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.
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-