Bidding farewell to the man assigned to deliver me to the Princeton, N.J. train, my inner trembling would have ranked at the high end of the Richter scale of anxiety. "I'm from Ohio. I don't do trains,' I wanted to scream. But I was there as a journalist and a supposed competent person with a disability. So I bravely boarded, managed to find a seat, stash my overnight bag, and engage in some steady “awfulizing.”

        It was, of course, unnecessary. The couple behind me assigned themselves like guardian angels, the minute I asked them to confirm that the upcoming stop was Penn Station. They schlepped my bag, provided verbal cues for smoother navigation, and combed the chaos with me until we found my New York friend.

        That initial fear of being truly solo in a moving mass of strangers with New York attitude (rude, abrupt, inpatient) proved unfounded throughout that first visit, and in my subsequent six or seven return trips. Heading there my first time since 9/11, I naturally wondered if I would find New York — specifically, New Yorkers — different.

Disability savvy

        From street corners to a night at the theater, there is a marked savviness in disability awareness. For any theater on or off Broadway, you can easily find out if there are stairs, ramps, accessible rest rooms, or other relevant features.

        With little trouble, you can find out about infrared systems for people with hearing impairments or descriptive services for people with visual impairments.

        It's not a big deal not to drive, because everybody walks and uses public transportation. The mix of languages and cultures is common, so being different is never a huge surprise.

        Far from the stereotype of being rude or abrupt, New Yorkers before and after 9/11 sturck me as consistently generous. Other pedestrians often offered assistance to me in an off-handed and “hands off” kind of way that was both gratifying and amazing.

        Rather than anything akin to curtness or impatience, I encountered was something like community efficiency.

        If I needed help crossing a street or finding Madison Square Garden, there was no problem finding it; but if I didn't need (or want) any assistance, that was OK with everybody, too.

        When the manager of Macy's fragrance department took a personal interest in canvassing the store with me for t-shirts and trinkets to bring back to my daughters, I thought about how that store is imbued with magic and possibility from my favorite old movie. Maybe there was really an angel, a more modern incarnation of Kris Kringle.

Ever so much more so

        But here's what I really think. I think New York — its energy, its promise, its people — embodies the best elements of what it means to be American, and is more itself now than ever.

        The burgeoning patriotism since 9/11 is irrepressibly present, and yet somehow subdued. There's still plenty of “New York attitude” which, as I see it, is a blend of in-your-face and out-of-your-way and what-can-I-do-to-help that looms even larger with the assimilation of such unspeakable loss. And when those elements are viewed from the perspective of disability, well, the “disability friendly” rating has gotten even higher, too.

        Contact Deborah Kendrick by phone: 673-4474; fax: 321-6430; e-mail: dkkendrick@earthlink.net.

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