Rolling Traveler

…or How I learned that a waterproof seat for a wheelchair isn’t necessarily a good idea.

 When I think of Austin, Texas, I think of it in many terms: the great friends I have there; the bars I like and the beers they have on tap; the good yet cheap food; the live music; the wide open spaces. However, I also think of it as the place where I got soaked worse than I have ever been without actually falling into a body of water. The very first day I spent in Austin, I found out what the word downpour really meant, and it was nothing like the wimpy little storms I’d experienced in Ireland and Poland. The worst Atlantic storm felt like light rain by comparison: this was rain that hurt.

I got in to Austin late at night, and was picked up at the airport by Scott, the friend who I stayed with on that trip. He and his flat-mate both had to work the next day, so I decided to explore their neighborhood, Hyde Park, enjoying the warm sun especially because it was January, and I had come from a gray Polish winter of deep snow. Hyde Park seemed home to a lot of creative types, judging from the art in the gardens and on the decks, and the ads in the stores for poetry readings and writers’ groups. It was quiet, and it was easy to get around, which was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in some time. I wandered for a good two hours, only stopping when I found a bagel store. That made my morning complete: you couldn’t get a bagel in Poland at the time, and I love the things… I think I bought a dozen, and ate two more there.

Thus satisfied and loaded up, I decided to head home, and slowly made my way back towards the house. I’d gotten about 4, maybe 5 blocks, when the sun vanished like in an eclipse. Before I worked out what was going to happen, gallons of water were pelting down, and I was drenched in seconds. The drops hit like hailstones, I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of me, and the wheel rims got so slick that I couldn’t have moved even if I’d known where to go. I just had to wait it out.

The words drowned and rat probably best describe what I looked like when it finally stopped. The sun came back out just as fast as it had gone away, rainbows formed in the sky, and I sat, dripped and shivered for a few moments. I felt really cold and wet, especially around my butt. I felt like I was sitting in a pool of cold water… in fact, I was. The wheelchair had a waterproof seat cushion, and the water had nowhere to go, so I was now sitting in a few centimeters of water that I had no way to get rid of!

Whoever was responsible for that particular piece of design, may they one day have to experience the same feeling: wet, cold water, clammy underwear, and no way to dry off for a good 12 blocks.

After that, I always made sure that there was a gap somewhere around the seat of my wheelchair to let the rainwater out, because it was the season for sudden rainstorms. A little rain never hurt anyone, but Texan rainstorms can sure inconvenience a rolling traveler who’s not prepared for them.

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