All aboard

After a long day at work, all I really want is to go home. Who wouldn't? But of course going home isn't a short commute for me. And in case you don't know, or need a reminder, my commute is on any typical day an hour and a half.

One way.

You may find yourself saying, there is no way. Well yeah, at one point I would have agreed. Hard to believe there was a time, when I would have never given the thought of commuting into the city on a daily basis. But I quickly learned, if you want the money, and if you want the job. Well you better be willing to commute. Which explains why for the past three and a half years I have done just that. I have gotten lucky lately, after one to many 'odd' happenings I convinced Andy to at least start bringing me in during the morning rush hour. By doing so, we have saved five dollars one way and I get to spend up to a half hour of extra time with my husband.

It was a win-win situation.

Getting off work this afternoon, standing on the platform as I looked up at the wait time announcement I began to wonder, what would it take to get him to start picking me up in the afternoon as well. It was just before 4, the summer vacationers were just making there way home after a long day of touring the city. It was packed. Still I made my way down to the crowded platform, threw on my headphones and was jamming out to some Lady GaGa, when I looked at the sign, which read no trains were coming.

Brilliant. It looked like I was going to be in for a long wait. This of course is nothing unusual. Metro is notorious for broken down escalators, and its never working systems. I just happen to hit at the right time. I settled in for my wait.

That wait turned into almost a 40 minute wait. Sweaty and tired I pushed my way on to the packed last car, there of course wasn't any available seats, shocker! I glance around, at the kids taking up two seats as I struggle to wrap my hands around the poles. I curse my disability at times like this. I was thankful however that I was on my way home, at that moment its all that mattered, it wasn't like I couldn't hold on. Struggle yes, uncomfortable, yes. But I was on.I watched through the window as not so lucky commuters had to wait for the next train.

But my disability started to get the better of me as one commuter and tourist after another piled onto the already overcrowded car and by the time I was three stops into my long trip home, I was practically in someone else's bubble. And thats when she offered her seat.

I didn't know what to do, I never do. On one hand, I feel as though as an American with Disability, I have a right to sit there. And yet, on the other hand, I can stand just as easy as the next I don't desperately need the seat. Its a struggle I try not to think about to often. Because in all honesty, I tend to forget I even have a disability.

She pointed to the sign above her and said, this is yours. Its reserved for disabled people.

I wanted to be offended. Because I hate the fact its that noticeable. I wanted to be upset that someone even classified me as it.

But I wasn't. And I couldn't.
All I did was thank her, smiled. Grateful that for once someone actually gave up their seat for someone whom the seat was actually intended for.