This past summer in Minneapolis was unseasonably cool, and in my last EasyStand Blog post I analyzed the number of ways that, from someone with a spinal cord injury’s perspective, This Summer Deserves a High-Five. Check it out.
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
New EasyStand Blog post: 17 Things I’ve Learned Since My SCI
In my latest EasyStand Blog post I cover the 17 Things I’ve Learned Since My SCI. It’s the longest post (or at least second longest) I wrote for them, but I took an in depth analysis of a lot of ups and downs of 17 years worth of living with a spinal cord injury. Cheers.
Friday, August 31, 2012
New EasyStand Blog post: Gaining a Numb Perspective on Disability Issues
My new EasyStand Blog post discusses how as the years have passed since my SCI my perspective on crappy disability issues like parking and inaccessibility has numbed. So please check out “Gaining a Numb Perspective on Disability Issues.”
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Ignorant Side of Macy’s Holiday Holidazzle
Almost two years ago now I wrote this post in this blog’s Annoying/Aggravating/Interesting Access Picture of the Week series featuring the picture below of an elevator button at the downtown Minneapolis Macy’s store labeled “For Handicap Use Only Middle Car Call.” At the time I posted the picture to make two observations: 1) to point out that the use of the word “handicap” was somewhere between poor word choice and offensive to people with disabilities (using handicapped, disability, or accessible would be much more PC) and 2) to question the chances of able-bodied folks actually deferring priority use of the elevator to people with disabilities as is intended.
My initial inclination to the latter was that no they wouldn’t because I’ve seen too many instances over the years where in busy stores like Macy’s every man for himself mentalities often butt ahead of proper etiquette. Even when it comes to matters of disability access and accessibility. And especially during the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. Being a wheelchair user I am of the opinion that I should get priority to any parking spot or ramp or elevator that I need to use over anybody that can walk, every single time, in any circumstance. Period. But unfortunately that is not the case fairly often.
But interestingly enough I got a first-hand answer to the notion above with this specific elevator two days ago when I went to the downtown Minneapolis Macy’s 8th Floor Holiday Display with my parents and my girlfriend. As we approached the bank of elevators I could see that there was already a buildup of people waiting for the next elevator to open up. It was mostly couples, families, and people with child strollers. The people with strollers had a much more genuine reason to use the elevators but the rest could have easily used the escalators that were nearby instead. Having used this bank of elevators about a dozen times over the past few years to use the Macy’s skyway to go to legal conferences in the adjacent City Center I positioned myself right by the elevator in the picture above. But as each elevator door opened nobody got off, nobody made room, nobody paid attention to the disability label on that cart. In fact, people were so impatient to get upstairs to the 8th floor display that they started getting on the elevators to go down one floor just so that they could already be on it when it went up again.
But the most ignorant and interesting part of the story occurred as we were on our way out. After we went through the 8th floor display we went down to the lower level to the café to maybe hunt up a snack. As we were going through the same busy elevator ordeal as before on our way back up to the first floor I again positioned myself near the disability specific elevator cart. To my right was an impatient woman with a baby stroller who was standing right by the sign above and would push the button every time a full cart came down and went back up again. The first elevator cart with enough room for me, my wheelchair, my parents, and girlfriend to fit in we jumped on. As the door closed my girlfriend said that she felt like punching a woman. I asked why and her reason was that apparently the woman by the elevator button said in a real snotty tone something like, “Try waiting in line next time” to us as we got on the elevator.
So to be clear, the very able-bodied woman who was standing right by the sign that designated the elevator for disability use only, who was in fact pushing the button on that sign herself, and watched a person in a wheelchair get on the elevator ahead of her had the audacity to gripe about us allegedly cutting in line for the elevator. That is holiday holidazzle ignorance at it’s finest, folks. Had I heard her say that I would have backed right out again, whether I got separated from my family and girlfriend or not, and chewed that lady out to set her straight. You know, in the true holiday spirit of accessibility advocacy.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
New EasyStand Blog Guest Post: Like, Totally 80’s Music Video Based Disability Perspective
My latest guest post on the EasyStand Blog went live today. I turn an aspect of a classic 80's music video into a statement of my very unique "2-way mirror" disability/able-bodied life perspective on account of my SCI.
So please check it out: Like, Totally 80’s Music Video Based Disability Perspective.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Observations from Camp Randall: UW v. Michigan 11/14/09
Last Saturday's game against Michigan (a 45-24 throttling of the Wolverines) was the Badger's final home game of the season, and just like that another Fall of good times, not to mention interesting adventures going to and from my seats on game days, comes to a close. I will be taking a trip down to Madison to see the Hockey Classic at Camp Randall in February, but I won't be sitting in my stadium seats again until Fall 2010. The season always seems so long at the onset, but then when I leave the stadium for the very last time near Thanksgiving I always wonder how it seemed to pass by so quickly. Sigh. Onto the final 2009 installment of Observation from Camp Randall:
Observation #1: The tailgate is in full swing. I took my good buddy Ryan. My rehab nurse from 1996, who I've stayed in contact with over the years, was in town for the game and her and her husband had just stopped by. Another good buddy and fellow Badger superfan John, who I hadn't seen in over a year, had just stopped by. Cold beverages and friendly conversation was in high gear. Then out of the blue a gentleman in his mid-sixties butts in, explains that he and his sick wife, who he points out is sitting across the street on a bus stop bench taking a rest, are on the way into the game, and he was wondering if he couldn't score a few beers from us if we had any to spare. As he started to pull out his wallet to pay for them we all did a collective "Huh?" Ryan grabbed one, told him it would be no cost, and that since his wife was sick she probably didn't need one herself. He thanked us, muttered something about if we ever stopped by his station that we were good in his book, then disappeared. Only outside Camp Randall Stadium on a Badger football game day would something like that happen. And that in such an atmosphere your only true reaction is to just shrug and carry on with the tailgate action.
Observation #2: I took the picture below to further take people along my path into the stadium and up the elevator. In a previous post I took a picture of the line out the door and noted that the room with the elevator was up to the right. This is that room. The elevator is to the left below that TV. One person in a wheelchair was in front of me at this point.
Apparently, it was lost on everyone but me that the able-bodied couple who planned to sit in the wheelchair section but didn't use a wheelchair probably didn't need to ride on the elevator. That was pretty much a succinct anecdotal summation on the way the whole elevator thing went this year: seemingly everyone was allowed to use the elevator despite it technically being reserved for patrons with disabilities. That said, as far as I'm concerned The Captain needs to get himself a Tennille, a piano keyboard, and change professions because he was not very good at properly managing an elevator designed to give priority to people with disabilities. I still shake my head about when he told me there was no more room on the cart for a wheelchair earlier in the season. Hello?
Observation #4: This guy. That's all that needs to be said I think. He was wearing a head to toe plaid leisure suit and matching corduroy hat. To a Badger football game. Fantastic. He stood next to me for the better part of the third quarter and finally I just couldn't help but snap a pic because I was so blown away by his threads: easily the craziest looking outfit (student section aside) that I've ever seen anyone wear to a game in eleven years of having season tickets. And I live in a state where people wear blaze orange hunting garb to the stadium when it gets cold out.
Observation #1: The tailgate is in full swing. I took my good buddy Ryan. My rehab nurse from 1996, who I've stayed in contact with over the years, was in town for the game and her and her husband had just stopped by. Another good buddy and fellow Badger superfan John, who I hadn't seen in over a year, had just stopped by. Cold beverages and friendly conversation was in high gear. Then out of the blue a gentleman in his mid-sixties butts in, explains that he and his sick wife, who he points out is sitting across the street on a bus stop bench taking a rest, are on the way into the game, and he was wondering if he couldn't score a few beers from us if we had any to spare. As he started to pull out his wallet to pay for them we all did a collective "Huh?" Ryan grabbed one, told him it would be no cost, and that since his wife was sick she probably didn't need one herself. He thanked us, muttered something about if we ever stopped by his station that we were good in his book, then disappeared. Only outside Camp Randall Stadium on a Badger football game day would something like that happen. And that in such an atmosphere your only true reaction is to just shrug and carry on with the tailgate action.
Observation #2: I took the picture below to further take people along my path into the stadium and up the elevator. In a previous post I took a picture of the line out the door and noted that the room with the elevator was up to the right. This is that room. The elevator is to the left below that TV. One person in a wheelchair was in front of me at this point.
Observation #3: The guy to the right in the picture below is the guy who manned the elevator all season long. I call him "The Captain" because he always wore that silly looking captain-esque hat. As I was snapping this pic an able-bodied couple behind me asked The Captain which elevator level they get off on to get to their seats. There's always a bit of confusion about that because nothing inside or outside the elevator clearly marks which seat sections coincide with what elevator level. Heck, it took me until this season to know with confidence that I was going to Section 5. Anyway, the following exchange occurred:
Able-bodied guy: What level do these seats go to?
The Captain: What section?
Able-bodied guy: WC.
The Captain: WC? Yeah, that's the wheelchair section, Level 5.
Able-bodied guy: Thanks.
Apparently, it was lost on everyone but me that the able-bodied couple who planned to sit in the wheelchair section but didn't use a wheelchair probably didn't need to ride on the elevator. That was pretty much a succinct anecdotal summation on the way the whole elevator thing went this year: seemingly everyone was allowed to use the elevator despite it technically being reserved for patrons with disabilities. That said, as far as I'm concerned The Captain needs to get himself a Tennille, a piano keyboard, and change professions because he was not very good at properly managing an elevator designed to give priority to people with disabilities. I still shake my head about when he told me there was no more room on the cart for a wheelchair earlier in the season. Hello?
Observation #4: This guy. That's all that needs to be said I think. He was wearing a head to toe plaid leisure suit and matching corduroy hat. To a Badger football game. Fantastic. He stood next to me for the better part of the third quarter and finally I just couldn't help but snap a pic because I was so blown away by his threads: easily the craziest looking outfit (student section aside) that I've ever seen anyone wear to a game in eleven years of having season tickets. And I live in a state where people wear blaze orange hunting garb to the stadium when it gets cold out. Occasional access and frequent elevator woes aside, it was still another fine season of Wisconsin Badger football at Camp Randall Stadium this year. Lot's of awesome football was played, lot's of big team wins, and lot's of fun was had. I already can't wait until the first game next year!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Observations from Camp Randall: UW v. Michigan State 9/26/09
All in all a pretty stellar Badger game day on Saturday. It started with me getting the chance to take my brother-in-law Ryan to his first ever Badger game at Camp Randall Stadium. I always love seeing how in awe first timers are of the whole home Badger game day experience. Then it ultimately ended with a real solid win against Michigan State, 38-30 (what the final score doesn't reveal is that it was practically a blow out). Here are my observations in between:
Observation #1: The line for the elevator was fairly long once again. See the picture just below for my view from the back of the line. The main room for the elevator is up and around the corner to the right, just in front of the person wearing the red jacket.
As I was taking this picture on my phone I overheard this gentleman behind me say: “Jeez, is the line for the elevator always this long?” I muttered to my brother-in-law, “Yeah because too many people like you try and use it instead of taking the ramps or stairs like you should.”
Observation #2: The elevator itself is pretty spacious so by the time the it got back down to the bottom level everybody in front of me was able to pile in. But it was full by the time it was my turn to get on so I was the cutoff, which lead to this interesting exchange with the elevator attendant:
Him: “Sorry, no more room for wheelchairs on this trip.”
Me, looking in to see not one person in a wheelchair or with a notable disability: “Yeah, I see that.”
Everything that was wrong with his statement was completely lost on him and everyone else already on the elevator. Again, it’s become an ‘every man for himself’ mentality with that elevator so of course no one bothered to offer to give up their spot for me and wait for the next trip. I couldn’t get my phone up quickly enough to snap a pic of the full able-bodied cart before the door closed, but while I was thinking about that missed opportunity my brolaw sent me this text: “Wasted elevator trip not one person who actually need the elevator.” Indeed.
Observation #3: When the elevator came back down I was the first one to get on. So I went to the back and spun around quickly so that I didn’t have to face the back wall the whole ride up. Then another guy in a chair came on and followed suit right in front of me. But when he backed up he came back so far that he started to smash my foot. Since I couldn’t back up any more I gave my knee a quick slap from the outside to move my foot over a bit to unjam my toes without making a scene. I only point this out because I always have much more awareness about how close me and my chair are to others. I'm over-sensitive to it in fact. So that was intriguing.
Then as the elevator door was closing there was a call from the first floor attendant: “Hold the door, we have a few more walking people that can fit.” Again, a statement lost on just about everyone else involved. And on to the elevator came a couple and their 18 month old child.
Observation #4: Somewhere in the second or third quarter of the game I overheard the following exchange between two stadium concession guys. They were leaning on the pillar in the picture below, which is directly to my left about three feet (people lean there to watch the game all the time and the security guy assigned to our section is usually much more focused on chit chatting with passersby than telling the lingerers to find their seats):
Guy 1: “So we’ve got 72 buns but only 15 more hotdogs left. So my question to you is this: can we get some more meat?”
Guy 2: “Absolutely, absolutely.”
Then they walked away, easily making for the most obscure conversation I’ve ever paid witness to at the stadium.
Observation #5: My brolaw and I stuck around for most of the Fifth Quarter since it was his first time seeing such a thing. So when we got to the elevator we had it all to ourselves at first because there was no one else waiting, which has become a rare occurence. After I pushed the button I looked up and noticed, possibly for the first time, a sign on the wall just above it that read: 'Please reserve the use of this elevator for our patrons with disabilities.' As Ryan and I both commented on the sign that same couple with their young child got in line for the ride down again. So much for reserving for people with disabilities.
I rode down at the back of the elevator cart next to a young couple. Behind me there was a combination of a slow door close and more people trying to pile on. Presumably annoyed by the waiting period the girl said to her boyfriend, “Maybe we should have just taken the stairs.” He said, “Yeah.” Yeah, indeed. Then he said, “But the stairs smell like garbage.” Hmm, so is that that why nobody seems to take the stairs around here?
Regardless, as we were leaving the stadium I decided that I needed to figure out what University of Wisconsin official I could get in contact with to get this whole situation fixed before I go to the next game. Through its clearly posted signage the stadium itself has put people on notice that the elevator should be used primarily for people with disabilities. Yet over the last two seasons it’s become obvious both that too many fans without disabilities are frequently using the elevator and also that elevator staff members are doing a very poor job making sure that people with disabilities should always get near exclusive priority use. The fact that a wheelchair user like myself routinely gets bumped for a cart full of able-bodied folks, and that I often risk missing the start of the game because of it, has become a total farce. Enough is enough.
Observation #1: The line for the elevator was fairly long once again. See the picture just below for my view from the back of the line. The main room for the elevator is up and around the corner to the right, just in front of the person wearing the red jacket.
As I was taking this picture on my phone I overheard this gentleman behind me say: “Jeez, is the line for the elevator always this long?” I muttered to my brother-in-law, “Yeah because too many people like you try and use it instead of taking the ramps or stairs like you should.”Observation #2: The elevator itself is pretty spacious so by the time the it got back down to the bottom level everybody in front of me was able to pile in. But it was full by the time it was my turn to get on so I was the cutoff, which lead to this interesting exchange with the elevator attendant:
Him: “Sorry, no more room for wheelchairs on this trip.”
Me, looking in to see not one person in a wheelchair or with a notable disability: “Yeah, I see that.”
Everything that was wrong with his statement was completely lost on him and everyone else already on the elevator. Again, it’s become an ‘every man for himself’ mentality with that elevator so of course no one bothered to offer to give up their spot for me and wait for the next trip. I couldn’t get my phone up quickly enough to snap a pic of the full able-bodied cart before the door closed, but while I was thinking about that missed opportunity my brolaw sent me this text: “Wasted elevator trip not one person who actually need the elevator.” Indeed.
Observation #3: When the elevator came back down I was the first one to get on. So I went to the back and spun around quickly so that I didn’t have to face the back wall the whole ride up. Then another guy in a chair came on and followed suit right in front of me. But when he backed up he came back so far that he started to smash my foot. Since I couldn’t back up any more I gave my knee a quick slap from the outside to move my foot over a bit to unjam my toes without making a scene. I only point this out because I always have much more awareness about how close me and my chair are to others. I'm over-sensitive to it in fact. So that was intriguing.
Then as the elevator door was closing there was a call from the first floor attendant: “Hold the door, we have a few more walking people that can fit.” Again, a statement lost on just about everyone else involved. And on to the elevator came a couple and their 18 month old child.
Observation #4: Somewhere in the second or third quarter of the game I overheard the following exchange between two stadium concession guys. They were leaning on the pillar in the picture below, which is directly to my left about three feet (people lean there to watch the game all the time and the security guy assigned to our section is usually much more focused on chit chatting with passersby than telling the lingerers to find their seats):
Guy 1: “So we’ve got 72 buns but only 15 more hotdogs left. So my question to you is this: can we get some more meat?”Guy 2: “Absolutely, absolutely.”
Then they walked away, easily making for the most obscure conversation I’ve ever paid witness to at the stadium.
Observation #5: My brolaw and I stuck around for most of the Fifth Quarter since it was his first time seeing such a thing. So when we got to the elevator we had it all to ourselves at first because there was no one else waiting, which has become a rare occurence. After I pushed the button I looked up and noticed, possibly for the first time, a sign on the wall just above it that read: 'Please reserve the use of this elevator for our patrons with disabilities.' As Ryan and I both commented on the sign that same couple with their young child got in line for the ride down again. So much for reserving for people with disabilities.
I rode down at the back of the elevator cart next to a young couple. Behind me there was a combination of a slow door close and more people trying to pile on. Presumably annoyed by the waiting period the girl said to her boyfriend, “Maybe we should have just taken the stairs.” He said, “Yeah.” Yeah, indeed. Then he said, “But the stairs smell like garbage.” Hmm, so is that that why nobody seems to take the stairs around here?Regardless, as we were leaving the stadium I decided that I needed to figure out what University of Wisconsin official I could get in contact with to get this whole situation fixed before I go to the next game. Through its clearly posted signage the stadium itself has put people on notice that the elevator should be used primarily for people with disabilities. Yet over the last two seasons it’s become obvious both that too many fans without disabilities are frequently using the elevator and also that elevator staff members are doing a very poor job making sure that people with disabilities should always get near exclusive priority use. The fact that a wheelchair user like myself routinely gets bumped for a cart full of able-bodied folks, and that I often risk missing the start of the game because of it, has become a total farce. Enough is enough.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Observations from Camp Randall: UW v. Fresno State 9/12/09
Other than the usual BS I encounter battling the masses of 80,000+ to and from the stadium I don’t have any Camp Randall observations to report this week that have to do with instances of accessible and disability dichotomies. I think that last week was unusual, even based on previous years of experiences, because I encountered so many in the same day. But going into a slightly different direction I am happy to share what was arguably the strangest encounter I’ve ever had leaving the stadium in eleven years of having season tickets.
To quickly set the stage, by the time the game hit the middle of the 4th quarter I started to get pretty hot, which meant that a cold drink was the best quick fix. But with only five minutes or so left in the game the kids that sell drinks had quit running around, and it’s not worth paying the $4 for a Coke at that point anyway. Ditto for the $4 water bottles of water they sell (ridiculous, don’t even get me started). Additionally, there are no water bubblers on my seat level and I sure as hell wasn’t about to go stick my mouth under a bathroom faucet that 1000’s of other fans had used all day. So I decided to just wait it out until we got back to my van. At that time it looked like we would be pulling out a tightly fought victory in mere minutes.
Well that had to be the day that we couldn’t close it out, Fresno state tied the game late, and on to overtime we went. By the time the team won in thrilling fashion after two full overtime periods about a half hour later I was in desperate need of a cool breeze and a chilled beverage. Because there was another big line for the elevator we just decided to take the ramps down instead. As I mentioned previously, I'm at a stage in my life where it’s worth waiting in line for the elevator to reduce wear and tear on my wheelchair. But on hot days like Saturday even waiting in line for more than a couple minutes gets me agitated because of the extra body heat floating around a closed area. Kind of makes my heat issues worse. At least when you take the ramps you often get a strong cross breeze, which was a welcome thing at that moment.
Of course that decision was proven to be a loser when we got caught in the crowd one ramp level down. The breeze was still welcome but the foot by foot slow trotting got frustrating because it gets hard on my chair – it’s either a lot of clicking in and out of gear or barely rolling which I assume gets hard on the drivetrain.
One ramp turn downward and I noticed another gentleman in a wheelchair coming down behind me on the ramp level just above. We exchanged a polite head nod, not unlike how my dad salutes fellow Harley dudes when he’s on his motorcycle. Behind him I noticed a woman in her mid 30’s on a blue scooter and thought nothing else of it. But with each ramp level we went down I noticed that she kept getting closer and closer. About halfway down she was a dozen and a half feet behind me on the same level, aggressively weaving her way through the throngs of people. Now I was trying to execute the same strategy, albeit much more politely, except I was stuck behind a group of senior citizens and was much more focused on not getting hit by the seat cushions they were swinging with each step.
The next thing I knew she was pretty close behind me. Another turn to the next ramp down and she was right on my hip. Barely worth giving a second thought to at first. Then it got weird. At the time I was towards the middle of the aisle but she started forcing me to the inside toward the wall so she had enough room to pass me on the outside. I tried to stay true to my current line but we almost banged wheels so I had to turn it in slightly to avoid collision. And so this went for a little while. Ridiculous. Not sure why passing me was so imperative. Proper etiquette in that situation typically dictates that you wait your turn. Instead she turned it into some wheelchair/scooter version of NASCAR. Which incidentally I can’t decide if it would be the kind of über lame sport you’d only see at 3am on ESPN2 after World’s Strongest Man or a YouTube nation ratings blitzkrieg. I'm inclined to lean toward the latter.
Anyway, we damn near trade paint for about a hundred more feet until she makes another series of aggressive moves and shoots her way past me and through the crowd in front of us. By the time I popped out at the bottom of the ramps I saw her across the way rolling full tilt, weaving through traffic, and cutting people off.
Bigger picture what this whole scenario did was further exacerbate this unspoken rivalry I feel like I’ve always had with scooter people. And my main premise for that rivalry can best be illustrated with a question/answer that I might have seen on my high school ACT exam: wheelchair is to permanent mode of disability mobility, as scooter is to mostly temporary mode of disability mobility.
Now that is not to insinuate that all scooter users have temporary disabilities because many folks do rely on scooters for their primary mobility purposes. But what I am saying is that in the vast, vast majority of instances where I have seen people in scooters they have pretty substantial use of their legs and can even walk certain distances without their scooter (e.g. a lady in my building used her scooter and mostly effortless walking ability interchangeably). People that have significant, permanent, physical disabilities that effect their every day all day ability to walk and move around are going to be seen using a wheelchair for their mobility device because wheelchairs have custom accessories (e.g. seat cushions, backrests, individual foot rests) designed to maintain all day support and body integrity. Most scooters I’ve seen come with a standard foam seat like you see on the captain’s chair on a pontoon boat, a flat floor surface for the feet, and steering handles. Everything about it screams ‘temporary ride.’
Now I have over thirteen years worth of experience in the disability world and thus a much more sophisticated eye when it comes to spotting the intricacies of other disabilities. So I could quickly assess that this particular scooter woman appeared to be mostly able-bodied due to the fact that she had full hand function and because one of her feet was casually cocked up on the right front of her scooter (i.e. she could move her legs). But I would venture to say that if your average person with no experience with disabilities whatsoever looked at me in my wheelchair and then another person in a scooter right next to me they would probably see that we both were sitting, we both weren’t walking, and we both were riding four wheeled mobility devices and they would no doubt just surmise that we both have the “same thing going on” disability-wise.
So when I see what under a pretty objective set circumstances appears to be a mostly able-bodied person on a scooter, coming from the wheelchair section, weaving people aggressively down the ramp, rudely saying ‘excuse me’ (she wasn’t but I’ve seen plenty of people do that before), forcing me inside so she can pass me, running full tilt with lots of people around, cutting people off, etc. and catching looks from “average” people that range from an eyebrow raise to an angry ‘what the heck?’ it always bothers me because I feel like she’s giving those of us with significant, permanent disabilities a bit of a bad wrap as well without being “qualified” to do so.
For the record, I do not subscribe to the tenets of this wheelchair-scooter rivalry alone. And according to a fellow quadriplegic blogger I follow occasionally I'm even involved in a quadriplegic-paraplegic rivalry I was previously unaware of (in short, they can grasp stuff with their hands, we cant; they can fully care for themselves, we can’t; we’re lazy because most of us use power chairs, they push themselves with manual chairs; etc.). But the bottom line is that as long as the “scooter chicks” of the world want to get all DAYS OF THUNDER on me as I leave the hallowed halls of Camp Randall Stadium, my place of personal catharsis and sanctitude, then the rivalry will continue to reign supreme!
To quickly set the stage, by the time the game hit the middle of the 4th quarter I started to get pretty hot, which meant that a cold drink was the best quick fix. But with only five minutes or so left in the game the kids that sell drinks had quit running around, and it’s not worth paying the $4 for a Coke at that point anyway. Ditto for the $4 water bottles of water they sell (ridiculous, don’t even get me started). Additionally, there are no water bubblers on my seat level and I sure as hell wasn’t about to go stick my mouth under a bathroom faucet that 1000’s of other fans had used all day. So I decided to just wait it out until we got back to my van. At that time it looked like we would be pulling out a tightly fought victory in mere minutes.
Well that had to be the day that we couldn’t close it out, Fresno state tied the game late, and on to overtime we went. By the time the team won in thrilling fashion after two full overtime periods about a half hour later I was in desperate need of a cool breeze and a chilled beverage. Because there was another big line for the elevator we just decided to take the ramps down instead. As I mentioned previously, I'm at a stage in my life where it’s worth waiting in line for the elevator to reduce wear and tear on my wheelchair. But on hot days like Saturday even waiting in line for more than a couple minutes gets me agitated because of the extra body heat floating around a closed area. Kind of makes my heat issues worse. At least when you take the ramps you often get a strong cross breeze, which was a welcome thing at that moment.
Of course that decision was proven to be a loser when we got caught in the crowd one ramp level down. The breeze was still welcome but the foot by foot slow trotting got frustrating because it gets hard on my chair – it’s either a lot of clicking in and out of gear or barely rolling which I assume gets hard on the drivetrain.
One ramp turn downward and I noticed another gentleman in a wheelchair coming down behind me on the ramp level just above. We exchanged a polite head nod, not unlike how my dad salutes fellow Harley dudes when he’s on his motorcycle. Behind him I noticed a woman in her mid 30’s on a blue scooter and thought nothing else of it. But with each ramp level we went down I noticed that she kept getting closer and closer. About halfway down she was a dozen and a half feet behind me on the same level, aggressively weaving her way through the throngs of people. Now I was trying to execute the same strategy, albeit much more politely, except I was stuck behind a group of senior citizens and was much more focused on not getting hit by the seat cushions they were swinging with each step.
The next thing I knew she was pretty close behind me. Another turn to the next ramp down and she was right on my hip. Barely worth giving a second thought to at first. Then it got weird. At the time I was towards the middle of the aisle but she started forcing me to the inside toward the wall so she had enough room to pass me on the outside. I tried to stay true to my current line but we almost banged wheels so I had to turn it in slightly to avoid collision. And so this went for a little while. Ridiculous. Not sure why passing me was so imperative. Proper etiquette in that situation typically dictates that you wait your turn. Instead she turned it into some wheelchair/scooter version of NASCAR. Which incidentally I can’t decide if it would be the kind of über lame sport you’d only see at 3am on ESPN2 after World’s Strongest Man or a YouTube nation ratings blitzkrieg. I'm inclined to lean toward the latter.
Anyway, we damn near trade paint for about a hundred more feet until she makes another series of aggressive moves and shoots her way past me and through the crowd in front of us. By the time I popped out at the bottom of the ramps I saw her across the way rolling full tilt, weaving through traffic, and cutting people off.
Bigger picture what this whole scenario did was further exacerbate this unspoken rivalry I feel like I’ve always had with scooter people. And my main premise for that rivalry can best be illustrated with a question/answer that I might have seen on my high school ACT exam: wheelchair is to permanent mode of disability mobility, as scooter is to mostly temporary mode of disability mobility.
Now that is not to insinuate that all scooter users have temporary disabilities because many folks do rely on scooters for their primary mobility purposes. But what I am saying is that in the vast, vast majority of instances where I have seen people in scooters they have pretty substantial use of their legs and can even walk certain distances without their scooter (e.g. a lady in my building used her scooter and mostly effortless walking ability interchangeably). People that have significant, permanent, physical disabilities that effect their every day all day ability to walk and move around are going to be seen using a wheelchair for their mobility device because wheelchairs have custom accessories (e.g. seat cushions, backrests, individual foot rests) designed to maintain all day support and body integrity. Most scooters I’ve seen come with a standard foam seat like you see on the captain’s chair on a pontoon boat, a flat floor surface for the feet, and steering handles. Everything about it screams ‘temporary ride.’
Now I have over thirteen years worth of experience in the disability world and thus a much more sophisticated eye when it comes to spotting the intricacies of other disabilities. So I could quickly assess that this particular scooter woman appeared to be mostly able-bodied due to the fact that she had full hand function and because one of her feet was casually cocked up on the right front of her scooter (i.e. she could move her legs). But I would venture to say that if your average person with no experience with disabilities whatsoever looked at me in my wheelchair and then another person in a scooter right next to me they would probably see that we both were sitting, we both weren’t walking, and we both were riding four wheeled mobility devices and they would no doubt just surmise that we both have the “same thing going on” disability-wise.
So when I see what under a pretty objective set circumstances appears to be a mostly able-bodied person on a scooter, coming from the wheelchair section, weaving people aggressively down the ramp, rudely saying ‘excuse me’ (she wasn’t but I’ve seen plenty of people do that before), forcing me inside so she can pass me, running full tilt with lots of people around, cutting people off, etc. and catching looks from “average” people that range from an eyebrow raise to an angry ‘what the heck?’ it always bothers me because I feel like she’s giving those of us with significant, permanent disabilities a bit of a bad wrap as well without being “qualified” to do so.
For the record, I do not subscribe to the tenets of this wheelchair-scooter rivalry alone. And according to a fellow quadriplegic blogger I follow occasionally I'm even involved in a quadriplegic-paraplegic rivalry I was previously unaware of (in short, they can grasp stuff with their hands, we cant; they can fully care for themselves, we can’t; we’re lazy because most of us use power chairs, they push themselves with manual chairs; etc.). But the bottom line is that as long as the “scooter chicks” of the world want to get all DAYS OF THUNDER on me as I leave the hallowed halls of Camp Randall Stadium, my place of personal catharsis and sanctitude, then the rivalry will continue to reign supreme!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Observations from Camp Randall: UW v. Northern Illinois 9/5/09
If this blog were a late night talk show then this would be the part where I would say "And now we're introducing a new segment." This one being called "Observations from Camp Randall," wherein I briefly delve into the funny, interesting, aggravating, etc. things that I encounter as I make my way to and from my seats at the stadium on Badger football game days.
Observation #1: As I was rolling down one stretch of sidewalk on my way to the stadium before the game I passed a few college students sitting on the brick steps in front of their house. As I went by I overheard one drunken guy say to the girl next to him “Should that guy get a ticket for driving on the sidewalk?” Regardless of whether he was being cleverly inquisitive or ignorantly intoxicated, that was one of the funniest wheelchair-motorized vehicle lines I’ve ever heard. Good stuff.
Observations #2 and #3: First a little background. Since the completion of the stadium renovations a few years ago Camp Randall now has an elevator that takes patrons to all seating levels. But as nice and convenient as it is for me to have the means to avoid taking the multi-level spiral style ramps, one of the most frustrating things about every game day experience is waiting for the elevator to take me up to the 72nd row where my seats are (they’re awesome, by the way). It’s not just that there is a wait, it’s that the more people that have discovered the elevator each year, the more people that use it. And I would say that on average roughly 80% of the folks that I wait in line with are able-bodied and appear perfectly capable of walking up either a few flights of stairs or said ramps. It’s also clear to me that the stadium personnel tend to do no disability screening to assure that only the people that truly need it use it, as intended.
The other aggravating thing about it is how entitled many of these people get to using the elevator, even seeing themselves as equal to its use to mine. Thus no one ever lets people with wheelchairs or others who deserve “priority” usage go to the front of the line, as should be proper elevator etiquette. So more often than not I end up waiting for the second or third cart load to go up to my section. In many past instances, if me and a buddy are running behind, and the elevator line is too long, we’ve just taken the ramps. But starting last year I decided that my chair was too old to keep chugging up the ramps, so a little extra waiting time is worth less abuse on my wheels.
All that said, observation #2 is that while waiting in the hallway outside the room that houses the elevator (approximately 30 people in front of me) I overheard a completely able-bodied man in his 40’s chatting with another able-bodied person barely a senior citizen say: “Well we may have to wait a bit, but at least it’s better than walking up the ramps.” Ok sir a) if you’re perfectly capable of walking up the ramps then you and your crew of four shouldn’t be snaking a ride in the elevator when people with physical disabilities are also in line, and b) the next time you make such a triumphant declaration stop, think, look around, notice the gentleman in the wheelchair five feet behind you (i.e. this guy), and keep your mouth shut. For me elevator use is a necessity, not a privilege.
On the way down after the game my friend Jason and I turned the corner on the way back to the elevator just in time to see an embittered woman in her 50’s, wearing earmuff style radio headphones and holding a cane, say to the (cute) stadium courtesy staffer just in front of us: “Can you do anything about getting this elevator up here faster?!” Right, like stadium personnel have some magic ability to make elevators appear much faster. (She is no doubt one of those people that think pushing the elevator buttons multiple times makes the cart arrive faster as well.) I love able-bodied people that get annoyed when the elevator is slow. Again, if you can walk and you’re tired of waiting then take the stairs or ramp and get out of my way.
Of course, within seconds the elevator doors opened. My friend and I were the last two to get in the cart, with grumpy lady sandwiched next to us. On the ground floor Jason got out first, then it was my turn—at least it should have been but she tried to take a small step out at the same time I started backing up, then she stopped. I noticed that she was wearing open-toed leather sandals so as I started backing up I said “Watch your toes” which is something I typically say to people as a humorous warning. The vast majority of the time I do that I get a smile out of folks but when I looked up to meet her gaze she was fuming. Apparently she thought that she was supposed to get out before me—even though there was no room to do so. First she was mad at the supposedly slow elevator, then because the guy in the wheelchair supposedly blocked her exit. Maybe she was a Northern Illinois fan.
Lastly, observation #4: As we traveled up the sidewalk towards my parking spot people going the opposite direction were entering the sidewalk between concrete barriers. When you’re in my position you just have to find the openings and weave between the people. As I passed the last concrete barrier I saw a middle-aged couple ready to step out onto the sidewalk. The wife stepped in front of me first but the timing was off for the husband’s effort. Nonetheless he tried to shoot the gap and took a half step, so I quickly stopped, then he stopped, then he resigned a bit, then I just kept going. And as I passed him he looked at me with visible frustration, as if I got in his way, or he was bothered to have to give way. To the contrary, sir.
People in wheelchairs experience this kind of exchange all the time in busy public settings. It seems like able-bodied folks, especially those trying to keep pace with their group, always think that they can do a quick step in front of me even though there’s not enough time or room. I don't get it. Just wait one second and go around! Because it’s not just the mini panic of someone crashing into my chair or onto my lap, but the fact that I have to come to such an abrupt stop, then start again to regain the lost momentum. It was much worse when I used my manual chair because stopping so abruptly and using the full force of my arms to restart my intended path took their physical toll. So to the gentleman frustrated that he couldn’t shoot the gap: I had the right of way.
But hot damn do I love going to Badger games regardless! The Badgers won 28-20, by the way.
Observation #1: As I was rolling down one stretch of sidewalk on my way to the stadium before the game I passed a few college students sitting on the brick steps in front of their house. As I went by I overheard one drunken guy say to the girl next to him “Should that guy get a ticket for driving on the sidewalk?” Regardless of whether he was being cleverly inquisitive or ignorantly intoxicated, that was one of the funniest wheelchair-motorized vehicle lines I’ve ever heard. Good stuff.
Observations #2 and #3: First a little background. Since the completion of the stadium renovations a few years ago Camp Randall now has an elevator that takes patrons to all seating levels. But as nice and convenient as it is for me to have the means to avoid taking the multi-level spiral style ramps, one of the most frustrating things about every game day experience is waiting for the elevator to take me up to the 72nd row where my seats are (they’re awesome, by the way). It’s not just that there is a wait, it’s that the more people that have discovered the elevator each year, the more people that use it. And I would say that on average roughly 80% of the folks that I wait in line with are able-bodied and appear perfectly capable of walking up either a few flights of stairs or said ramps. It’s also clear to me that the stadium personnel tend to do no disability screening to assure that only the people that truly need it use it, as intended.
The other aggravating thing about it is how entitled many of these people get to using the elevator, even seeing themselves as equal to its use to mine. Thus no one ever lets people with wheelchairs or others who deserve “priority” usage go to the front of the line, as should be proper elevator etiquette. So more often than not I end up waiting for the second or third cart load to go up to my section. In many past instances, if me and a buddy are running behind, and the elevator line is too long, we’ve just taken the ramps. But starting last year I decided that my chair was too old to keep chugging up the ramps, so a little extra waiting time is worth less abuse on my wheels.
All that said, observation #2 is that while waiting in the hallway outside the room that houses the elevator (approximately 30 people in front of me) I overheard a completely able-bodied man in his 40’s chatting with another able-bodied person barely a senior citizen say: “Well we may have to wait a bit, but at least it’s better than walking up the ramps.” Ok sir a) if you’re perfectly capable of walking up the ramps then you and your crew of four shouldn’t be snaking a ride in the elevator when people with physical disabilities are also in line, and b) the next time you make such a triumphant declaration stop, think, look around, notice the gentleman in the wheelchair five feet behind you (i.e. this guy), and keep your mouth shut. For me elevator use is a necessity, not a privilege.
On the way down after the game my friend Jason and I turned the corner on the way back to the elevator just in time to see an embittered woman in her 50’s, wearing earmuff style radio headphones and holding a cane, say to the (cute) stadium courtesy staffer just in front of us: “Can you do anything about getting this elevator up here faster?!” Right, like stadium personnel have some magic ability to make elevators appear much faster. (She is no doubt one of those people that think pushing the elevator buttons multiple times makes the cart arrive faster as well.) I love able-bodied people that get annoyed when the elevator is slow. Again, if you can walk and you’re tired of waiting then take the stairs or ramp and get out of my way.
Of course, within seconds the elevator doors opened. My friend and I were the last two to get in the cart, with grumpy lady sandwiched next to us. On the ground floor Jason got out first, then it was my turn—at least it should have been but she tried to take a small step out at the same time I started backing up, then she stopped. I noticed that she was wearing open-toed leather sandals so as I started backing up I said “Watch your toes” which is something I typically say to people as a humorous warning. The vast majority of the time I do that I get a smile out of folks but when I looked up to meet her gaze she was fuming. Apparently she thought that she was supposed to get out before me—even though there was no room to do so. First she was mad at the supposedly slow elevator, then because the guy in the wheelchair supposedly blocked her exit. Maybe she was a Northern Illinois fan.
Lastly, observation #4: As we traveled up the sidewalk towards my parking spot people going the opposite direction were entering the sidewalk between concrete barriers. When you’re in my position you just have to find the openings and weave between the people. As I passed the last concrete barrier I saw a middle-aged couple ready to step out onto the sidewalk. The wife stepped in front of me first but the timing was off for the husband’s effort. Nonetheless he tried to shoot the gap and took a half step, so I quickly stopped, then he stopped, then he resigned a bit, then I just kept going. And as I passed him he looked at me with visible frustration, as if I got in his way, or he was bothered to have to give way. To the contrary, sir.
People in wheelchairs experience this kind of exchange all the time in busy public settings. It seems like able-bodied folks, especially those trying to keep pace with their group, always think that they can do a quick step in front of me even though there’s not enough time or room. I don't get it. Just wait one second and go around! Because it’s not just the mini panic of someone crashing into my chair or onto my lap, but the fact that I have to come to such an abrupt stop, then start again to regain the lost momentum. It was much worse when I used my manual chair because stopping so abruptly and using the full force of my arms to restart my intended path took their physical toll. So to the gentleman frustrated that he couldn’t shoot the gap: I had the right of way.
But hot damn do I love going to Badger games regardless! The Badgers won 28-20, by the way.
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