Taxi! Or Not.
Last Friday night, I went out to dinner with a few friends in Georgetown. It's a pretty far walk from where I'm staying, and the weather was being gross and unpredictable, so I decided the best idea was probably to take a taxi, especially since my wheelchair has a severe allergy to the rain. That afternoon I called for a cab and arranged for one to pick me up when I got home from work, and to my great surprise, everything went off without a hitch. For a brief moment, my faith in accessibility had been restored, but I should have known it was too good to be true.
I often joke that finding an accessible cab is about as easy as finding a magical pink unicorn. I should have known, but I wanted to believe for just one brief second that my life could work the way everyone else's does. We finished dinner and I called my cab driver back, only to find out he was in Maryland. Okay, no big deal, I'll call the company and have them send me another taxi, I thought. No worries. So we called, and before we had a chance to get a word in edgewise, they told us they could send a cab right away. Perfect! All set, right? Well…not exactly. Their offer for immediate service was rescinded when we told them we needed a wheelchair accessible taxi. We were told that the only two wheelchair accessible taxis they had out right now were in Maryland, or somewhere else far away, and it would be close to an hour before they could offer us services! Let me repeat that. We were told that there were exactly TWO accessible cabs available. So, while some of my friends took a non-wheelchair accessible cab home, because their own mobility disabilities made it difficult for them to walk with us, some of the other people I was with and I made the trek back from Georgetown, and I was furious! I will admit that I ranted about the situation nearly all the way home, and I'm truly grateful to my patient friends who listened.
I was furious, but it wasn't about this one situation. It wasn't about this one night. It was about culture, social structures, ableism, and what it all means. It was about the time that the New York City Mayor celebrated the fact that a law demanding that all new taxis be accessible to wheelchair users was struck down. It was about the fact that this man said that you couldn't just be a wheelchair user in New York City and expect to find a taxi. It was about the fact that nobody seemed to care. It was about the fact that even though I made it back from Georgetown without much of an event, thanks to my friends, I now knew I couldn't go anywhere I couldn't walk back from. It wasn't about the fact that I had to trek back from Georgetown; it was about the fact that I didn't have a choice.
When conversations about accessible transportation, especially taxis, come up, a lot of people usually try to justify the lack of availability by bringing up things like paratransit. Every time someone does this, I know they've never had to rely on paratransit. I'm not saying it's not a useful service, I'm just saying it doesn't replace taxis. You have to plan days in advance, and you usually have to be a resident of the area, or get a guest pass. You have to go through a process to prove your eligibility. I don't understand it. Accessible vans, at least the one I used on the way to Georgetown, had enough seats for four other passengers not including the wheelchair user. Anyone could use an accessible taxi, so what's the big deal about having more of them?
I've been thinking a lot about advocacy, and the future, and what I want the world to look like in 10 years, and why this all matters anyway, and I learned something. It's not about taxis. It's not about pool lifts. It's not about access to buildings. It's not about accessible hotel rooms. Not really anyway. What I want, and what I am fighting for, is the ability to reasonably expect to be treated like everybody else. Why shouldn't I be able to go to New York City or Washington DC and get a cab? My big sister can, and no one gives this a second thought. No one thinks she's being too demanding, no one ever tells her she's being unreasonable. All I want is the ability to expect that I will be treated the way everybody else is. I am so sick of being told that I am overreaching, or being unreasonable when I express a desire to have what everybody else takes for granted. I am so tired of people being praised for abiding by the most basic accessibility standards.
Getting a cab in the city shouldn't be like finding a magical pink unicorn. It should be for me what it is for millions of other Americans, a standard daily option that doesn't take much thought. Every day activities shouldn't always have to be so complicated. I dream of the day that I can get on the train without having to stress out about whether somebody will be there with a bridge plate. I long for the day when demanding basic accessibility won't ever be seen as a divisive action. I long for the day that I can sit in my chair on a street corner, hold my hand out and yell, "taxi!" and get service just like everybody else.
