Following on from the ramblings of my Day in the Life of Amber, and noting the parents who find that a birthday or other 'special day' often results in chaos for them rather than joy for us, I thought I'd bring you an account of a 'special treat' day out.
We went to watch the international rugby (we being hubby and I - as you'll recall, we're both ASD). This takes planning. Lots of planning. Before I go, I already know the precise train timetables, and alternatives to those in case of emergency. I know what the trains are like because I've been on them before. I know what the stadium is like as I've researched it thoroughly on the internet - photos, plans, etc. I've checked the ticket about seven times, too. And planned what we'll do about food and drink, since these things can't be left to chance.
Off we went. Memorised what to say to the ticket person, though hubby panicked when asked if he wanted a receipt as we hadn't practised that one. Got on the train - found two seats (hooray!). Me next to window so I don't have to look at anyone, hubby promptly getting out a book to read as he can't cope with the train stress without a good book. I promptly fell asleep (which I do when stressed out). Woke up near the destination...it had got very, very crowded on the train, and worse still on the platform. Jostling, pushing, shoving, all like being hit for me because of the touch-sensitivity. I grit my teeth and keep shuffling along with the crowd.
There are police horses! Oh joy! . I love horses. My total focus is now on the horses, not on where I'm going. Must-look-away-from-the-horses! No idea who else is in the crowd - we just find the quietest spot we can and walk along, not thinking to look for anyone we know, really. At the stadium, there is a bag search. Heck, I hate people touching my things and changing the position of everything in there - but I cope. Then through the very narrow cold squeezy barrier thingy and into a huge noisy crowd of people walking about everywhere. Trying so hard not to walk into people. Smells from the food stalls and the beer sellers, thousands of notices and signs, more jostling. If I didn't love rugby, I'd have found a place to hide and stayed there.
Then there's the scary loo challenge. Find a loo. Try not to notice it's freezing cold in there and very smelly. Try not to notice the seat is even more freezing cold, and the water in the taps is like ice, and the paper hand towels are scratchy. Hubby has found the bar and has got me a glass of wine, which steadies my nerves a little. Now to find our seats. Goodness me, there's a new way up to the seats...a sort of giant helter-skelter of a concrete something you have to walk up, and up, and up. Didn't expect that, so that's another big stress. Found the seats. Very very difficult to get to because the ledge is so narrow and my sense of balance is awful and there's no handholds. Phew, made it. Sit down, and realise that it's SO squashed in. The man behind me can't help but dig his knees into my back (ow), the person in front has to lean back against my knees, the lady to my right is trying hard to squeeze in but we're squashed up against each other...and the noise from the crowd is just deafening. Any breeze in the cold air feels like sandpaper, too.
I notice there's wheelchair-accessible loos, and space for them, and parking for them. I wish there was for us .
At the end of the match, more jostling for an hour to get out, more trying not to fall over on steps that have no rail to hold on to. Then a really scary moment when the police closed off the barrier in front of me with a few grumpy comments and I thought I'd done something wrong and they were going to be cross - but they were just letting the traffic go past. Phew. Remember to breathe, Amber...
Eventually at the train station again. We get a seat on the train! (Only way to do that is to pay first class, but otherwise I wouldn't be able to do the crowded train at all ). Very very tired indeed.
So, special days out are often a sensory nightmare and one unexpected and scary surprise after another. With enough planning, I can do them, though.