When you live life mostly on four wheels like I do, one of the biggest challenges you’ll face is getting around. I’m lucky in the sense that two of my three PAs drive, and both my parents will do their best to help if they’re available. Sometimes though, for whatever reason, I have to rely on public transport, which can be a bit of a mixed bag….

Taxis

In theory, these could and should be the easiest to manage, but generally in my experience they’re often the most difficult and frustrating! When I’ve been out and about, especially here at home, finding a taxi can be really easy. Getting one to actually be willing to take me, however is often the trickiest part. Drivers will often refuse me 3 or 4 times before one will take me, and I find the attitudes of the majority I’ve encountered when just hailing one spontaneously really quite standoffish and patronising.

Booking ahead of time can and does help,but even then I’ve had instances where they don’t turn up altogether, or they do but all kinds of shenanigans ensue. A couple of months back, I was due to review a play at one of my local venues, Tobacco Factory Theatres. It was a Thursday evening, and my PA who works that night doesn’t drive and my parents were unavailable to help. I booked a taxi a few days prior, making them aware of my needs. I phoned again the morning of the performance to reiterate my needs and was assured it wouldn’t be an issue.
Then, five minutes before we were due to leave, we got a call from the taxi driver who informed us he could take us as long as my wheelchair was folded up: not an option with my chair as it’s electric.
Still hopeful we’d make the press night, we phoned three other taxi companies, but unfortunately all of our calls went to voicemail. Knowing both of my parents were unavailable to help, and it being so close to showtime, I was left with no other option than to contact the team at the Box Office and my editor at BroadwayWorld and inform them I couldn’t attend, explaining the transport woes.

That got me thinking: there’s an infuriating preconception that everyone who lives with a disability like mine is able to transfer under their own steam. What’s more irritating though, is the fact that society seems to think the world seems to stop for us with disabilities at 5pm when the taxi companies switch their phones off! It’s incredibly isolating, especially if you want to be sociable like I do. As I say, booking ahead can help, but having to plan your days in advance gets old really quickly… why can’t we be spontaneous just like everyone else?

Going to London as often as I do, the majority of the time I’ve had much better experiences there and elsewhere than I have at home. Except on one rather memorable occasion…

My friend Rachel and I had booked to see a Thursday matinee. She met me off the train at Paddington as usual, and we headed up to the taxi rank. Now, depending on the kind of taxi, I find drivers react to my wheelchair differently: the standard size black cabs always take a bit more manoeuvring to get in so the driver can put the ramp back in and safely shut the door, which usually means my feet are wedged against the door on the other side. Uncomfortable sure, but I make do. This taxi also had one of those folding down seats, so it was a bit of a tight squeeze, but no harm done.

The trouble started when we arrived. I always have trouble reversing, mainly because I can’t see where I’m going, but it’s made a little easier as my control panel for my chair can move and I try my best to manage that way. The taxi driver took it upon himself to lift my chair around slightly so I could reverse properly, and I could tell he was getting agitated and impatient.

When we’d gotten out of the taxi, the driver started being really abusive and shouting at the both of us. The carpet had ridden up slightly (but was easily pushed back down) and he insisted I’d torn the fabric from the folded seat (I hadn’t). He kept raving about how he was unable to take on any work for the rest of the day (totally untrue) and even threatened to take me to court. He demanded £100 for the ‘damage’ and charged us extra on top of the fare, and called the police. All this in front of passers by, and it was the first time during all my trips to London over the years where I felt scared and incredibly vulnerable. I’m so grateful Rachel was there to have my back – I just wanted to cry and get on to our matinee, but she kept me calm and we took what details we could to make a complaint to Transport For London. Needless to say, I’m now very careful who I approach if I need a taxi….

Buses

After one too many bad experiences, I will never get on the buses here at home in Bristol for all the theatre tickets you could offer me. Like with most of the taxi drivers here, their attitudes stink: getting the ramp out was a chore, they don’t enforce the supposed “th2is space is for wheelchair users” rule, I’ve had one driver say to me that I might want to do my driving test again as I was getting off – meant as a joke, probably, but certainly didn’t come across that way.

Now I’m back on the hunt for a job again, I have weekly appointments with an agency that specialise in helping people with disabilities into employment, and their offices are in the city centre. I’d been with them originally a few years back, and my PA at the time didn’t drive, so we decided that instead of going through the rigmarole of sorting a taxi each week and the fares, we’d look into the bus as at that time I had my Diamond Travelcard. We got on ok generally, but one wintry afternoon was the straw that broke the back of this particular little camel…

My appointment overran slightly, and it being winter it was starting to feel bitter cold despite being well wrapped up. The buses were late, and we’d been waiting at the very least a half hour before one showed up. Unfortunately, this first one the driver claimed he “couldn’t get close enough to the kerb” to put the ramp out – I just think he couldn’t be bothered to take that little bit of extra time to help me. A little while later, a second bus went by, with two prams using the disabled space. Annoyingly, they probably wouldn’t have moved to make room if it had stopped, and I’m pretty sure the bus driver wouldn’t have asked them to. (Nowadays, this is even more tricky as drivers are no longer obligated to ask people to make room, even if its required)

By this time, we’d been here over an hour, so I’m even more cold and now starting to be desperate for the toilet. No other buses seemed to be passing by, and when one did, it was over the other side of the road. My PA went over and asked if he’d be able to take pity and help as we’d been waiting so long, but to no avail.

By the time another bus did arrive, I literally could not feel my legs from cold, and my kidneys felt like they were on fire. We eventually got on one, and that was where I had that “joke” from the driver… needless to say I wasn’t impressed!

I remember writing an open letter to First Bus on my blog at the time following this whole experience, and it got the attention of their staff thanks to an incredible response on my social media. We were invited to meet with a staff member to do a journey with them so they could see the problems we face. The drivers obviously all knew her so were on their best behaviour and everything went smoothly. Funny that…

Trains

Travelling by train has become one of my favourite things to do as it’s helped me become a more independent adult, and slightly less guilty about my theatregoing habits. Having said that, it’s not without its challenges. First off, its just more time consuming if you have a disability – you have to book everything in advance, including assistance to help you get on/off the train. For me, that’s the ramp. They tell you to get to the station twenty mins before your train departs, so that staff can help you out. This irritates me as from my experience, they never see to you until five minutes before, anyway! Alongside that, you’re consistently asked by staff if you have booked said assistance by varying members of staff, which doesn’t lead to having much faith in their ability to communicate with each other.

Communication issues become even more scary when they happen whilst you’re on the train waiting to get off it. In theory, staff can radio ahead to the destination to let them know you’re arriving, so as to be ready with the ramp. In my experience though, this hardly ever happens: I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been left at Paddington but also at home waiting to get off and no-one arrives. The longest I’ve waited is roughly forty minutes, long enough for a staff member working on  the next service to pop his head in the door with a lovely smile and make a joke about how early I was. To his credit he was absolutely mortified when I said I was actually on the last service and still waiting to get off, and went to the office to chase it up. A while later, the ramp did arrive with a rather sheepish staff member claiming he “didn’t see me”.

I was just glad to get off the train and on my way as had a show to get to, but it got me thinking about the wider problem: what if you have to get a connecting train to continue your journey and so on, or staff training doesn’t get better?

A new app has been developed with the aim of making travel easier for disabled passengers. Personally I’m a little sceptical that it’ll get rid of all the problems we face, but am open to being proved wrong.

 

 

Generally then, though it can be difficult, I’m able to get around: except there’s one form of transport that’s off limits…

Planes

I haven’t travelled on a plane for four years, and even then I was only able to go because my dad was with me, and could lift me in and out of the seat on the flight. Myself, dad and my friend Kristine went to New York for a long weekend for my birthday and as a theatre geek, it was the best four days seeing the sights and some wonderful shows. Sadly though, now my dad is older and my PAs unable to lift me, I can’t fly. This gets me down all the time as I’d love to travel, and I envy others the ease with which they can do so!