August 21, 2017: Another Autism Family

This morning before we headed out to Universal Studios, we hit the Bayline Diner which is a quick service restaurant at the Cabana Bay Beach Resort where we are staying for this year's family vacation. Dante unexpectedly let out a sudden scream which echoed in the cafeteria style dining room. Normally, Dante gives fair warning of something that is bothering him, but not this time. After quick deduction Heena and I assessed that Dante was upset that his chocolate chip pancakes weren't the same as when I make them. (And I tried them, they pretty much sucked) Heena did breathing exercises with Dante, and I gave him that look that my old man gave me. (He's autistic but he's still a kid who needs to know at times, enough is enough) I assured him that I would grab him a snack at the Starbucks by the front desk on our way to the bus. Angelina quietly sits and finishes her breakfast; this isn't anything that she hasn't seen before. Eventually Dante does settle down, but it does take a few moments of hand flapping, stimming and half a pancake finding its way to the floor.

During the deescalation, we received many confused and concerned looks at first, but the tourists quickly returned to their bacon and eggs. Long after Dante's outburst, I notice a middle-aged couple eating breakfast and taking in the spectacle. We get this from time to time, mostly from other kids which I can understand, and they can stare as long as they want, I mean their kids, they don't know any better, maybe they should, but they always get a pass with me. But when adults stare, it pretty much pisses me off. I look up again and the father (Who looks a lot like Kingpin from the Dare Devil comics) keeps staring.  I don't want to make a scene and get all "Jersey" on him, so I look away. I focus on my waffle and as always Dante, who by this time is relaxed. (great job mom) Before I know it, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's Kingpin . . . . . . . . .. he says, "hey I hope you don't mind; I felt the need to come over just to let you know we are an autism family too and we totally get it." I shook his hand and I started to tear up. His wife later came over, and we started to get to know each other. We related with each other as only two sets of Autistic parents could. Doug and Charolette were from western Pennsylvania, he was a preacher, she was a nurse. Their daughter was 15 and nonverbal like Dante, she was staying with her grandparents, while the two of them took a mini getaway. They too had to fight with their school district to get her the proper services necessary for her education. Their daughter was three days old when they adopted her, I could only imagine how hard their journey has been so far, similar in some regard but totally different and unique in its own right, just like every child with autism. I was so happy Doug came up to talk to me; it was good to meet another Autism Family and bond with fellow kindred spirits.

As I think back on that morning, it was a moment that I will always remember for two reasons. One, talking to another autism family was something Heena and I didn't do very often. It happened to be a refreshing experience, we didn't talk very long, but we immediately understood one another more than anyone, even our best friends and family could, at least when it comes to Dante. And two, there was a sense of comfort knowing that we weren't alone, that there were other families going through the same kind of ordeals that we were. We always knew this was true, but talking to Doug and Charolette was an authentic reminder.

I was glad Doug didn't just look away and go about his business. Introducing himself the way he did was a very warm sentiment, but it could have gone terribly wrong, I mean not every Autism Dad is such a sweetheart like I am. Most Autism parents have an astute sense of identifying those who may be on the spectrum, even from far distances. While Dante's little morning episode was obvious, it wouldn't have surprised me if others who gawked didn't "get it." My autism radar picks up on if a I see a child is flapping their hands, walking on their toes, squeezing their hands together or softly moaning repeatedly as they are no doubt trying to cope with something. Sometimes I want to put up a three- finger salute, like Katniss Everdeen in the Hunger Games. Autism families are a lot like the residents in District 12, and the symbol meaning is fitting an autism parent. It means gratitude and admiration, a perfect acknowledgement of obeisance.