Within my neighborhood, I rule the sidewalks in the company of my slick, 4-wheeled sidekick. Venturing onto public transportation pitches me into the world of “handicap accessible.” To my utter dismay, the 86th Street subway, a hub of activity and my home base, fails to accommodate. The “convenience” of the express train perpetually looms a foreboding 3 flights of stairs away.
So what’s the problem? Isn’t this where the dashing knight in shining armor comes galloping onto the scene to rescue the damsel in distress struggling with a precarious descent while juggling 5+ pounds of folded metal? Plenty of burly armed men bustle past me…not to mention a choice selection of NYC yuppies. Adamant about requesting assistance, I’ll patiently await my gallant to little avail. Seems this dystonia damsel requires a megaphone to motivate an endless supply of walking testosterone pursuing their destinations with single-minded focus.
Life is a trade-off and my solo adventures arrive bundled with a steep price. I find myself recalibrating my notion of “independently mobile” to accommodate the human and technological assistance I’m helpless to escape.
Chronicles Of A Dystonia Muse 
It’s to bad the world is mainly designed for so called normal people.
Keep up the good work.
Don, Wouldn’t I love to redesign the world! For now, I’m getting my workout on those stairs! -Pam-
I was really hoping for a different ending…but then I snapped back into reality. One day!
Hi Marsha, There’s always hope we can make people more aware. In the meantime, I refuse to let a lack of assistance on the stairs daunt me from using the subway. Best to you. -Pamela-