Phones Down, Look Around

Until my lower-limb amputation about two years ago, the world of accessible toilets and priority seating wasn’t something I gave much thought to. My journey since then has been a lesson in adaptation, moving from a wheelchair to crutches, and eventually, to walking unaided. After a recent hip fracture set me back on crutches, I’ve had to re-learn many of these lessons about navigating public spaces. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

The Hidden World of Public Toilets

While I may not always require a wheelchair, I often use accessible toilets for a simple reason: they are usually on the entrance level, saving me a painful trip up or down a flight of stairs.

It’s interesting, though, how they can be almost hidden in plain sight. For 20 years, I frequented a bar in Sydney without knowing it had an accessible toilet on the main floor, simply because it was concealed within a wall mural. I only found it when someone finally pointed it out to me.

Pro Tip for Sydney: If you’re looking for an accessible entrance or toilet in an inner-city bar, check near the poker machine room. For compliance reasons, these areas are almost always wheelchair accessible and often have a toilet nearby.

Public Transport: Phones Down, Look Around

When it comes to public transport, my key piece of advice can be summed up in four words: Phones down, look around.

Depending on my recovery, I sometimes need the priority seating available on buses, trams, and trains. When I was in a wheelchair, the need was obvious. Now, it’s a different story. I usually wear shorts, as my old skinny-legged pants no longer fit over my prosthetic limb. Yet even with the prosthetic technically visible, it’s flesh-coloured, and I’ve found that people rarely look down long enough to notice. My need for a seat isn’t immediately apparent.

Because of this, I’ve noticed that these seats are often occupied by people who don’t need them, simply because they were vacant. Once seated, they disappear into their phones—often with headphones on and sunglasses—completely oblivious to their surroundings and to passengers who may need a seat. I’ve learned that I often have to speak up and ask directly: “Excuse me, may I have that seat, please?”

Timing is also everything. I’ve learned to avoid public transport at two key times:

• The 8:00 AM commuter rush: This is when I am most likely to have to ask someone to move.
• The 10:30-11:00 AM window: This is when many pensioners and others with disabilities do their shopping. Buses and trams become crowded with wheelie walkers and mobility scooters, making space scarce.

The Daily Obstacle Course

Just walking around the city presents its own set of challenges. I tend to walk close to walls so I have something to grab onto if I feel unsteady. This sometimes means I can’t follow the “keep left” convention on footpaths.

This is where “phones down, look around” applies just as much. People walking while looking at their phones are a common hazard. They often don’t notice that I’m hugging the wall for a reason.

Two other things that make me nervous are small children and dogs. Both can be wonderfully spontaneous, but their unpredictability is a real risk for me. A child or a dog suddenly running towards me has nearly caused me to fall on several occasions. It’s another element of public life I must be constantly, consciously aware of to maintain my balance and safety.

These experiences and tips aren’t unique to me; they could apply to anyone with a mobility disability, especially older people. A little more awareness from everyone can make a world of difference.