Let me take your arm so we can take a stroll through London together. You will be my guide, because I am partially blind. And I will be your guide, drawing our attention to public transportation accessibility and inclusivity in the city.

 

I am an American woman living in Chicago, and a frequent business traveller in my role leading global disability inclusion and accessibility at Otis. I have night blindness, a shrinking visual field, a lack of distance vision uncorrectable with lenses and limited depth perception.

 

During my visit to London, I notice and appreciate the efforts made by the city to improve transport accessibility. My cane finds bumps at the entry to pedestrian crossings. The placement of pedestrian boxes to call for a walk signal are consistent around the city, and ‘wait’ signs are large and in high contrast (but lack any audio cue or pre-illumination at night, making it difficult for me to locate and activate them). The branding of the Underground stations is consistent throughout, helping me find entrances independently. 

 

The Tube stairs have edges with good colour contrast and tactile markings and some escalators have helpful lighted direction-of-travel indicators. During my rides, Tube station announcements are spoken clearly, at adequate speed and volume, including information on whether the upcoming station has a step-free route (some older historical stations do not), and carriages had digital boards showing the next stop, which is helpful for deaf and hard of hearing riders — though not low-vision-friendly enough for my own use.

 

But it is really the people who distinguish London from other places I’ve visited and from home. When I ask a hotel staff member the way to the nearest Tube station (Old Street), he offers me his arm. He doesn’t just walk me out the door and point vaguely down the street; he walks me to the station entrance, down the stairs and helps me find an Underground staff member who can assist me further, before bidding me farewell.

 

A friend, a Londoner who happens to be blind, told me Tube passengers with disabilities can request assistance from staff members. Upon my asking for help, the staff member radios ahead to my transfer and destination stations and links arms with me to guide me to the platform. He confirms whether I am okay with stairs when approaching stairs or escalators. As the train approaches, he explains to me that he will make sure the driver sees me boarding. Stepping off at King’s Cross station, another staff member greets me, offering her arm to help me transfer to the Piccadilly line, as the visual signage for wayfinding is not accessible to me. At Green Park, we take a lift which has tactile flooring at the lift doors and extra-large buttons and numbering inside the cabin.

 

As we walk, I ponder the difference between ‘accessibility’ and ‘inclusion’. ‘Accessibility’ means something is technically usable for a person with a disability. Although it may be inefficient, the compliance box has been ticked. ‘Inclusion’ is about how the experience feels. While this method of traveling through London takes more time than if there were such a level of accessibility that I could navigate the Tube alone, it is more efficient than walking and less costly than cabs. What I lose in time is made up for in feelings of connectedness to the city, awe at the engineering marvel of this vast transport system and gratitude for the people who guide me. I feel consistently welcomed and supported.

 

London public transport is not yet independently accessible for me, but in My London it is inclusive. 

For information about transport accessibility and travel tools, including the travel mentoring service which supports people using public transport in and around London to become more confident and independent travellers, visit tfl.gov.uk/transport-accessibility