From where I sit, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that people regularly go to concerts and sporting events with other people; sometimes groups of other people. There is the whole date night exception, of course, but many of my experiences with professional hockey, basketball and football games have been attending with family and friends in tow. Such is the case in point a couple of months ago when my children wanted to attend a Florida Panthers hockey game at the BB & T Center (Sunrise, FL) over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend with me.
I was beyond excited to let loose and revel in one of our regular, BEFORE-mom-got-sick favorite events. It was time. I was ready to give it a try. We had been fortunate to be able to provide season tickets for our family to use for 'family nights out' when the kids were young. It was always great fun and today we have lots of memories of wearing our Panthers sweaters and screaming for our guys to score!
The whole Panthers vs. Rangers game outing was my daughter's idea, which made me love it all the more. She ordered tickets for the 6 of us. We didn't give it another thought until it was time to pick up the tickets. The day before the game, she went online to pay for them and saw that we weren't sitting together. We were separated by 4 rows. She sent an inquiry. She was then informed by email that only one "companion" could accompany "the accessible," which would now, of course, be me. "The accessible." "An accessible." (It was worded both ways depending on which paragraph you read) So this is how I am referred to by lawyers who draw up these pieces of garbage rules for places like the BB & T Center. We were hurt, shocked and angry. She cried. This is a side of life we weren't familiar with.
Now, I've been called lots of different things in my life. Some I am not too fond of. But some of the ones I particularly like are: mom, mamma, mommy, mem, mummy, wife, sister, daughter, Doodis, Annie, Nanny, aunt, niece, granddaughter, sweetheart, honey, and girlfriend. I like them because they mean something to me. They say something about the level of affection I share with another human being or reveal my place in our family. They humanize me. I am part of us; my little family, yes, but also the greater human family.
These names also leave plenty of room for you to have to interpret me, based on your experience of who I am, and not how I get from place to place. What is an "accessible" anyway? It sounds so very de-humanizing to me. "Accessibles" could be robots made of wire, metal and lights. (Think R2D2!) Or some kind of non-humans that have invaded earth and can now destroy us simply because we are "accessible" to them! Real human beings are soft, strong, vulnerable, intricate and have intrinsic, God-given value. You can't just single-out a minority group and call us something as unflattering as "accessibles" and get away with it! I won't allow it!
Furthermore, if you take your unflattering nickname for me and use it as a reason to discriminate against me, well, I dislike it even more. Now I am just plain mad. You see, you may find this hard to believe, but I EXPECTED to sit with my whole family that night at the hockey game. I EXPECTED the same privileges I had BEFORE. (That's a big word in my vocabulary) BEFORE; when I could walk into the BB & T Center, I never gave a thought as to whether my kids would sit with me at the Panther's game. Why
would I? BEFORE, I had the same freedom to move about the country as most everyone else. And
several emails later, when it became clear that whatever I had EXPECTED, would not come to
fruition, I started thinking about this blog and how I needed to start my advocacy campaign. So, here I am. And this incident will be used as the catalyst to begin talking with the powers that be at the BB & T Center and the Florida Panthers organization, so I can show them the error of their ways! Policies need to change. Dialogue needs to begin. People need to get 'it.'
Today, if I want to attend a hockey game, I'd have to sit with whoever I choose to be my "companion" for the evening and the rest of my family would sit 4 rows or more away from us. Acceptable
accessibility? Hardly.
After reading this post I would like to ask Ann "How do you really feel?" I share your aggravation and I appreciate so much your willingness to stand up for the entire (I almost said accessible community) 'wheeled' community. I really enjoyed this article!! I wish I could right so that my emotions just jumped off the page, it is very well done.
ReplyDeleteI get really aggravated also when there are no handicap spots available and then you see the perfectly healthy looking twenty somethings who just parked in the last space available and walk by you with a smirk on their face acting as if they just got away with something. Trust me - they didn't!! Unfortunately it is another sign of the "Me, Me, Me" generation and their mistaken belief that all of the rest of us exist to serve them! Okay, that's enough - one mad writer on this page is enough!! Thank you for the great article, I really appreciate your writing ability and your heart, both of which you are willing to share with us!!
First off, Ann thank you for your wonderful writings. The wonderful thing about blogs like yours lie in how, after a long day, I can be alone in my rented room feeling mistreated and misunderstood and then, seeing my own emotions expressed in your posts suddenly feel completely "heard."
ReplyDeleteSecondly, Mr. Arnold - I simply felt compelled to make a comment about your response. Your compliments were lovely, and I can also understand your frustrations with what you believe to be abuse of handicapped spots. I'm sure your perceptions are correct in some, if not a majority, of cases; but I think you should know that sometimes such perceptions can be painfully misleading.
I am a 20-something who has struggled with debilitating Periodic Paralysis since I was 15 (its genetic - and there were earlier problems, but the collapse of my "BEFORE" came as a young teen). To the outsider's eye, I can look 'fine' - young and seemingly healthy. But the reality is that one the inside I struggle with sudden attacks of extreme weakness to full paralysis multiple times a day.
On a good day, I can borrow a car to drive to the library. When the parking lot is full, I often need to use my handicap tag to park closer to the entrance. I may be able to walk to the doors with little trouble - but within the hour, I am more than likely to have had excessive fluid loss into my ostomy (happens 7-20 times a day), been 'triggered' by exposure to a chemical cleaner/perfume/etc., or just had a regular unexplained drastic drop in my blood potassium levels - all of which will inevitably mean I'm going to have to crawl back to my car, and if it too far away I will pass out in the attempt. I have to get back to the car so I can take whatever electrolyte crystals I need, adjust my fluids, and then lie down safely while I go through the shaking, hot flashes, and vertigo that accompany their absorption.
I am fortunate not to be in a wheelchair fulltime yet, but that does not mean that I don't still depend on some accommodations in order to get through this life in one piece. I have been screamed at, spit at, cursed out, followed, and harassed - all by understandably frustrated individuals who share the misconception that all true disabilities are always visible from the outside. I hope that maybe by sharing my story with you, you might be able to consider all of the people like me before jumping to conclusions about a stranger. There are more of us than one might think.
I also promise that not all 20-somethings are all "Me, Me, Me." Many of us are just trying to survive, and hopefully manage to contribute something to the world along the way.
Thanks for listening,
Kendra