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Marcia Frost doesn’t wait for permission. She never has. The world isn’t built for everyone, but that has never stopped her from carving out a space for herself, one city, one airport, one bumpy cobblestone street at a time. If you ask her why she travels, she’ll tell you it’s in her DNA. Her father, with his club foot and stubborn determination, packed up the car every summer and took the family across the country. Her mother, who had polio, never saw a wheelchair as a reason to stay home.
Now, Marcia is the one in the power wheelchair. And she’s still moving.
The wheelchair didn’t change the plan—It just added logistics
The first time Marcia traveled alone in her wheelchair, it was challenging. That’s travel, after all. The flight is delayed, the hotel “forgot” they promised an accessible room, the bus driver swears they can lift a 388-pound wheelchair into the back (they cannot). But after all the chaos, there’s that moment. The first sip of a perfect cappuccino in a city you’ve never been to. The way the air smells different in a place where history has settled into the streets. The sound of a new language, the hum of a different way of life. That’s why she keeps going.
People like to romanticize travel. And sure, it’s got its magic. But Marcia will tell you the truth: travel is a series of problem-solving exercises wrapped in a shiny Instagram filter. The trick? Figuring out how to enjoy it anyway.
The unexpected adventures
Marcia isn’t looking to jump out of airplanes or climb Mount Everest. That’s not her kind of adventure. Her version is navigating the streets of Boston’s historic district, realizing too late that cobblestones are the mortal enemy of a wheelchair user. It’s battling airport snowstorms, surviving an unexpected two-day layover after surgery, and laughing in disbelief when a hotel staff member suggests she should squeeze into a room where there’s no space to turn.
Adventure, for her, is figuring out a way forward when every path seems blocked. And, more importantly, making it fun.
Lessons from the road (or the cruise ship)
Cruises, Marcia insists, are a wheelchair user’s best friend. One place to unpack. No worrying about accessibility between destinations. The growing number of accessible excursions means the world is opening up in ways that it never has before. She still remembers when her mother had to pay a small fortune to rent an accessible van just to see Hawaii. Now? Alaska, Greece, and beyond are starting to understand that accessibility isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity.
But the number one lesson? Assume nothing. Accessibility means different things to different people, and some places still think a wheelchair user can be hoisted up a flight of stairs like a sack of potatoes. Marcia now calls ahead. She asks the uncomfortable questions. Because nothing is worse than getting somewhere and realizing they don’t actually have what you need.
Marcia’s got the battle scars (and the wisdom) to make things a little easier for anyone else rolling into their next vacation. Here’s what she’s learned:
Luggage strategy: Ship your bags ahead of time. It sounds fancy, but it’s often cheaper than checking them on a flight, and it means less hassle navigating the airport.
Accessible transport? Confirm. Then confirm again. UberWAV and LyftWAV are lifesavers—when they exist. Outside of major cities, wheelchair-friendly transportation is a roll of the dice.
Airline miles are your best friend. Marcia racks them up through credit cards, hotel bookings, and shopping. They make upgrades, lounge access, and even whole flights way more affordable.
Hotels are a gamble. Don’t trust online listings. Call ahead. Ask about door width, bed height, and whether their definition of “accessible” means “has a grab bar” but no actual wheelchair space.
Pack the non-negotiables. A power bank for your phone (emergencies happen). Extra meds. Snacks. Hand sanitizer. A heating pad for those long travel days. Anything you rely on at home, assume you’ll need it on the road.
Give yourself more time than you think you need. If you have somewhere important to be, arrive a day early. The universe loves to throw travel curveballs.
Ask for help. People are often kinder than you expect. Some even hesitate, not wanting to offend. Marcia’s response? “I have no problem accepting help—it makes my life easier, and it makes other people feel useful. Win-win.”
Why it’s never too late to start travelling
Marcia has met people who have never left their hometowns. People who think it’s too late, too difficult or too much. She gets it. Travel can be exhausting. But it also shakes up your perspective. It reminds you that the world is bigger than your daily routine, that people live in all kinds of ways, and that even with all the nonsense—flight delays, inaccessible sidewalks, frustrating hotels—it’s still worth it.
Because travel isn’t about proving anything. It’s about experiencing, such as sitting by the ocean at sunset, taking a sip of something local, and thinking, “I’m really here.” And that? That’s always worth it!
