The Day I Became an Accidental Explorer

Yesterday pulled me into a story I didn’t expect. A story that felt heroic and stupid at the same time. A story about bravery, bladder management, and surviving the New York holiday season with MS in a wheelchair.

I had my holiday Christmas party at work. Good people. Good food. Drinks flowing like they were trying to get us all fired. We even played white elephant. I don’t love the name. The whole thing screams “someone’s HR department approved this without thinking.” But whatever, not the point.

I planned ahead. I asked Access-A-Ride to pick me up early so I wouldn’t embarrass myself after a few social drinks. MS plus alcohol is a risky mix. My bladder reacts like it’s in a hostage situation. And I’ve seen enough movies to know company holiday parties end careers.

My ride came.

But I never got a call.

No two-minute warning.

Nothing. Radio silence.

So there I was, stranded in Rockefeller Center during peak tourist season. Streets closed. Police everywhere. Tourists swarming like pigeons with iPhones. The whole place felt like a blitz invasion. And I missed my damn ride.

I knew if I called Access-A-Ride for a rescue van, I’d be standing outside until 2037. So I opened Uber. It showed 135 dollars to get home to Brooklyn. My jaw tried to quit my face. I blinked, closed the app out of pure shock, reopened it, typed my address again… and the price jumped to 150.

I called my wife and said the words no wheelchair user says lightly:

“I think I’m going to take the train.”

My anxiety slapped me across the chest. My muscles locked. My leg refused to bend. But I rolled toward the subway anyway. I took the elevator down to the platform. The station still looked like it hasn’t been cleaned since the 70s. People stared like they were expecting me to perform a miracle.

The train pulled in.

And my wheelchair refused to get on.

Three tries.

Once back. Twice forward.

Total humiliation. Total stress. Total body lock.

Then I made it. I was on. On the damn train. My first time back since becoming a full-time wheelchair commuter. I didn’t care if I was blocking the doors. People could walk around. Consider it their holiday cardio.

My mind fixated on one fear:

“What if the elevator at my stop is broken?”

But the train kept moving. So did I.

When I rolled out at my station, everything felt unfamiliar. I felt like a visitor in my own neighborhood. I had no clue how to exit the station, even though it was accessible. I figured it out eventually, because survival is a skill MS forces you to learn.

Then came the finale.

I had to wheel myself almost a mile home.

In freezing rain.

Through Brooklyn.

With an MS body that already clocked out.

By the time I made it to my front door, I felt scared, vulnerable, exhausted, and proud all at once. I haven’t felt that mix in years. My body was humming with aches. My mind was done with humanity.

I got home around 6:30. Ate dinner. Showered. Stretched. Threw ice on my back. Grabbed my cat. Knocked out.

What a day.

Will I do it again?

Not anytime soon.

Maybe in a true emergency.

Or if Uber raises the price to 300 and I lose all sense of self-worth.

Yesterday showed me something. I can still push into uncertainty. Even when it sucks. Even when I’m scared. Even when my body fights me.

I survived the New York City holiday transit apocalypse.

With MS.

In a wheelchair.

In freezing rain.

That’s enough adventure for a while.