Elevator 851

Posted by John B. Kelly

I was on my way to drop off a letter with a NAG member this afternoon, when I thought I would take a shortcut to Ruggles Street by way of Forsyth Street. It is never a good idea to try a new way when you are a wheelchair user, but I thought I would just roll through or around Ruggles Station. What could be the problem?

First problem is that Northeastern University has taken over Forsyth Street on both sides of Huntington Avenue, and a few years ago installed uneven brick sidewalks. This means that I have to take the street from its beginning at Hemenway Street. Unfortunately for me, the street is almost worse because of its unbelievably steep crown and mine field of potholes. Won't make that mistake again. Forsyth Street sidewalks across Huntington Avenue are also unusable due to bricks and crossslopes, so I stay in the street some more.

I finally go up onto the sidewalk when I come smack into Ruggles Station, which does not promise easy passage. The security guard instructs me to take the elevator up one level to get through. It turns out that both sides of the station have huge flights of stairs, so I surrender to the prospect of a rapidly un-shortening shortcut.

A gruff station worker, who has poked his head out out the door to listen to the security guard and me, leads me to the single elevator. We board , and I see that our choice of levels is between "Street" and "Lobby."

Now which button do you think indicates the lower level at Forsyth Street and which the upper level for the track platform and Ruggles Street? Extra credit question: inside the Mass Ave. Orange line station elevator, there are also "Street" and "Lobby" buttons. Which one do you think equals the lower-level platform, and which one the upper-level entrance/exit on Mass Ave.?

All these buttons are raised and marked with Braille, but wrong and confusing information is still wrong and confusing. And insulting.

Inside the elevator, the station worker can not get the door to close. We try a few more times, without luck. So he dials the service number outside the elevator, and probably because his English isn't fluent, leaves me to tell the operator that no, no one is stuck in the elevator, but it won't move and its number is 851. The operator promises to send someone over.

Meanwhile, the station worker is done with me, and is striking up a conversation with some passersby.

I try going left out of the station, navigate to Leon St., where I again take the street because of more brick sidewalks. I finally reach my destination on Ruggles Street, 10 minutes late.

This is just a typical adventure wheelchair users have on the streets of Boston. By its self, this story is barely worth repeating, but it contributes in its own little way to an overall experience of demoralization.