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| Image from CDC on UnSplash |
Since my wife Liz and I went away on a trip to New England for so long, I have several restroom adventures to share.
The main one I did not think of was what would happen when I
needed to seek out an open handicapped stall to use because of my mobility
issues. I needed all the help I could get to make my way around to get to the
toilet.
The first big issue came in Boston, where I was not
expecting any difficulties. The first problem came when the only elevator down
to the restrooms was broken and I had to try to use a steep set of stairs to
make it to the restrooms themselves. I guess I looked unsteady enough for a
younger man to offer to help me down the steps. But I made it alone. Then I found
the handicapped stall and it was empty. The only bad part was the lock on the
door was very flimsy, but by that time, I had no choice but to try it anyhow. In
the beginning, all was good, and I finished my business with no problems. Then
I heard a mom and young daughter enter the room. At that point, I tried to pull
up my leggings and get myself together before BOOM, the kid barged through my
stall door before her mom could stop her. Fortunately, I had my leggings almost
all the way up as the mom pulled the kid out of there and all was alright. I went
ahead and washed my hands and swiftly exited the restroom with a slight smile
on my face.
Another one of the positives which happened on the trip was
I got a chance to work on my voice again. It turned out I needed a passable
voice to get me by in the restroom which on occasion was really crowded. Several
times I had to respond to someone inquiring if the stall was occupied. The last
thing I wanted to do was respond to another woman asking if the stall was occupied
with a man’s voice. I did well enough I guess because no one ever questioned me
on it. Which gave me extra confidence to
carry on other conversations with other women on other topics.
No matter how many rest stops the bus made, there still were
times when I had to use the toilet on the bus. It was times like these when I
was happy, I could sit down to pee. If you ever tried to negotiate moving
around on a motor coach, you know what I mean, At the least you have to be very
careful and at the worst, you have to be really careful to check the seat
before you sit down. Even though I have to give the Amtrak train we took from
Boston to Maine passing marks for timeliness and comfort, the restrooms left a
lot to be desired and in fact, one seemed to be flooded and out of use. Fortunately,
I did not have to go and let another woman take my spot.
Similar to so many other bus trips we have taken, in a relatively
short period of time I was accepted for myself and no indication of any
pushback of any one on the tour except that one guy on the first day who made the
point of pointing me out to his wife From then on, I ignored him and everything
was OK. It seems there always needs to be at least on hater these days wherever
you go sadly.
Traveling while transgender will always carry extra baggage
and we did not even go on modes of transportation such as flying which brings
with it a whole other set of potential problems. Once I conquered my rest room
fears, I was able to bond with the other women on the trips, and all turned out
to be a good move. I made it through mentally and physically, so we have another
trip planned. The whole process keeps me challenged and aware of my
transfeminine being alive and well. Which is what I need at my age of seventy-five.
