I thought I would share this piece, travels and travails in search of the Cleveland Amtrak station, written in response to an invitation from an advocacy group to review the station from the perspective of those with disabilities. Although unsuccessful in attaining the original goal (a first-hand review of the facility), the description earned an unexpected, generous "expense stipend" I'd prefer to tally under "freelance writing fee."

"I apologise for the extreme delay in follow up, after our (botched attempt to) review of the downtown Cleveland Amtrak site on 25 July.

We got hopelessly lost - well, not exactly. We knew where we were, but could not find where we wanted to be; although we had the address, we still couldn't find the Amtrak station. Exhausted and disheartened after nearly 5 hours, with 1/2 tank of gas and $7 in paid parking invested for naught, and feeling very foolish indeed . . . even with the exact street address and directions in advance from googlemaps and mapquest, et al.; with specific, personalised directions from a retired RTA cop friend before going; directions while en route, from a CPD traffic officer near 9th & _____(Lakeside, perhaps?); plentiful, wanna-be You-Are-Here maps near where we parked; and 5 helpful passers-by, in cars and on foot in the general area, one of whom called her co-worker at the Cleveland Visitor's Centre (!) for expert assistance . . . 5 -7 complete circles by car (my silver sedan must have looked like a shark, or a drive-by about to happen, so slowly did we cruise by with the windows down, trying not to miss a sign or obscure turn); close to 3 hours, on foot . . . until we gave up. Unfortunately, my brother had left his mobile charging at home (in Fremont, 2 hours away), mine had run out of minutes, and pay phones are now unbelievably scarce, so we were unable to call you to connect while there.

Yelp and other review sites, from a google search afterward, were unanimous in saying, "hard to find!” What a shock. I have to say our experience backs that up to a tee. Photos and reviews do exist online - overall, lukewarm descriptions of the station's worn interior and almost hidden location - but I found no coverage relevant to the needs and perspectives of disabled individuals. So, what you were doing was important: new information. However, I can add that signage for drivers and pedestrians was contradictory, with arrows pointing in opposite directions (suggesting "thataway" jokes); or misplaced, vaguely aimed at cross streets, or situated after a turn should have been made, and so on. So, maybe not so much foolish, as unprepared and thoroughly confused. Like the downeast story, maybe you cahn’t get they-ah, from he-ah.

In my defense, I'm a seasoned traveller. I've navigated solo as a visitor, aged 12, by public transportation between Chicago’s museums and libraries, shopping districts, parks and suburbs; and successfully returned there for a trade show, some 20 years later by car, finding my way unaided to my novel destination, long before mapquest or GPS. When not much older, I travelled by two trains, a ferry and two subways, from Philadelphia via Elizabeth, NJ, to a relative's home on the Upper West Side in New York, the first time visiting them there. I have also travelled extensively for business (please, ask me about airports) and made arrangements for others regionally and internationally, including supportive services; and have happily got from place to place safely, when abroad myself in unfamiliar territory, even when barely fluent in the local tongue.

Frustrating, to have shown so poorly, so close to home and on familiar ground. I can only imagine how much worse it might have been, had we been attempting to actually catch a train, or picking someone up. I only hope that the rest of the group had a more successful trip with a fruitful outcome. In the event another activity is planned where I might assist . . . please be brave, and do keep me in mind. I support your efforts, and would really like to help.

In the meanwhile, I hope the story provides some entertainment."

This pathetic account either aroused pity, and thus the stipend offer, or something else. Given the circumstances, I think it safe to assume I'd not dazzled with my brilliance . . . leaving: baffled, with my bulls**t, and hoping they come back for more.