Stuck in the sliding glass doors.
Stuck in the sliding glass doors.
Well, crap.
A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to maneuver the wheelchair through the now closed doors of Lynn Library on the Washington Street Campus. Embarrassment, frustration and an edge of humor sifted through my gut as I shoved the doors away from me with one arm and attempted to wheel myself through with the other – all the while keeping my legs limp as if I could not use them. Apparently the sensor was too high up and no longer recognized my presence.
Great.
On the other side of the door I faced a new obstacle: wheeling myself down the ramp slowly enough to maintain control of my chair...
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Accessible? Not if you need to pee
A view of the campus from a wheelchair
Published: Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Updated: Thursday, January 14, 2010
 "Photo: Brittani Wray")
Brittani Wray
Madelyn Bankhead tests AC's wheelchair accessibility at various buildings on the Washington Street Campus
 "Photo: Brittani Wray")
Brittani Wray
 "Photo: Brittani Wray")
Brittani Wray
Well, crap.
A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to maneuver the wheelchair through the now closed doors of Lynn Library on the Washington Street Campus. Embarrassment, frustration and an edge of humor sifted through my gut as I shoved the doors away from me with one arm and attempted to wheel myself through with the other – all the while keeping my legs limp as if I could not use them. Apparently the sensor was too high up and no longer recognized my presence.
Great.
On the other side of the door I faced a new obstacle: wheeling myself down the ramp slowly enough to maintain control of my chair.
After narrowly managing that task, my wheel hit a rut. Nearly tumbling over, I leaned fiercely in the other direction to keep myself upright.
I laughed to myself.
This is ridiculous, I thought. I never realized just how tough it was to maneuver the campus in a chair.
As I passed by a student, I landed in my first awkward encounter. He looked up, saw me and quickly looked at the ground as he passed by.
What? Am I invisible?
Rolling around campus, I managed to end up unwittingly in a plethora of unique problems. Problems like being unable to open doors that aren’t automatic, almost getting hit by a car while crossing the street in the crosswalk because I’m too short to be seen by drivers and getting stuck in what are supposed to be handicap-accessible bathroom stalls.
Parcells Hall and the Byrd Business Building were particularly hard to maneuver. The big heavy doors became a roadblock between me and the building I needed to get to. It was tricky, of course, but I managed to shove the doors open with enough force to give myself just enough time to quickly wheel through.
The fourth floor bathroom of the Byrd Business Building became a mousetrap once I was inside. I wheeled my way to the handicap stall and attempted to wheel in – to no avail. My chair, it seems, was too large to fit in the stall. So much for its proclaimed “accessibility.”
The library posed a particularly interesting issue whenever I was making my trek to the restroom. Apparently there are handicap-accessible restrooms only on the fourth floor. That, to me, is very twisted irony. If I were, in fact, in a wheelchair on the first floor and had to pee ... well, let’s just say I’d have quite the mess to clean up.
As I made the long trek from the library to Warren Hall, I realized just how much strength it takes to get around campus. My arms burned like I had just been in an Iron Man competition.
When I finally made it to the building, to my triceps’ dismay, the ramp was blocked off by construction.
So much for that route.
Off I went around the campus to the other side of the building. There I managed to wheel my way slowly up the fairly steep ramp and through the doors that a woman was holding open for me.
“Hello,” she said awkwardly.
Do I look like an alien or something?
I used the elevator to go to the second floor. As I wheeled my way down the halls, a nice man asked if I needed anything. “Just looking for a restroom,” I told him. “Oh, well, there’s one right there,” he said, glad to be of help. I paused a minute to look up at his six-foot high face and smiled sullenly. “No,” I said. “One a wheelchair can get in.”
Then I rolled myself down the hall back to the elevator.
Once downstairs, the restroom was tricky. Because it’s an older building, space was excruciatingly limited. Despite the bathroom being handicap-“accessible,” there was not an automatic door. The door was heavy and had to be pulled out, so I couldn’t ram it with my chair to get it to open.
The halls were empty, so no help presented itself. It was just me and the door, a face-off that I was determined to win.
I pulled with one arm and tried to wheel with the other. But the floor was slippery, so my wheels couldn’t get traction. So much for that idea.
Then I tried to pull the door open in one swift motion and use my arms to grab the door frame and pull myself through – no such luck. The door just slammed into my wheelchair. I finally tried another angle. I managed to just barely get the heavy wooden door open wide enough to get me in, and due to my tunnel-vision focus of what was in front of me, said door swung hard into my wheel – the wheel my hand just so happened to be gripping.
I yelped and let a few select expletives slip.
Twisting awkwardly, I pushed the door open with my good arm and finally, miraculously, wheeled my way through.
Making my way back around campus, it was obvious I was struggling. My arms burned, and I was frustrated. A very sweet-faced young woman walked by me, smiled a huge smile and said, “Wow, your eyes are gorgeous!”
I smiled back and thanked her, all the while wondering if the compliment was really due to my eyes or the chair I was in.
Either way, it brightened my mood significantly and made the journey back across campus easier.
Despite Amarillo College’s attempts at making the campus accessible, those without disabilities can never truly know how difficult seemingly simple tasks can be from a wheelchair. Tasks like going through a sliding glass door, entering an elevator or, worst of all, going to the restroom.
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