Getting around. Sometimes.
The perils of travelling with a disability
Hello! If you are new to Legless in Dublin, thanks so much for joining us. The function of LiD is to raise awareness to access issues - both physical and social - that disabled people face, while highlighting venues, restaurants, clubs etc. that have implemented some decent access features. Most of the content is behind a paywall, but today’s post is free for everyone.
I offer life-long free subscriptions to people who identify as disabled; all you have to contact me here by replying to the newsletter as an email in your inbox or over on Instagram, where I will ask for your email address and then set you up as a lifer.
Everybody else has to pay.
The reasons for the paywall are:
Disabled people are always asked about access by non-disabled people, so I decided to take the phrase “if I had a Euro for every time somebody asked me about _____” into a reality. It’s the Privilege Tax and it’s time to pay the toll troll.
I’ve been struggling with the pace of freelancing and DJing, and realised that I could balance that pace with one I set myself by having a guaranteed monthly income via Substack.
It takes a toll on me to review accessible and non-accessible places, as I am in a wheelchair, so I consider this a very small wage for pointing out the obvious; equality should be universal.
Which brings us nicely onto this weeks topic…
Public transport
I am a regular Dublin Bus user, and I’m very lucky to live on a very well serviced transport route. For quite some time now Dublin Bus has had the rare claim of any public transport service in Ireland by having a “100% accessible fleet”, but full access is a myth. We should always aspire for it, but the meaning of accessible always changes and, in turn, should be continuously updated.
100% indicates a flawless, free from breakdown, always available and spacious service, which no transport system anywhere in the world can promise because breakdowns happen, rush hour happens. There is no full guarantee that any of us will ever make our bus or train without a hitch or a delay, but there’s even less of a guarantee for disabled people.
Last week, I was meeting a pal in town for lunch. I decided to leave my house 30 mins earlier than necessary as I wanted to mooch about in some of Capel Street’s charity shops before heading to - don’t judge - All Bar Chicken (steep entrance, ground level restaurant, gigantic accessible bathroom). But my timeliness went out the window as soon as I boarded the bus.
Every Dublin Bus vehicle has a mechanical ramp that folds out at the front doors. You might be familiar with the honking announcement it makes to alert both its unfolding and my arrival: “WARNING WHEELCHAIR RAMP OPENING. WARNING WHEELCHAIR RAMP OPENING.”
The ramp unfolded and when I was crossing the threshold, I heard a little rattle. A little but nonetheless disconcerting rattle. I positioned myself into the designated wheelchair area, and when the driver tried to get the ramp back in, it wouldn’t budge.
A few more attempts, and then he tried it manually, something that I’ve seen bus drivers do a few times with no problems whatsoever. While he was successful in getting the ramp in, something had gone wrong internally and the doors would not close.
When the doors on a Dublin Bus do not close, the bus cannot move. He tried different configurations, and then phoned HQ to ask them to talk him through the process, all the while my face was burning bright red. This wasn’t the first time that I’ve broken Dublin Bus.
My most memorable breakage before this was on Camden Street around rush hour sometime last year. I hailed my bus down and the driver made moves to lower the ramp. The ramp, despite the honking announcement, would not open and the doors would not close. The bus was stuck, so everyone on the bus had to get off, and everyone waiting for a bus home had to wait even longer. To add insult to injury, the next bus arrived but it could not pull into the bus stop as the broken down bus was in the way. It stopped in the middle of the road, and those able to walked onto the road and drove off into the sunset. I walked home.
As it became clearer that this bus was going nowhere, the driver told all the passengers to get onto the bus that was pulling up behind us. I, however, had to stay put because now the ramp wouldn’t open at all. The other bus departed and I was a lone soldier. There was no getting off for me.
The driver phoned HQ again and whatever combination they gave him with flicking switches, the doors closed and he could start the engine. But the next predicament was figuring out how to get me off the bus. With a 10-minute travel time from here to my destination, a Dublin Bus staff member would meet me at my final stop and help me off. What that meant, I did not know.
And off we went, with the driver picking up passengers as we went along. As we pulled into our stop on George’s Street, the driver called HQ and they said that they were at College Green and would be five minutes away. The driver relayed this information to me, but said it would be four minutes instead. As if that would soften the news.
So he pulled in and as some passengers got off, new ones got on but I knew, and the driver knew, that the bus wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Once more my face turned bright red as other passengers figure out what was going on. I really felt for one lady who sprinted across the road, afraid that the bus was just about to leave, and she bolted in out of breath. “Thank God I made it,” she said, clearly in a rush. Soz bbz.
I mentioned to the driver that this wasn’t the first time a Dublin Bus has had a nervous breakdown over the use of a wheelchair ramp, and I wanted to know what we could do to improve that. He said that the man arriving would be the right man to voice these concerns to.
Then, within the promised five minutes, we saw a yellow and green nugget of hope zip across the road and pull up in front of us. A hero in a hi-vis emerged with a portable ramp, something that should probably be on buses for instances just like this, and I emerged into daylight a free woman. Sorta.
The man (extremely helpful) listened to me plead my case:
Not every disabled person in Ireland is entitled to a Free Travel Pass and not every disability meets the qualifying criteria to get the pass. Disabled people who receive the Disability Allowance (DA) are entitled to the Free Travel Pass, but the DA is a means tested process.
I no longer qualify for DA, so when I lost that in 2018, I also lost my Free Travel Pass. I pay full fare for a service that only sometimes works. There are less and less accessible parking spots in the city centre, so I heavily rely on the bus to get in and out. While I’m happy to pay for the bus, I believe that Dublin Bus and the National Transport Authority should offer reduced fares for disabled people using a registered Leap Card - just like the student fare - until they can promise a service that is fully reliable.
At its maximum the DA is €232 a week. For context, the Covid weekly payments were €350. This is how a disabled person’s income is evaluated for the DA:
You can work and earn up to €165 a week (after paying PRSI, pension contributions and union dues) without your DA payment being affected.
If you earn more than €165 a week, 50% of your earnings between €165 and €375 will not be taken into account in the DA means test. Any earnings over €375 are assessed in full.
The extremely helpful Dublin Bus staff member agreed with me and gave me a direct line to the Disability Officer. While getting this information, he phoned another colleague to report the issue. “I’ve a customer here with a complaint,” he said. “A legitimate complaint,” he followed up with, proving that this is an issue that Dublin Bus is aware of.
He also told me that every morning every single bus undergoes a service check, but a faulty ramp isn’t enough to stop a bus from going out on the road. This means that disabled passengers are already travelling with less of a guarantee to get where they’re going easily and on time.
When I sent my email to the Disability Officer, I got an almost immediate reply:
“Many thanks for your email, I will report the ramp failure to the maintenance Manager for repair, on behalf of Dublin Bus I apologise for the upset and inconvenience caused to you.
I think your suggestion regarding the introduce a discounted or free fare for people with registered disabilities is excellent, however Dublin Bus does not have the autonomy to decide fares or bus design. We operate buses for the NTA who make the decisions regarding these issues. If you wish I can forward your email to the NTA for reply.”
This response, while positive in a way, points out that Dublin Bus doesn’t really have a say in how Dublin Bus actually operates. I gave permission for my email to be forwarded onto the National Transport Authority, but I’ve yet to hear back from them.
When Dublin Bus works, it’s brilliant. But when it doesn’t, disabled people are paying to be left stranded.
Thanks for reading my little rant today. As this is a free post, please feel free to share this around, especially with any newly elected local councillors who are dying to get stuck into some community-driven work, and perhaps you might even subscribe? Please?