A chair's-eye view
Writer finds local terrain filled with obstructions
Published in The Daytona Beach News-Journal on November 28, 1999 as a sidebar to an investigative report on compliance 10 years after federal adoption of the Americans With Disabilities Act
Disability advocates say theirs is the only minority in which anyone can become a member overnight.
I decided to experience life without the use of my legs by traveling around the Daytona Beach area for an afternoon in a manual wheelchair.
I began my journey at Scooter World, a Holly Hill supplier of scooters, motorized and manual wheelchairs and other products for the disabled.
My troubles began as soon as I left the store.
A glass door at a nearby gas station/ convenience store slammed repeatedly against the side of my chair as I tried numerous times to push myself over the raised threshold to get inside.
Once inside, I was stopped a few feet from the door from passing through narrow aisles clogged with promotional displays and product racks.
No one offered to push them out of the way, and I made my way out of the store.
Then it was time to ride the bus.
When the Votran bus stopped, the eyes of all passengers were on me as I waited for the driver to lower the mechanical lift ramp to the ground. My chair wobbled and shook as I made repeated efforts to pull myself backward onto the lift ramp over cracked, uneven asphalt.
Other passengers waited and watched as the driver got on his hands and knees to secure straps to all four corners of the chair.
I got off the bus at the downtown transfer station and decided to tour the Volusia County Justice Center, between U.S. 1 and Palmetto Avenue.
A man standing outside smoking opened a heavy glass door for me.
In the small cafeteria, I had to make two trips to my table one with my sandwich, and the other with my drink. Afterward, I had to hold the empty cup between my legs and balance my empty plate on my lap while wheeling to the wastebasket.
I entered the handicapped restroom stall front first and immediately discovered how much arm strength is required for handicapped people to lift themselves out of their chairs and turn 180 degrees just to take care of their normal lavatory needs.
Throughout the day, I discovered something I didn't know about pavement.
Most of it is uneven especially streets, sidewalks and parking lots I thought would be easy to steer a wheelchair over. Unless the pavement is perfectly smooth, all four wheels may not grip the surface at the same time. So while three wheels may be turning, one may be suspended in the air, and you must work twice as hard to crank the wheel that is on the ground.
Cracks between uneven sidewalk slabs slow you down. When a driveway cuts through a sidewalk, the change in the slope can easily make you lose control, turn you 90 degrees, and send you careering into a busy street.
Curb cuts at street corner sidewalks, although designed for wheelchair access, are often insurmountable because of their mounded shape.
Other things I noticed during my six- hour journey:
Wheelchairs and slippery, wet pavement don't mix. When it's pouring rain, it can be extremely lonely sitting in a wheelchair under an overhang in front of the downtown Post Office, with no car to dash to, and no way to get to a bus stop without getting drenched.
When I made eye contact with strangers, I received a lot of sad, sympathetic smiles.
Chocolate milk at the Publix Supermarket in the Halifax Shopping Center is located in the far rear corner of the store.
Several aisles in the Radio Shack and Dollar General stores in the same plaza are impassable because of floor displays.
The 7-Eleven store at Flomich Avenue and Nova Road has wide, easily maneuverable aisles, and no out-of-reach shelves.
Store clerks may become extremely friendly and say things like, "You're VERY welcome!" and "Have a GREAT day!"
Most impressive, however, was the number of people who went out of their way to help me out of jams. Whether they held doors open, nudged me over curbs or tilted my chair back to help me over a step, strangers came out of nowhere when they saw me struggle.
"I know how it's like," one helper confided. "I was on crutches for a year. And do you know what? Nobody gives a whit."
I didn't find that to be true.
But I couldn't help but wonder what happens to people in wheelchairs when no one is around to help.
Helpful neighbors are great, I discovered, but the ability to get places without relying on the kindness of others would be better.
Copyright (c) 1999 Daytona Beach News-Journal
I decided to experience life without the use of my legs by traveling around the Daytona Beach area for an afternoon in a manual wheelchair.
I began my journey at Scooter World, a Holly Hill supplier of scooters, motorized and manual wheelchairs and other products for the disabled.
My troubles began as soon as I left the store.
A glass door at a nearby gas station/ convenience store slammed repeatedly against the side of my chair as I tried numerous times to push myself over the raised threshold to get inside.
Once inside, I was stopped a few feet from the door from passing through narrow aisles clogged with promotional displays and product racks.
No one offered to push them out of the way, and I made my way out of the store.
Then it was time to ride the bus.
When the Votran bus stopped, the eyes of all passengers were on me as I waited for the driver to lower the mechanical lift ramp to the ground. My chair wobbled and shook as I made repeated efforts to pull myself backward onto the lift ramp over cracked, uneven asphalt.
Other passengers waited and watched as the driver got on his hands and knees to secure straps to all four corners of the chair.
I got off the bus at the downtown transfer station and decided to tour the Volusia County Justice Center, between U.S. 1 and Palmetto Avenue.
A man standing outside smoking opened a heavy glass door for me.
In the small cafeteria, I had to make two trips to my table one with my sandwich, and the other with my drink. Afterward, I had to hold the empty cup between my legs and balance my empty plate on my lap while wheeling to the wastebasket.
I entered the handicapped restroom stall front first and immediately discovered how much arm strength is required for handicapped people to lift themselves out of their chairs and turn 180 degrees just to take care of their normal lavatory needs.
Throughout the day, I discovered something I didn't know about pavement.
Most of it is uneven especially streets, sidewalks and parking lots I thought would be easy to steer a wheelchair over. Unless the pavement is perfectly smooth, all four wheels may not grip the surface at the same time. So while three wheels may be turning, one may be suspended in the air, and you must work twice as hard to crank the wheel that is on the ground.
Cracks between uneven sidewalk slabs slow you down. When a driveway cuts through a sidewalk, the change in the slope can easily make you lose control, turn you 90 degrees, and send you careering into a busy street.
Curb cuts at street corner sidewalks, although designed for wheelchair access, are often insurmountable because of their mounded shape.
Other things I noticed during my six- hour journey:
Wheelchairs and slippery, wet pavement don't mix. When it's pouring rain, it can be extremely lonely sitting in a wheelchair under an overhang in front of the downtown Post Office, with no car to dash to, and no way to get to a bus stop without getting drenched.
When I made eye contact with strangers, I received a lot of sad, sympathetic smiles.
Chocolate milk at the Publix Supermarket in the Halifax Shopping Center is located in the far rear corner of the store.
Several aisles in the Radio Shack and Dollar General stores in the same plaza are impassable because of floor displays.
The 7-Eleven store at Flomich Avenue and Nova Road has wide, easily maneuverable aisles, and no out-of-reach shelves.
Store clerks may become extremely friendly and say things like, "You're VERY welcome!" and "Have a GREAT day!"
Most impressive, however, was the number of people who went out of their way to help me out of jams. Whether they held doors open, nudged me over curbs or tilted my chair back to help me over a step, strangers came out of nowhere when they saw me struggle.
"I know how it's like," one helper confided. "I was on crutches for a year. And do you know what? Nobody gives a whit."
I didn't find that to be true.
But I couldn't help but wonder what happens to people in wheelchairs when no one is around to help.
Helpful neighbors are great, I discovered, but the ability to get places without relying on the kindness of others would be better.
Copyright (c) 1999 Daytona Beach News-Journal