A Ride to Remember

by Brian Daly

When discussing public transportation, the average New Yorker may say that it is a good thing. Where else could you get basically anywhere in the city for a one time charge of $1.50 and not have to pay for parking when you get there? However, ask a disabled person like myself and it is another story. When I was a kid, my mother and father would always bring me wherever I had to go by the family van. To go to school I was taken on a yellow school bus. I would always wonder what it would be like to go on the city bus so I would always ask my mom if she could take me for a trip. She would answer, "Maybe someday when it is less busy", but that never happened. When I was about fourteen years old, I decided to see for myself what the city bus was all about. I traveled from my house on Noel Avenue to my high school, Edward R.Murrow, located at East 16 Street and Avenue L. To accomplish this feat, I would have to walk (ride) up to Nostrand Avenue, because it was a waste of time to get on the B31 at Seba Avenue, only to get off at Avenue W to ride up to Nostrand Avenue. By the time the bus driver would have put down the lift to pick me up and let me off at Avenue W, I would have been up at Nostrand Avenue just as fast. You may ask why I didn't take the B31 directly to Avenue R. I did not know at the time that the B31 would take me to Nostrand and Avenue R because I didn't get the proper training with public transportation. At Nostrand Avenue, the first B44 stopped and the Bus Driver claimed that he had a broken lift, and continued with his route. The next bus picked me up and took me to Avenue L where I was going; two blocks from school and I road the rest of the way. When I arrived at school I was about a half-hour late, and to be honest, I never wanted to see a city bus again. I wanted my independence, so I decided to give it another shot and travel home on the same route. I figured the ride to school was a bad time of day and the ride home would be better. I have never been so wrong in my life! On the way home I got on the B9. The bus driver forgot to let me off at Nostrand Avenue and I was afraid to tell him because of the way everybody on the bus was looking at me. If looks could kill, I would have been dead. I was holding them up when I boarded the bus, and I didn't have such a way with words as I do now. I wound up staying on the bus until the last stop, which is Kings Plaza. When I was getting off the lift, it got stuck on the way down. They had to call the dispatcher for help. Some man was screaming and yelling at me. He was calling me names, which I cannot mention. After twenty minutes of this, they finally brought me down off the lift, telling me never to come back again because my wheelchair is too heavy for the lift. After being humiliated, I got so mad that I decided to ride home from Kings Plaza, never wanting to use the city bus again. IT WAS A HELL OF DAY! Wouldn't you say? I am telling you this story in an effort to open your eyes and see that disabled people have problems that most do not experience. What you might take for granted may be a big project for someone with a disability. Have a little patience. My intentions of this story are not to put down the MTA or the bus drivers. There are a lot of very good bus drivers, and I appreciate that. When you see different situations like this one, take a minute and put yourself in a disabled person?s shoe, or in my case, wheels. If you or someone you know, or you just see someone being mistreated on NYC bus lines be sure to report it to the MTA at (718) 330-1234 be sure to include the driver's badge number the bus number and the time. YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

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