WORLD TRAVEL MARKET - MY AUDACIOUS GOAL

I was not born disabled; I have had the luxury of living a life where I really did not have to make any concessions for…well living. Since my MS has progressed in the last 5 years, I have pretty much locked myself away in my apartment happy to be seen on Zoom, Face Time, What’s Ap but dreading the ‘let’s meet up’ question.  I used to think it was vanity but now I know it’s because I don’t want to be a burden to anyone as I’ve always been fiercely independent!  Ridiculous I know, so what if I can only walk a little and when I do it’s like a survivor from a Zombie Apocalypse who needs a little help from time to time.

For anything I physically need to do these days, well apart from shuffling around my apartment with my nana trolley, it needs logistical planning, but I won’t bore you with that just yet.

Id called ahead to the Excel for the exact postcode for a taxi drop off for a disabled person. I was taken to the underground carpark which looked like a complete building site. There wasn’t anywhere to conveniently stop – it wasn’t as if I could just jump out and wave sorry to the executive car behind, which is something I would have done. Thankfully my cabbie who also happens to be my cousin pulls over and manages to leave space for traffic to flow.  Slight dilemma, the taxi ramp and me on the scooter were not a match made in heaven. I could imagine the headline ‘Well-presented middle-aged woman travelling on a tatty mobility scooter reverses into wall knocking down the Excel’. Ok major exaggeration, to avoid any damage to me or anyone else my cousin Denise kindly managed to reverse the scooter down the ramp and position it so I could simply climb out and get on, yay!

Now you must know I do love my family I truly do; Denise was concerned my crutches would fall and therefore tied them to my handlebars with hairbands. Now remember this fact as it will come up again. Anyhoo off I go to the lift to make my grand entrance into the Excel.

I’m sitting at the top of the slope in awe of the amount of people, it looked like a really good turn out and from where I was positioned it was somewhat disconcerting. I showed my ticket and I’m in, first stop toilet, result, disabled toilet 20 ft away.  I remove my standard disabled toilet key and fob from my bag and guess what, it doesn’t fit. I go back to the entrance to ask if anyone can help, a very nice lady said, ‘I can’t, ask her’ and sent me across the entrance hall. The second lady also friendly said ‘I can’t help, just ask a security guard’. I then approach two security guards who looked at me as if I was deranged, ‘you don’t need a key’.

I scoot over to the to the toilet with the guard, he looks down at me yanks open the door and said, ‘look I told you no key.’ Ok well that certainly was embarrassing but doesn’t end there. I enter the toilet, which is long and narrow, now I have to stretch behind to lock the door, then scoot 10ft to do my business and wash hands. Of course, the drier is not conveniently located so I get back on scooter wipe my hands on my dress and reverse. I now have the dilemma of having to unlock and pull open the door. This required expert mobility scooter skills (which I truly didn’t have at this point) with the forward and reverse levers. Imagine one hand on the door handle keeping hold whilst you pull forward enough to try and throw the door open so you can reverse out.  After a number of quite pathetic attempts a lovely lady in a wheelchair managed to learn forward and hold open the door for me.  I did offer to wait for her, but she nonchalantly replied ‘nah, I’m used to it’.

Now I’m in the throes of a busy WTM and it was really quite overwhelming.  I’m about three foot smaller than everyone else. I spent the first few hours constantly apologising when people bumped into me because they were looking at their phones walking along.  At first it was quite funny because I felt like I was on a dodgem car, and I did like tooting my horn constantly.

I had my first meeting in a coffee shop and after it was decided to look for food. I was buzzing along in my scooter and rather like the scene from James Bond aka Sean Connery in Diamonds are Forever I was suddenly on two wheels at a 45-degree angle, ‘oh, oh, oh’ I kind of muttered as visions of me flying into the air came to mind, thankfully I was pushed back onto four wheels by my colleague.  The culprit of course was one of my crutches which had lodged itself into the front wheel, so much for the hair bands.

I was now fed up with saying ‘sorry’ so much therefore I made a conscious decision to be more diva like and instead of getting out of the way of people I made sure they got out of my way. I made my way over to the Novotel opposite for another meeting and had to use the ramp.  Successfully navigating down the first slope I then came to the turn and there was no easy way of achieving this.  I had to make a three point turn just to get down the slope, who an earth designs these things?  Upon arrival at the hotel which has a rotating door, the disabled bell was rang and the lady who answered just said yes use the main door.  It was explained to her several times that I could not as on a mobility scooter, I was outside for ten minutes frantically calling my next appointment to explain I was outside and couldn’t get in.  Then by chance a lady was leaving with a buggy through the disabled entrance, and I managed to get in.  Goodness, what a palaver, who knew things could be this difficult?

By the second day, I had most things sussed as Id planned my meetings in the same coffee shop. I knew where the disabled toilets were, never used to be an issue that Id worry abut where the loos were but only one end of the main concourse had disabled toilets. I had reconnected with people in person, Id actually let them see me on a scooter and allowed them to watch me wobble on my transition from scooter to chair – and guess what, it was ok. Now it’s time to leave, I’m heading along the concourse to the opposite end of the Excel, footfall was now light, so I was on full speed. It was great until I got to the queue to get out, not a problem its home time no wonder it was empty at the other end of the Excel.

Walking out into the dark cold night I had to slalom the commuters heading home, I found my entrance to the ramp and proceeded like a pro.  I then came head-to-head with the commuters running down the stairs as I had to do my final turn for the last ramp. What happened next was in slow motion, a guy in a suit, jumped over me from the middle of the stairs to the ramp and proceeded to run.  Now I was a little taken aback, first because he managed to scuff my bouncy blow dry I had that morning and second because he didn’t even say ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. In my head humming to Vangelis’ Chariots of Fire theme tune, I went onto max speed and proceeded to whizz down the ramp in pursuit of this street jumper wannabe.  I didn’t catch him,  ‘Don’t be late for dinner’ I shouted in a pathetic  attempt of trying to make myself feel as if I had stood up for myself.  As I get to the Taxi my cousin commented on the fact I came down the ramp really fast.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was because I was chasing a moron who had the audacity to mess up my hair.

My take on the Excel was that it was just another WTM however I’m so grateful I did plan most details and study the floor map. You would think being on a scooter would be easier but alas no it really wasn’t.  With the Excel being fairly modern I did expect it to have good disabled facilities, but it just didn’t, it was way off the mark. If only Bluewater could host WTM.

Just to finish, lets now talk logistics. I had set myself the goal of attending WTM last year, as you may know travel is a very social industry and I realised I was missing out.  Plans had to be made though, so first of all I checked whether I could stay at my lovely cousin’s home in Clerkenwell and then as said cousin is a black cab driver that she could drop me off and pick me up. Fabulous I was in the diary. Next step was to reserve and hire a mobility scooter for the week. Finally, I needed to register my blue badge with TFL, let’s just say that didn’t quite go according to plan and I ended up paying the congestion charge, it was easier than continually toing and froing.

The week of reckoning approaches and off I go to pick up the scooter. I was not impressed; it was well worn to say the least and awfully tatty. Great I’m off to meet people I haven’t seen in over 5 years and I’m on the equivalent of an old banger rather than a flashy Mercedes.  I could not have lifted the scooter into the boot myself I would have just toppled over trying – so much for true independence.

I was thankful there was a film shoot taking place in Clerkenwell as Denise called upon the help of a few burly men to help us. A tad embarrassing when you are sitting on the scooter trying to get up the ramp into the taxi and they are pushing you from behind.

In summary, I did it. Did I want to? No. Was it easy? No. Did I laugh? Yes, a lot. Was it good to connect with people? Hell yes. I said the whole experience was good for the soul, yes there were limitations and there is a long way to go for everything to be truly accessible but if you want something enough you can usually find a solution. I doubt I’ll ever be able to be truly independent when travelling ever again, I can’t thank my cousin Denise enough for her help, it was invaluable, well apart from the whole hairband incident. As long as I can laugh about all the frustrations and continue to apply myself, life is good. Attitude & Application it matters…