Rolling with It: No Ramp, No Problem

When I arrived at the Town School on the Upper East Side, the energy was electric. Excitement hummed in the air; nerves buzzed just beneath the surface.

After four months in NSA’s Speaker U, a boot camp designed to sharpen our speaking skills and build our businesses, we reached the final test.

Saturday was for rehearsing, refining, and absorbing feedback. Sunday was the moment.

We are professionally filmed in an actual auditorium. The camera captures our five-minute talks—our stories, our voices—ready for the world.

There were 12 of us in the cohort: Alisia, Stacey, Sheila, Tina, Tammi, Dionis, Howard, AJ, Lidia, Farhanna, Esma, and me. Over four months, I watched their talks evolve from rough ideas into something personal and powerful. We weren’t just speakers anymore. We were a team, each with a distinct message but united in the experience of bringing it to life.

I had played out my moment in my head many times. But in my version, I wasn’t sidestepping obstacles to get there. Then again, that’s rarely how things go for me.

The First Challenge

The first hurdle was getting inside.

The lift worked—eventually. After some troubleshooting and shifting furniture, I made it in.

Then came the stairs. Five here. Six there. No ramp.

Another lift would take me down to the auditorium. It wouldn’t budge.

Fifteen minutes. Multiple attempts. Nothing.

I sat there, waiting, hoping, feeling that familiar edge of frustration creep in.

Then, finally, it moved.

At last, I made it to the auditorium. One step closer.

Then I looked at the stage.

My thoughts as I approached the stage, accessibility be damned.

No Way Up

Four months of preparation. Countless hours refining my message.

And now, I was at the base of the stage, watching my moment from ground level.

No ramp. No lift. No way up.

I exhaled, letting its weight settle. I had done the work. I was ready. And yet, here I was, stuck.

So, I did what I usually do. I figured out my next move. Before I could sort it out, my Speaker cohort was already in motion.

No hesitation. No debate.

They lifted me onto the stage.

And just like that, I was where I was meant to be, under the lights, looking out, ready to deliver.

I pushed everything else aside—the frustration, the waiting, the obstacles. I wouldn’t let them follow me here.

This was my moment. And I wasn’t about to let anything take it away.

When I finished my first take, they carried me back down.

An Unexpected Detour

Between takes, I needed a bathroom. The lift wasn’t working.

The bathroom on my level? Too small. Is the accessible one upstairs? It is only accessible if the lift works. And it didn’t.

So, we adjusted.

The only solution? Leave the door open while my Speaker U crew stood guard.

Not ideal. But I’ve been there before and made it work.

Then came lunch. More stairs. More lifting.

None of this was new to me. That didn’t make it any less exhausting. But I wasn’t here to dwell. I was here to speak.

Take Two & The Final Challenge

After the break, it was time for my second take.

Another lift onto the stage. Another moment to deliver.

When the filming wrapped, I was ready to go home.

But, of course, the second lift had given out completely.

No way out. No way up.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the frustration pass.

I already knew how this story ended.

Before I could even troubleshoot, my NSA family had it figured out.

One last time, they lifted me, step by step, until I was back outside.

The Real Story

I could tell this story as one of frustration because, believe me, there was plenty of that.

I could focus on the inaccessibility because it was everywhere.

But that’s not what this moment was about.

The real story? People showed up.

My Speaker U cohort and the board didn’t just cheer, encourage, prod, and support me from the sidelines. They carried me, figuratively and literally.

They lifted me, stood guard for me, and figured things out before I even had to ask because that’s what you do for your own.

The day didn’t go as planned. Few days ever do, especially for me.

But I adjusted. We adjusted.

And in the end, I did what I came to do.

That’s the thing about obstacles. You find another way.