’s a wonderful feeling to return after a day out exploring, open the door, and find everything just as I need it – bed made, fresh towel on the rack, and my cane exactly where I left it. Ah, bliss.
Tagging and Tracking Your Belongings
Finally, let’s talk about some hacks for organizing your personal belongings using tags and trackers. Losing things in a hotel room, whether it’s misplacing your keys or leaving your favorite hat behind – is an all-too-common fear. But technology has some answers here, and even low-tech tags can be a huge help.
- NFC Tags for Easy Labeling: NFC tags are tiny stickers or cards with a little chip that your smartphone can read. You might have used them for payments or transit cards without even knowing. For blind travelers, NFC tags can be a powerful way to label and identify stuff without Braille or bulky labels. Here’s how I use them: I carry a set of programmable NFC tags (you can buy a bunch online for cheap). Using an app on my phone (there are many; I use one called WayAround designed for visually impaired users, but even Apple’s Shortcuts app can do this), I can write a custom label or action to the tag. Then I stick the tag on an item or place. For example, I’ll slap an NFC tag on the inside of the hotel room door. With a quick scan of my phone, it can speak, “Room 515 – don’t forget your charging cable on the desk!” I literally programmed that message. It’s a reminder tag that I always place when I arrive – noting my room number and any critical item I might otherwise leave behind. You can get creative: put one on your suitcase (“Suitcase: all items packed, nothing on the bed”), on the minibar fridge (“Diet Coke inside, don’t knock over!”), or even on the thermostat if you want to record the ideal setting you like. The beauty is that NFC tags are reusable; I reprogram and reuse them each trip for whatever I need. They’ve become my little talking Post-it notes around the room.
- Bluetooth Trackers (AirTag, Tile, etc.): I never travel without a couple of Bluetooth trackers. They’re my insurance policy against forgetfulness. Most people think of Apple AirTags or Tile trackers for lost luggage, but I use them inside the hotel room too. My key ring has an AirTag on it – if I ever can’t find my keys, I can make the AirTag play a sound through my iPhone and play “Marco Polo” by following the beep until I snag the keys. I also attach a Tile tracker to my white cane when I’m using the dog (or vice versa attach it to the dog’s leash if I’m using the cane) so that whichever mobility tool isn’t in hand can be found easily if it’s not where expected. Once, I’d leaned my cane against a random corner of the room while playing with Fauna and later panicked when I couldn’t find it. Now I just open the Tile app, hit “Find,” and my cane starts singing its location. These trackers are a godsend for those small but vital items: hotel room keys, wallets, earbuds, you name it. And here’s a pro departure tip – AirTags have a “left behind” alert feature. If I leave the hotel and accidentally leave something with an AirTag behind in the room, my phone will alert me that I’m leaving that item behind. It’s like a digital safety net that gives me one last chance to remember the item before I get too far.
- QR Code Labels: While I personally prefer NFC these days, I have blind friends who swear by QR code labels for organizing things. They print unique QR codes and stick them on their luggage or items, then use a scanning app to identify them. For instance, a QR code on a medication bottle might bring up the name and dosage when scanned. In a hotel setting, you could have a few pre-made labels like “Shampoo” and “Conditioner” with QR codes that your phone can recognize and speak – you’d just slap the appropriate one on the hotel’s bottles. It’s a bit less flexible than NFC (since you need to print or carry the codes), but it achieves a similar goal: giving visual/tactile things a voice via your phone. As I noted in an earlier post, some companies make reusable QR and NFC tags specifically for blind users, turning your suitcase or bags into a “talking smart bag” when scanned.
- Lanyards and Pouches: Not high-tech at all, but worth mentioning: I use colored pouches and a trusty neck lanyard for organization. All small electronics go into one bright zipper pouch on the desk. All bathroom items I’m not currently using stay in a toiletry bag except when needed. By containing things, there’s less chance I’ll scatter and lose them. And my hotel key card goes on a retractable lanyard that I can clip to my belt loop. This way, I’m not laying the key down absentmindedly (in a pocket it could fall out or get mixed with other cards). The lanyard trick came in clutch when a previous me used to constantly “lose” the key in my own pockets or on the cluttered nightstand. Now it’s either around my neck or clipped to me, or it’s in the door slot – nowhere else. This kind of analog “tracker” pairs well with the digital ones.
By tagging and tracking your belongings, you build a safety net against both misplacement and forgetfulness. There’s nothing quite like the peace of mind from knowing that if something’s not at hand, I have a way to find it. We all know that sinking feeling of thinking we left something behind in a hotel. With these systems, I’ve cut down those panic moments dramatically. As I pack up to leave, I scan the NFC tag on the door that reminds me about the charger on the desk, I check my Bluetooth tracker app to ensure all my tags are with me (no last-minute “where’s my wallet?” because the app shows it’s by my side), and I do one final sweep with my cane or guide dog. It’s a tech-assisted farewell routine that all but guarantees I leave nothing but footprints (and maybe a good tip for housekeeping) behind.
Final Thoughts: Embrace the Adventure and Share the Wisdom
Every hotel stay is a new story when you’re a blind explorer. From the moment I feel that room key in hand to the final glance (or tactile sweep) before departure, I’ve learned that a mix of preparation, tech, and creativity can turn any hotel room into a comfortable basecamp. Whether it’s labeling the “mystery bottles” in the bathroom with rubber bands so you don’t end up conditioning your body and moisturizing your hair, or asking Alexa to guide you to the light switch, these hacks are all about reclaiming independence and enjoying the journey. Traveling blind or low vision doesn’t mean settling for uncertainty or inconvenience – it just means hacking the world to suit our needs, one hotel room at a time.
I hope these tips from my experiences with Fauna have painted a picture (audio-described, of course) of how to master any hotel environment with confidence. Use what works for you, tweak or toss what doesn’t. Maybe you’ll try out an AirTag on your cane, or perhaps put a funky doormat-sized towel by the bed as your “landing pad” each night. The key is finding those little tricks that make you feel in control and at ease in unfamiliar places.
Finally, I want to hear your stories. What clever hotel hacks have you discovered on your travels? Have you come up with a genius method to, say, instantly locate all the wall outlets, or a way to organize outfits in the closet by touch? Share your own hacks or memorable travel wins on our socials, or drop me a line on our contact page. Let’s keep this exchange of ideas flowing – accessibility is a team sport, and every tip you share might help a fellow blind traveler have that much smoother of an adventure.
Safe travels, fellow wanderers, and happy hotel hacking! Until the next journey – keep exploring and breaking down barriers.
See you at the gate,
—Ted & Fauna 🐾🧳
“Traveling, without sight, is an extraordinary journey of exploration. In the quiet footsteps and whispered winds, you discover a world painted in sensations—the warmth of sun-kissed stones, the rhythm of bustling streets, and the symphony of unfamiliar voices. Each tactile map, each shared laughter, becomes a constellation of memories etched upon your soul. In the vastness of the unknown, you find not darkness, but a canvas waiting for your touch—a masterpiece woven from courage, resilience, and the sheer wonder of exploration.” – Ted Tahquechi
About the author
Ted Tahquechi is a blind photographer, travel influencer, disability advocate and photo educator based in Denver, Colorado. You can see more of Ted’s work at www.tahquechi.com
Ted operates Blind Travels, a travel blog designed specifically to empower blind and visually impaired travelers. https://www.blindtravels.com/
Ted’s body-positive Landscapes of the Body project has been shown all over the world, learn more about this intriguing collection of photographic work at: https://www.bodyscapes.photography/
Questions or comments? Feel free to email Ted at: nedskee@tahquechi.com
Instagram: @nedskee
Twitter: @nedskee
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/nedskee.bsky.social
Tactile Photos
My Wife’s accessible art project: Making visual art accessible for those who can’t see it. https://www.tactilephotos.com/
Power Banks, Batteries, and Boarding Passes: What You Really Need to Know Before Flying This Year
Let’s talk about something that’s going to affect just about every traveler hitting the skies in 2025—and especially those of us who travel blind or low vision and like to stay powered up for the journey. There have been some recent updates from our friends at the TSA (and the FAA too), and they’re a big deal if you carry portable chargers, power banks, or backup batteries in your luggage.
And yes, before you panic—this does mean that trusty battery brick you use to keep your phone alive during a five-hour layover is now in the spotlight.
So, here’s the scoop, in plain English, from one blind traveler to another.
🔋 So… Can I Bring My Power Bank or Not?
Yes, you can bring your portable charger, but here’s the catch: you can’t check it in with your suitcase. It must travel with you in your carry-on bag—you know, the one you shove under the seat in front of you or jam into the overhead bin.
The TSA just put out a fresh warning for 2025 that’s cracking down on lithium battery devices because, well… they’re catching on fire. I’m not being dramatic—these little bricks of energy are at risk of thermal runaway, a fancy term that basically means “this battery’s going to turn into a smoke-belching fireball now.” And that’s not something you want happening mid-flight.
In fact, a fire on Air Busan Flight 391 earlier this year was blamed on—you guessed it—a power bank. That incident sent seven people to the hospital. And it’s not a one-off either. There have been a couple recent U.S. flights, including one out of Denver, where someone’s phone overheated and forced an emergency evacuation.
So now, the rule is this: if it’s a lithium battery and it’s not inside a device (like a phone or laptop), you need to carry it with you—not stashed away in checked baggage.
✈️ What Goes in Carry-On Now?
Let’s break it down. These items must travel in your carry-on bag only:
- Power banks
- Phone battery charging cases (like those thick phone cases that are secretly batteries)
- Lithium batteries (rechargeable and non-rechargeable)
- Extra cell phone batteries
- Laptop batteries
- External batteries and portable rechargers
If you’re a techy traveler like me, that’s… a lot of batteries.
Oh, and if you’re one of those lucky folks carrying professional gear—say, an extra battery for your DSLR or audio equipment—you’re allowed up to two spare batteries rated between 101 and 160 watt-hours. Just make sure they’re for personal use. If you’re schlepping batteries around to resell them? Big nope from TSA.
🔥 What’s the Danger, Really?
It all comes down to heat. Lithium-ion batteries are incredibly efficient, but that comes at a cost: if they’re damaged, overcharged, exposed to extreme temps, or packed wrong, they can catch fire—quickly.
This thermal runaway thing I mentioned? It’s not a slow build-up. It’s snap-your-fingers fast and can take down an entire overhead bin. That’s why flight crews are trained on battery fires, and why the FAA recommends passengers immediately alert the crew if any device starts to get hot, smoke, swell, or otherwise act like it’s auditioning for a disaster movie.
🪪 Let’s Talk REAL ID – It’s Finally Happening (No, Really This Time)
While we’re chatting about airports, here’s the other big change as of May 7, 2025: the TSA is finally enforcing the long-postponed REAL ID requirement for domestic flights. Yes, I know they’ve been saying this since 2008—but now they mean it.
Here’s what you need:
- A REAL ID-compliant driver’s license (it needs to have the star in the corner), or
- A U.S. passport, military ID, or trusted traveler card like Global Entry
If you don’t have a REAL ID or one of those alternatives, you might be allowed through with a warning—some airports are being a little lenient—but don’t count on it. You could be turned away at the checkpoint. Not fun.
And a heads-up: five states (including Washington and New York) are using Enhanced Driver’s Licenses (EDLs) instead of REAL IDs, and those are still valid for flying, as of this writing, there are no provisions or restrictions issued for state issued identification cards, as most of us blind travelers won’t have a drivers license of course. So, check your wallet and make sure you’re covered.
🧳 Blind Traveler Tips: How to Stay Powered (and Calm) at the Airport
Let’s be honest airports are already a sensory nightmare, even when you can read the signs. For blind travelers, they’re like a real-life version of that impossible level in a video game: loud, fast-paced, unpredictable, and full of people who are in a rush but somehow standing exactly in your way.
Here are a few survival tips now that batteries are under the microscope:
✅ Tip 1: Pack your batteries in easy-to-find places
TSA might ask to inspect them. Don’t bury your power bank beneath a mountain of snacks and emergency socks.
✅ Tip 2: Label your chargers
I use bump dots and rubber bands to keep track of which batteries are charged, which are empty, and which are my “big guns.” It saves time, and makes things easier if you’re relying on airport staff or a travel companion to help dig around in your bag.
✅ Tip 3: Use a travel-friendly surge protector
Some hotel rooms have a single sad outlet behind the bed. A small surge protector means you can plug in your phone, laptop, and backup battery all at once—without fighting over cords. This can go in your luggage if there isn’t a battery component inside.
✅ Tip 4: If you’re using assistance at the airport, tell them about your batteries
Let your assistant or gate agent know you’re carrying electronics in your bag. They’ll make sure it stays with you, especially if your carry-on is at risk of being checked at the gate due to a full flight.
🚨 In Summary: What You Need to Do Before You Fly
Let’s wrap this up like a neatly folded TSA-friendly travel checklist:
- ✅ Only pack power banks and lithium batteries in your carry-on bag
- ✅ Make sure all devices are protected from damage and short circuits
- ✅ Know your battery limits (you’re allowed two big spares up to 160 watt-hours)
- ✅ Check your ID—make sure it’s REAL ID-compliant or have a valid passport
- ✅ Label your gear and keep it handy
- ✅ If something starts smoking or overheating mid-flight, alert the crew immediately
Flying doesn’t have to be stressful—even with new rules in place. Think of this as just another part of the game we play as blind and visually impaired travelers: a puzzle to solve, a strategy to refine.
So, charge up, pack smart, double-check that ID, and get ready to soar.
And as always,
See you at the gate,
—Ted & Fauna 🐾🧳
The Blind Traveler’s Guide to Air Travel Without Losing Your Mind (or Your Cane)
Let’s be honest. Airports are a sensory circus at the best of times—beeping carts, barking intercoms, blinking lights, and thousands of people all somehow walking in different directions at once. Now toss in vision loss, and it’s like trying to beat a video game on nightmare mode while riding a unicycle.
But take it from me: you absolutely can do this—and do it with grace, grit, and maybe even a little style. Whether you’re new to air travel as a blind or low vision traveler, or you’ve got more boarding passes than socks, this guide is here to help you keep your confidence, your independence, and your cane firmly in hand (and not, as once happened to me, caught in a closing escalator).
Below are the best hacks, hard-won lessons, and empowering truths I’ve picked up from flying across the country with a white cane or my guide dog, Fauna, in tow. Let’s take off together.
Step One: Booking Assistance That Actually Shows Up
When booking a flight, there’s a little checkbox that says “Request special assistance.” Click it. Then forget it. Because let’s be real: that checkbox might as well be connected to a shredder in a breakroom somewhere.
Instead, call the airline directly after booking. Speak to an actual human and let them know you’ll need assistance at both ends of your journey—departure and arrival. Be specific. Say:
“I am a blind traveler. I’ll need assistance from curbside to the gate, including TSA, and again from the arrival gate to baggage claim.”
Pro tip: Get a confirmation number or note added to your reservation. Then, 48 hours before your flight, call again and double-check that your request is still noted. It sounds excessive, but it drastically reduces your chances of being left standing solo at the ticket counter while assistance is “on the way” (which is travel speak for “We forgot. Again.”)
And if you’re using a guide dog, let them know. I usually say:
“I’ll be traveling with a guide dog. Please notify TSA and the gate team ahead of time. She is trained and accustomed to air travel.”
Make sure when you arrive at the airport for your flight that you have that Department of Transportation form for your service animal all filled out and ready to go. Doing it at the gate is always an option, but the folks manning the counter have enough to deal with, make things go smoother and get that form filled out ahead of time.
I have found out that having Fauna listed in my reservation helps streamline things at check-in and boarding. She’s adorable, but not a shared emotional support animal for Row 22.
Navigating TSA: Dignity Intact, Cane in Hand
TSA checkpoints can feel like a chaotic interpretive dance—shoes off, laptop out, belt off, stand here, wait there. For blind travelers, it’s a lot of trusting strangers to guide you… while still trying to hang onto your dignity and maybe your pants.
Here’s how to glide through TSA like a pro:
With a Cane:
- At security, clearly state: “I am blind and using a white cane.”
- You can request a manual pat-down instead of going through the body scanner—and you should. The scanners don’t love canes.
- Ask for the cane to stay within reach, and if they must inspect it, ask that they do it by hand and in your presence.
With a Guide Dog:
- Tell them upfront: “I have a guide dog, and I’d prefer to walk through together.” Most TSA agents are trained to let you walk through the metal detector with your dog. If an alarm goes off, they’ll swab your hands and maybe the harness—but your dog never leaves your side.
- Most of the time, TSA will request that you place your dog on a sit/stay and have you walk through the scanner by yourself. It is a challenge to not touch the side of the scanner, because if you do it will go off. The worst part is that the TSA agent will usually use a hand signal to let you know it is your turn to go through the scanner. Yeah, not great if you are blind and the funny thing is that most of them don’t even realize what they are doing.
- Whether you decide to let them separate you from your dog to go through the scanner is your call. Remember that it is your right to keep your cane with you or your guide with you as you pass through the scanner. Do also remember that they have to follow procedure and they aren’t late for their flight, and a private screening can take a lot more time than you expect. Pick the hill you are willing to die on for this fight.
- You can also request a private screening if things get too chaotic. I’ve only needed it once, but knowing it’s an option made a stressful moment feel more in my control.
Remember, the TSA agents may not always know what to do—but you do. Be calm, be clear, and if necessary, educate them. I once had to walk a TSA supervisor through the proper procedure while he read the training manual. (Five stars for effort. Two stars for preparation.)
Boarding the Plane Without Everyone Petting Your Dog
Ah yes—boarding. The time when every person in the boarding group seems to forget what “Do Not Pet” means. If you’re flying with a guide dog, boarding is both a logistical puzzle and a social minefield.
Here’s what works:
- Pre-board whenever possible. Even if the airline doesn’t call for pre-boarding explicitly, go to the counter and say:
“Hi, I’m a blind passenger with a guide dog. We’d like to pre-board to settle in before the rush.”
Most gate agents will accommodate this. If they don’t, escalate calmly. Pre-boarding allows you to get your dog positioned and your carry-ons stowed before a wall of humanity fills the aisle. - Block the petting early. As you board, some passengers may reach out and say, “Oh what a good boy!” (Fauna is a girl, thank you very much). I keep it light but firm:
“She’s working, please don’t distract her.”
You’re not being rude. You’re protecting your safety and your dog’s focus. Most people understand, especially when you say it with kindness and authority. - Seat Selection Tips:
I usually request an aisle seat near the front, where there’s more legroom for Fauna and less chaos during deplaning. Many airlines will let you pre-select this if you call ahead.
Advocate Like a Boss (When Gate Agents Get Confused)
Some gate agents are fantastic. Others look at your cane like you brought a live goose to board. If you run into confusion—about boarding order, assistance, or even whether your dog is “allowed”—advocate with clarity and confidence.
- Always stay calm.
- Reference the Air Carrier Access Act (ACAA) if necessary. You are protected under this law as a traveler with a disability.
- Say: “I’m a blind traveler. I’ve arranged for assistance, and I need to speak with the CRO (Complaints Resolution Official).”
The CRO is the airline’s go-to person for disability issues, and mentioning them often lights a fire under the gate team.
If you ever feel that your needs weren’t met or you were treated unfairly, file a complaint. Seriously. It helps improve the system for all of us.
Airline Apps & Flight Trackers: Screen Reader Survival Guide
Airline apps can be a mixed bag, accessibility-wise. But many have gotten better in recent years.
My go-to tools:
- VoiceOver or TalkBack with airline apps like United, Delta, and American Airlines (your mileage may vary).
- Aira – This is a paid service. An agent can pop onto your phone and see through the camera similar to BeMyEyes. I generally steer toward free apps, but it can be worth the money to have someone help you to the gate on your terms. Pro Tip: Many airports have free aira service, I use this app all the time when I am traveling solo.
- Flighty (iOS) – an excellent flight tracker with VoiceOver compatibility. You can follow your flight’s path, gate info, and delay alerts.
- TripIt – for itinerary management, with solid screen reader support.
Always check in ahead of time with the app (if accessible), or call the airline to confirm your seat, assistance, and dog info. I always suggest taking a few minutes to familiarize yourself with the apps you will be using on your trip before you get to the airport. Finding your gate can be hectic enough without having to learn a new app along the way.
Carry-On Strategy: Pack Like a Ninja
Airports love to lose things. That’s why I pack smart—like a one-man band of independence.
My carry-on must-haves:
- Medications, chargers, and snacks – Never check anything you can’t afford to lose or need on hand.
- Dog gear – Fauna’s leash, collapsible bowl, and food go in an outer pocket for quick access.
- Earbuds – To drown out airport chaos with music, audiobooks, or the comforting voice of Morgan Freeman reading your GPS directions.
- Tactile labels or rubber bands – To mark important items (yes, even on a bag of trail mix).
- Portable charger – Because airports were apparently built on the belief that power outlets should be hidden like ancient treasure.
Bonus tip: I attach a Bluetooth tracker (like an AirTag or Tile) to my cane and my backpack. That way, if one wanders off (or is kindly “put somewhere safe” by an overzealous assistant), I can find it fast.
When It All Goes Sideways: Delays, Rebookings, Missing Assistance
Let’s face it—sometimes, despite our best prep, travel punches us in the nose.
Your connection gets canceled. Assistance doesn’t show. Your gate gets changed three times and your flight now leaves from a terminal only reachable by teleportation.
Here’s how to survive the chaos:
- Ask for help confidently. You deserve assistance. Speak up. Don’t wait.
- Stay charged and hydrated. Delays are easier with power and a bottle of water.
- Have a backup plan. If assistance is late, I’ll ask another passenger or staffer for help. Most people are kind when given a clear ask. I often use apps like aira to get me where I need to go in a pinch.
- Breathe. You’ve got this. And you’re not alone.
Final Boarding Call: You Can Do This
Air travel as a blind or low vision traveler is never effortless—but it is achievable. Every trip teaches you something. Every challenge met adds to your confidence. And every success—no matter how small—is worth celebrating.
I’ve missed flights, lost my cane (temporarily), had Fauna sneeze on a fellow passenger mid-flight (he deserved it), and accidentally tried to exit through the flight crew galley. I’ve also crossed oceans, met incredible people, and helped build a world that slowly, surely, is learning to be more accessible.
So here’s what I’ll leave you with:
- Advocate.
- Prepare.
- Laugh when you can.
- And share your story.
Whether you’re planning your first solo flight or your fiftieth, you belong in the skies. And if you ever need help, advice, or just a place to share your latest airport misadventure, BlindTravels.com is here for you.
Travel smart. Travel proud. And never let go of your cane… unless you’re handing it to TSA—for inspection, not as a weapon (though tempting at times).
Got a travel tale or a hard-won hack? Share it in the contact form or tag @BlindTravels online. Let’s make the world smaller, more accessible, and a heck of a lot more welcoming—together.
See you at the gate,
—Ted & Fauna 🐾🧳
Getting Lost On Purpose: Why Blind Travelers Should Wander More
I used to plan every step of a trip like a general preparing for war. Schedules. Maps. Backup maps for the backup maps, extra phone batteries, extra white cane in case Fauna got sick, you name it, I brought it with me. In my early days of traveling blind, I thought meticulous planning was the only way to reclaim the independence I’d lost along with my vision. And for a while, it worked.
But somewhere along the line, probably around the time I found myself sweating bullets because a bus schedule changed by three minutes—I realized something vital: the best moments happened when I veered off the itinerary. The real magic of travel lives in the unexpected. And yes, even—or maybe especially—for blind and low vision travelers.
Embracing the Joyful Chaos
Wandering isn’t aimlessness. It’s trust. It’s curiosity. It’s standing on a street corner, listening to the sounds around you, and letting your instincts (or, if you’re lucky, your guide dog) choose your next move.
Once in Sedona, I decided to ditch my planned trail and let Fauna lead. We ended up at a tiny, almost hidden coffee shop tucked between two towering red rock formations. The owner, a soft-spoken man who recognized Fauna’s harness and smiled knowingly, served us the richest coffee I’ve ever tasted and told stories of hiking the desert blindfolded to “sharpen his senses.” I’d have missed it entirely if I’d stuck to the script.
Another time in San Francisco, my carefully mapped route was blocked by construction. Rather than panic, I followed the sound of music—literally—and stumbled into a street festival. Within minutes, Fauna and I were purchasing tacos and eating them sitting next to a kind stranger and soaking in a parade of colors I couldn’t see but could hear and feel through the laughter, drumbeats, and joyous chaos around me.
From Anxiety to Curiosity
For blind travelers, it’s natural to feel like you need to control every variable. It’s an armor against uncertainty. But too much control can suffocate the very experiences that make travel so transformational.
Wandering teaches you to shift from anxiety to curiosity. Instead of “What if I can’t find the restaurant?”, it becomes “I wonder what I’ll find instead.”
It’s not about abandoning safety—there’s still wisdom in carrying your ID, knowing basic landmarks, and having a rideshare app on standby. It’s about loosening the white-knuckle grip just enough to let magic sneak in, while still knowing where you are compaed to your hotel.
How to Wander Safely (and Brilliantly)
If the idea of “just seeing what happens” makes you break out in hives, don’t worry. Here’s how to ease into it:
- Set a loose perimeter. Choose a neighborhood or a few streets. You’re not trying to backpack across Europe blindfolded. Always be aware of safety though, and make sure to check with the concierge in your hotel or the front desk staff about great places to wander and explore.
- Use sound and smell as your compass. Music, food, bustling patios—follow your senses. They’re better guides than you think. Taking a few moments to soak in the world around you can give you a better sense of that new location you are visiting.
- Let your guide dog lead (a little). Sometimes Fauna sniffs out open-air cafes and shady parks better than any GPS app. I will often wander in a new area and tell her to “find a seat” which instructs her to find me the nearest open seat. Then I will just hang around and listen to what is going on.
- Ask locals for one recommendation. One place they love—not the guidebook kind, the “if you live here, you know” kind. I can’t tell you the number of times I have been directed to some amazing food, a serene park or a cool museum to visit using this method.
- Carry backup. Have a charged phone, portable charger, and a rideshare app ready. Independence doesn’t mean stubbornness or recklessness.
- Stay open. The goal isn’t a perfect day. It’s an interesting day.
A New Kind of Masterpiece
Getting lost on purpose isn’t about finding something specific. It’s about the moments you could never have planned: the taste of unexpected coffee, the rhythm of a parade you didn’t know existed, the feeling of truly being part of a place instead of just visiting it.
Blind travel will always require creativity, patience, and a bit of grit. But it also grants a freedom sighted travelers often miss: the ability to experience the world beyond what you see—through touch, sound, scent, and intuition.
So next time you’re traveling? Throw the itinerary out—at least for an afternoon. Get gloriously, magnificently “lost.” You might just find something better than what you were looking for all along.
And if you stumble into a parade with tacos, save me a seat.
See you at the gate,
—Ted & Fauna 🐾🧳