And then there's me...

I often joke that my biography will be entitled, “While I was riding the busy,” because I spend some much time on the bus.   It’s become my second, dare I say first home.   Not only am on a first name basis with most of the drivers, but they often comment on my hair.   “I see someone slept in today,” one driver jest the other day due to my ponytail (a tell-tale sign that I opted for extra sleep time v extra make myself pretty time).   Each morning is filled with friendly exchanges ‘til I sit in my seat facing the driver, pop in my Bluetooth, and attempt to zone out to music.   Although zoning out on the bus never truly works, because it is such a fascinating world that easily grabs one out of the zone shaking them violently back into the reality around them; bus world.

In bus world all is possible.   In bus world a simple trip to work can provide an entire day’s dose of drama.   There are screaming matches on cell phones.   There are sassy passengers, often older women, which have solved all the world’s problems between stop one and ten.   There are teenagers trying to prove how adult they are by inserting vulgarity into every other word in their sentence.   There are sometimes a mixtures of individuals ravaged by unchecked mental illness having entire dialogues with the voices in their heads (sometimes far more interesting than the other conversations one cannot help to ease drop on).  There are homeless people sleeping, sometimes they only place they can safely do so for an hour or two.   There are moms’ with several children that always seem to have their daily meltdown while the bus is in transit.  There are people desperately searching for additional change in pockets or their purse in order to pay for the next bus trip.  There are nurses just off a 12-hour shift heading home; tired and, often, annoyed by someone on the bus breaking some unwritten bus etiquette.  There are college students hoping to make it to class on time.   There are those eco-friendly young professionals that have delayed the bus an extra five minutes, while they struggle to mount their bike on the bus’s bike rack.   Then there’s me in this collage of people from various backgrounds and experiences that collide on the bus.  

Who am I?   I’m another typical fixture of the world of public transportation; the individual with the disability.   The person other passengers are supposed to give up their seat for on the bus; although, it never happens ‘til the driver says something.   I am legally blind; therefore, I should not drive.   I don’t say I cannot, because I could; therefore, I can.   I can totally drive.   I can walk down to my partner’s car, slide into the front seat, and turn the key.   I can do it.   However, I shouldn’t, because there it is highly likely that I would cause an accident hurting myself, the car, a person, or a defenseless tree or phone pole.   Poor phone pole.  

So, I do not drive.   I like to pretend it’s a choice.   I choose not to drive to keep you safe, but really isn’t not a choice at all.   I’m pretty sure the local PD would have something to say about me driving.  Could you imagine me getting out of the driver’s side and whipping out my cane or even driving down the road with my cane hanging out the window?   What a sight (pun totally intended)!

With that I find myself at the bus.   Each day.   Every day.   For my colleagues a quick fifteen minute drive to the office from where I live.   For me an hour walk/bus ride to my final destination, a journey repeated again at the end of the day.   This is a truth for those like myself that are unable to drive due to disability.   Everyone takes longer.   It’s an entire process to get from point A to B.  A simple journey to the grocery store, work, or doctor’s office can involve waiting up to an hour for buses, riding for thirty minutes, transferring to another bus, and/or walking long distances only to repeat it again to return home.  

Don’t want to be all complaints, because I’m lucky to have the level of public transportation I do.   Growing up as the blind girl in a small town I had ZERO public transportation options.   To go anywhere involved walking or securing someone to drive me.   Sometimes it felt like friends resented me for that, because sometimes inviting me meant they would have to pick me up.   As an adult I am lucky to live in a community that has public transportation that allows me to unburden those around me, so I can get where I need to be (well, as long as there is a bus route there).  

The other benefit, not always seen, is how riding the public transportation has allowed me to widen my vision to the world around me.   The bus experience has given me greater insight on myself and how the world sees me and others with disabilities.   This is what this blog is about.   It’s using the lens of my experience riding the bus to tell the story of disability in America.   I hope you’ll drop in a token or two and join me for the journey.