Pirouettes on Wheels: Ballet Without the Blisters
My whole life, I had never stayed at a hotel in New York City. My family has been in the city for ages, and I was an NYU student for four years—dormed my first year, then rented with my parents’ help for the next three. But this time, I stayed at the Fairfield Inn Central Park, near the iconic Lincoln Center.
It was a nice change of pace. First, because I was within walking distance of Lincoln Center, where—funny enough—I would be attending my first-ever show. Lincoln Center is as iconic as the 9/11 Memorial (though way less depressing), the MoMA, the Met, Times Square, or your first real stroll through Central Park. And yet, in all four years of undergrad, I had never been. This particular show was part of an event hosted by Dateability, a dating app for the disabled community—an alternative to the horror stories of Bumble and Tinder and a way to take a break from Hinge, the more disability-friendly option.
It was quite the weekend for learning about all abilities. On my train ride from the Berkshires, I saw a woman casually using sign language to chat with her friend. It was great to see because, outside of live televised sporting events, I rarely witness ASL being used so naturally in everyday life. It made me wonder—what’s it like processing the world in a way that stands out, like a thumbtack in a cushion? There are some similarities to Duchenne. You might feel nervous about being noticed or stuck in awkward stares, but at some point, you just roll with it.
For the big night, I took my close friend Kate as my date. We strolled into the elevator, her rocking a cute red blouse, me in my shiny Burberry coat, wearing my Uggs like I’m Tom Brady. The NYC Ballet doesn’t mess around. The first set felt like an out-of-body experience—this goddess-like woman (think the Starbucks logo but with legs) danced with a man dressed like a Scottish bagpiper. The dance symbolized lifting the man out of depression into a state of joy and euphoria. The second set had four set changes that looked like stunning Impressionist paintings brought to life.
On the way out, I was surrounded by a mix of old-money Upper West Siders and fashion-forward New Yorkers in chic boots and designer bags. It felt like I was at the Met Opera— another NYC bucket-list item I’ll tackle soon.
Since graduating, I’ve moved home for the first time—two and a half hours outside the city. Staying in a hotel made it hit home: nothing is permanent. I’ll be back in the city one day, visiting often, but right now, I’m home—blogging, podcasting, and keeping up the corporate healthcare job hunt. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up in Boston, the hub of pharmaceuticals. Maybe I’ll go the agency route and work in-house back in NYC. For now, I take the Hudson Amtrak upstate, close my eyes, and smile about how unexpectedly moving a ballet can be.
It’s about stepping into a strange, enchanting world—like The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland— before finding your way back home. In my case, home was dancing with a goddess, soaking in the beauty of life, sitting beside my date, and seeing rows of wheelchair users beyond my view.
The show had me so mesmerized that I lost track of everything—including my own needs. By the time I left, I realized I hadn’t used the restroom all day, and with no accessible Uber or bathroom in sight, there was no holding it anymore. One rogue coffee finally caught up to me.
Typically, I carry a Travel John—a compact, disposable urinal designed for emergencies—but my wheelchair side bag had been removed after too many close calls with doorways. So, no Travel John, no backup plan—just me, my black wheelchair (thankfully), and the slow realization that I had two hours before I could shower. (Tagging @TravelJohn here might just be the start of a beautiful partnership— because trust me, I won’t be caught without one again!)
As I sat there, damp and reflective, I thought—was this a nightmare or just part of the adventure? Maybe one day, I’ll have my dance with a real-life goddess—someone human, funny, who enjoys companionship and, who knows, maybe even becomes my future wife. All jokes aside, I’d take a Broadway show or a Knicks game any day over ballet. But I’m glad I gave it a shot. It was an incredibly accessible experience—bathroom scare aside. And hey, if you’re going to pee in broad daylight, at least make sure your wheelchair is black.
