Cerys grew up in rural Wales and now lives in London. Her work as a Youth Justice Caseworker requires her to travel across London regularly. Though Cerys says that travel can be full of excitement, discovery and adventure, she describes it as a game of chance with very high stakes for autistic people:
 

"Travel is usually a sensory minefield filled with noise, unexpected changes, and overwhelming crowds. The Tube can feel like a labyrinth, noisy, crowded, chaotic, a maze with no ending. I’m constantly scanning for quiet spaces and exits, just in case. I’ve found myself frozen in the middle of a packed station, desperately trying to regulate, hopping on and off the Tube like a yo-yo to catch my breath and feel like myself again. 

 

Overcrowding is probably the most challenging part. On longer train journeys, it’s not uncommon to be crammed in like sardines. There have been times when even the staff couldn’t get through the carriages. You can feel vulnerable. You feel invisible." 

Cerys describes needing to take breaks in her journey on the underground, to recover from the overwhelming experience. Many of the autistic people we surveyed described similar difficulties with completing their travel without breaks. While underground travel often allows the flexibility for Cerys and others to do this, it’s often not possible to break and resume a journey on the same bus or train ticket. This can lead to people struggling on, causing high distress and longer recovery, or abandoning their journey in unfamiliar places for an escape, often then relying on a help from friends/family, or an expensive taxi journey to get to their destination. Cerys sometimes ‘gives up’ with public transport journeys, choosing a taxi because ‘the predictability is a lifeline.’ 

Unexpected changes can be some of the most damaging of autistic people’s travel experiences. Though unpredictability can affect everyone's journeys, the impact can be greater for people like Cerys, who remembers feeling abandoned and lost:
 

"A train delay or a last-minute route change can send my anxiety spiralling. I remember once when a train unexpectedly terminated at Reading. The announcements were garbled, and there was no clear support. I was left standing there, feeling stranded, anxious, and completely alone."

One of the support services which Cerys has found helpful, particularly when dealing with unexpected journey changes, is Passenger Assist. While the provision, quality, and availability varies by area and service, she had a significantly better journey with the support she received:
 

"I was making a long journey on a particularly tough day when everything felt like too much. My anxiety tipped into sensory overload. I messaged the train company via WhatsApp, explained that I was autistic and struggling, and their response was honestly a game changer. They alerted the train manager, who moved me into First Class. It was quieter, calmer, and I finally felt safe.

 

When that train ended early, the Passenger Assist team were there waiting for me. They helped with my bags, guided me onto the next train, and when I arrived in London, someone else was waiting to walk me to my rideshare. That kind of care turned what could’ve been a horrible experience into something manageable, even positive."

Cerys also notes that sensory safe spaces on board shouldn’t be limited to first class but available to all, whether using passenger assistance or not. It is also not always simple for autistic people to request and receive support. Like many autistic people we spoke to, Cerys feels judged by others for her autistic traits, and isn’t always believed when disclosing her needs to staff. Though some people find it helpful to use a sunflower lanyard or similar tool, others prefer more anonymity. Like Cerys, many autistic people rightly expect a basic respect and non-judgemental understanding of hidden disabilities from staff, even without using the lanyard:
 

"Too often, I’ve been met with scepticism when I ask for support. I’ve had staff tell me I “look fine” and imply I shouldn’t expect help. During shutdowns, when I go quiet, people assume I’m drunk or just being awkward. They don’t realise I’m completely overloaded. Some have suggested I wear a sunflower lanyard but honestly, I think disclosure should be my choice. I shouldn’t need to wear a symbol around my neck just to be treated with empathy."

To make public transport more accessible for her, Cerys feels it would help if there was:   
 

• Comprehensive autism training for staff to improve their understanding and respect for autistic people
• More easily identifiable trained staff at stations and on trains, especially when things go wrong
• Quiet carriages in standard class where autistic people can decompress, free from constant noise and rushing
• An appointed, dedicated neurodiversity support worker for every train service – someone trained to offer calm, compassionate assistance when things don’t go to plan
• Provision of earplugs or ear inserts which filter sound and reduce distortion, in environments where noise is intense
• Announcements in visual, as well as audio form
• Clear options for people to disclose their needs, request support or book Passenger Assistance, at the time of ticket booking

"Travelling as an autistic person doesn’t have to be a battle. With the right changes, we could make public transport safer, calmer, and genuinely inclusive. So many of us are already masking and pretending we’re fine, a little bit of extra support could ease so much of that burden. The world is loud enough we need to create spaces where everyone, no matter how their brain works, can move through it with confidence."