On the flight from New York to Amsterdam I sat next to an elderly woman who devoured gossip magazines. From time to time she would sigh. Shortly before landing she said to a stewardess: “I’m going to Nice and I need a wheelchair.”
After landing she got up, took a considerable piece of luggage out of the overhead bin and walked out the plane as if she was competing in race walking.
Perhaps arriving at the plane to Nice in a wheelchair was for her a matter of prestige.