My first experience on public transportation
The term, “public transportation” has been an evolving concept for me in the last seven years as a Bay Area resident. The journey begins, however, with ambiguity.
I moved to San Francisco at the age of 17 as a freshman university student directly out of high school. This may seem all quite familiar to a city of transplants but there was a slight caveat: I was disabled.
Living in a downtown San Francisco dorm and utilizing private-school-provided buses to get to and from campus, it would be four months before I ever saw the inside of a subway station.
I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma that did not have a traffic light, let alone a mass transit system. In December 2009, however, I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled across town in the Sunset District.
The UCSF Medical Center was 3.8 miles from my dorm. This is where I would first learn the term “MUNI” (San Francisco Municipal Railway.) MUNI is a light-rail that services within city limits.
MUNI, at this time, would become a solution to a problem.
I asked my able-bodied counterparts for instructions on how to take MUNI which all seemed very simple: Get on the “N” train going in x direction. How difficult could this be?
I started the day early which allowed plenty of time to get to the appointment. Google Maps gave an ETA of 27 minutes door-to-door. I doubled this to offset the learning curve.
Powell Station
Powell Station was a straight shot down from my dorm, I headed with confidence in what looked like a fool-proof plan. At the station, I was greeted by my first predicament: escalators. This was the point where my journey took a turn.
Okay, breathe, let’s find the elevator, I said to myself.
There was a half-defaced blue(ish) sign with an arrow pointing in the other direction. I followed it half a block to the Powell street station elevator on Market & Fifth. The corridor leading to the door of the elevator was chained off with a sign announcing elevator closure.
Following a new set of directions, I proceeded to the second street elevator located on Market & Fourth, passing by multiple sets of escalators along the way. I reluctantly got in the elevator and took it down to the station.
At the station
I got out and proceed to find the MUNI entrance. At the station, I saw signs for “BART” (Bay Area Rapid Transit.) I kept heading in the direction I had just came from towards the broken street elevator looking for MUNI.
The MUNI entrance is located at the opposite end of the functioning street elevator.
I proceeded through the gates, where I was greeted by a new set escalators going down.
This is when I learned the unfortunate design of multi-level subway stations. I would need to take another elevator. This elevator would be different than the elevator I took initially.
I circled back to the station agent and asked for instructions on how to get to the “N” line. The station agent tells me I have to take the platform elevator down one level and pointed in the opposite direction saying, “The elevators are operated by BART”. At this time, I had absolutely no idea what this meant but I proceeded in the direction I had just come from (again).
Platform Elevator
Going back the span of one city block (for the third time), I called for the elevator.*
The elevator is covered in urine.
I was then faced, which many have before me, the first de-humanizing experience as a disabled person using public transportation.
In the elevator…
With my wheelchair sitting on top of human urine and my eyes starting to well, the elevator doors opened to a dimly-lit**, mostly enclosed space with machinery on the left and light-rail passing on the right. There was a homeless man sleeping in the corner.
I exited the elevator space which led to a 75 foot long — six feet wide corridor to the actual platform.
This feeling was one that I will never forget: I was completely and utterly disorientated.
On my right, was the “N” line approaching. In a fleeting moment of relief that quickly turned to confusion — the train passed me.
Once again — I found myself on the wrong end of the MUNI/BART platform. In reality, I became a victim of bad design, but in this moment — I started to blame myself.
My survival skills then started to kick in and I began looking around to see how other people were getting on the train and realized that since the light rail is pretty short, it was best to be near the front. I joined the masses of people waiting and another “N” train to approach.
The “N” Line
As the doors opened and everyone rushed onto the now packed train car, I am faced with yet another predicament: How do I actually get on this train?
Confusion transformed into total fear as I fought back shedding tears pacing the platform looking for any further instructions.
With many onlookers watching my dramatic scene play out: I seek help.
Several commuters walk away from me, unresponsive like I am speaking in a foreign language. I find, miraculously, a MUNI maintenance worker who told me to go to the first car and speak to the operator.
I waited for my train and when it approached, became that annoying person that asked the operator for help, directions and most importantly: pity.
He obliged and confirmed the train did, in fact, go to UCSF. He got up and walked over to the accessible seating where he told three elderly passengers to get up so I could have the space. They were angry. The situation became even more confusing and I became not only the “dumb directions girl,” but also, the one who has to be accommodated at the expense of others.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink into the gum-covered adjacent seat and disappear. Instead, I said to myself “It’s fine, you’re on the train now.”
Focusing on the next leg of my journey, I began dissecting the MUNI metro map*** and counting the stops to UCSF, saying to myself, “You’ve totally got this.”.
When the train suddenly emerged from the tunnel and the sun from the outside seeped in, Light, which I haven’t seen in an hour, signaled hope — but in this twisted reality called public transit: this was far from true. As we ventured on city streets, a beeping noise got my attention and the once flat surface to exit the train became three steps. My breathing intensified.
At this point, I tried focusing on counting the stops, hoping that things would just work itself out, I reminded myself: there’s no going back now (like, actually, you can’t get off this train if you wanted to.)
Then, the driver asked me, “Which UCSF stop do you want?”
Suddenly, I’m aware that, I am, in fact: visible. I’m grateful. Back into my accepted role as the dumb directions girl — I tell him I have no idea. Luckily, he offers a bit of advice saying that the first stop requires you to go up a steep hill to get to the main campus.
Okay, second stop, it is then.
UCSF Medical Center
Upon arrival, I hesitantly left the comfort of the disabled section to approach the front of the train and just as the operator catches my eyes looking at the steps he says, “Oh damn, I forgot this was your stop.”
Oh, damn.
Separate but “equal”
As it turned out, the off-boarding stop for the wheelchair access ramp was in an alternate location which we had passed. The light-rail operator became frustrated — not sure if it was with me or himself… I wasn’t quite sure.
He got out of the train on to the street to look at traffic and then hopped back in to announce on the loud speaker that he would be “reversing the train.”
Passengers now displayed, vocally and visually, their frustration as many got up and told the driver to “open the doors, I’ll just walk.”
Horrified, I ask myself what the hell is happening.
With cars now honking, I realize we are going backwards and I’m trapped being side-eyed by angry commuters.
We arrived back at the street ramp, the doors open — the beeping sounds off, the stairs come up and I exited the train.
Shaken, defeated, with tears streaming down my face and 45 minutes late to my doctor’s appointment, I made the first of many journeys on a broken public transportation system.
— Sunday Parker (December, 2009)
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*The elevator corridor leading to the platform has since been outfitted with new lighting for safer passage.
**The platform elevator is positioned outside of the fare gates — giving easy opportunity for fare evasion.
***MUNI Metro has 117 stops, 57 are wheelchair accessible.
