You might remember that in one of my earlier posts I told you about taking a taxi? I mentioned that I'd also taken the train. It happened on April 3rd, but I decided to tell you about it now because I needed to clarify some service details first, as I explained before. I took the train with Trenitalia from Potenza Central Station. But before I describe the journey, let me walk you through the booking process—because it's quite different from what a non-disabled person would do.
To book train assistance, you have to go online or call a number. Since I didn't have the number, I did everything online. You go to the Blue Room website or app. In the Blue Room system, you specify your train car, what type of disability you have (wheelchair user or blind, for example), and whether you have extra luggage. You also give your departure time from your station and your arrival time. The reason is that the Blue Room isn't at every station—Trenitalia has a complete list online. I booked from Potenza to Rome. The advance reservation makes sure the assistance staff aren't caught off guard; they can refuse extra luggage if they weren't told, for instance. After you book, Trenitalia gives you a reference number to call if you're running late. That day, I did have to call—I was five minutes behind schedule.
I'm telling you all this because I've noticed there are disabled people who take the train, yet nobody talks about these wonderful services we have access to. We hear about everything else in the disability world, but not this. It makes me angry, honestly, because we don't spread the word about the few good things that actually work for us. If we stay silent, we can't move forward. I was thirty-three years old and had never set foot on a train until that day. For the first time, I felt like I could. Like a regular person. Like a butterfly with doubly open wings—because I'd taken a taxi before, now I'd taken a train, so I felt reborn. Sometimes it's a struggle with transportation, but we keep going with a smile and the hunger to discover more of the world.
I board the train and take my designated spot, but sadly there were no safety straps to secure my wheelchair. So I spent five hours on that train with nothing but my wheelchair's brakes, holding on to the handrail beside the window. The first Blue Room attendant was kind and blocked me in with my suitcases, but normally there should be straps to lock the wheels—especially on long journeys like this.
I made the trip and saw all those little towns pass by. We arrived at Rome Termini around ten, though we were supposed to arrive at nine. When we pulled in, the train conductor called the Blue Room to say we were disembarking. I say "we" because my sister Sara, my mother, and I were traveling together. Everyone else had to get off first, because either you exit right away or you wait for the whole car to empty. Then the Blue Room showed up with the right equipment. It's a cart with a ramp that opens from both the front and the back. They made sure the ramp was level with the train, and they helped me on. There was one attendant in front and one behind, checking the ramp as they lowered me down.
We reached the exit at Rome Termini Station. At first we were supposed to go out via via Marsala—the closer exit, near the McDonald's—but since we needed to catch a taxi, we went to the next one instead. We call for a taxi. I was already trying to book one from the train, but the taxi dispatcher said we couldn't—we had to call from the station. I've written about the trouble that evening here, if you remember. Even now we're trying to get Roma Mobilità to send us a map of streets where taxis can't go, because my fear—and my mother's too—is that when I call for a taxi and the driver refuses to pick me up, I have no car to get home in. What does my mother do then? I'm hoping in one of my next posts to share a little interview with the taxi driver himself. A hug to you all, and I'll be in touch soon—from your free butterfly.
English version: How good is to take the train!