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Friday, July 13, 2018

Ticket Seller's Ignorance

I love baseball in large part because the game saved my sanity as a morbidly ill child. I seen much of my youth on the pediatric neurological ward at Columbia's renown Babies Hospital. Back then, children were not allowed act like kids--our job was to get well. Rigid rules abounded. Rules my parents broke on a regular basis. One of those rules was permission to use a small electronic radio. I listened to the New York Mets--my favorite team then and now. In my opinion, baseball radio broadcasts are the best way to enjoy a game. A close second is to attend a baseball game. This is exactly what I did yesterday. I went to see the Colorado Rockies play in the afternoon. I ordered my tickets online and was directed to the will call window to pick them up. This routine interaction did not go well.

Me: "Last name Peace".

Agent: "Who bought the tickets for you?"

Me: "I did".

Agent: "You can do that?"

Me: "Yes, I bought the tickets. Last name Peace".

Agent: "Where is your caretaker?"

Me: "Last name Peace. One ticket".

Agent: "How did you get here?"

Me: "Last name Peace".

Agent: "Who brought you here?"

Me: "Last name Peace. Please, I want my ticket". 

Agent: "You don't have to be rude. I am trying to help you".

Me: "Last name Peace". 

I then slide my driver's license in the slot along with credit card I used. The ticket is printed out.

Agent: "Your ticket is not handicapped!" 

Me: "I know. May I please have my ticket".

Agent: "You are supposed to be in handicapped parking. You are not allowed to sit anywhere else".

Me: "I bought a $9 general admission ticket. I can sit anywhere I want".

Agent: "Well, can I get someone to help you. We have wheelchairs available. We have people to push you where you want to go". 

Me: "May I please have my ticket".  

Agent: "Are you sure you are alone? You really need a caretaker". 

Me: "May I please have my ticket". 

Agent: "How will you get home after the game?"

Me: "May I please have my ticket".

Agent: "You should not be out by yourself".

Obviously perplexed I am not answering his questions at long last I get my ticket. There is no "enjoy the game" statement--just a stoney silence and annoyed look. Such exchanges are not the norm; however, they do occur on a regular basis. One variable is constant: such exchanges always take place when I am alone. As I often joke with friends, we cripples only travel alone or in pairs. We cannot travel in more than pairs because buses and trains routinely only have two places for us to sit. When alone, we are free game. Nothing about our lives is private. Bipeds think they are wildly creative about solving our problems that do not exist and freely offer help that is not needed. Bipeds are also curious beings. No question is too intrusive and we cripples must at all times be happy to answer any and all questions like "Where is your caretaker". On my train ride home after the game I wondered about the ticket agent. What was he taught about disability? What did he absorb growing up? It is evident to me that what people absorb and are taught about disability remains wildly inaccurate. The over riding lesson learned nearly 30 years post ADA is unchanged: crippled lives are less valuable. We are the worst case scenario for how life can go wrong. Access is provided as an act of charity, not equal rights. This is exactly why disability rights are a stealth civil rights movement. What could I have done yesterday to educate the ticket agent? Nothing. And the ticket agent while woefully ignorant is not unusual. Ignorance is the norm when it comes to disability. I am subjected to ignorance on a daily basis. Worse, in the current political and social meleiu disability rights are under assault by Trump and the GOP. Medicaid is being cut and access to health care, housing, mass transit, and employment are exceedingly difficult. Disability rights and more generally the rights of any person who is somehow different is perceived to be an affront. I am no snow flake. I am one of millions of people in this nation living and thriving with a disability. Some days I find this defeating but today I am energized. Good people still exist--even some bipeds get it and are allies of disability rights. People like Wade Blank who along with 19 disabled people, the Gang of 19, here in Denver started a successful nationwide movement to make the mass transit system accessible. Without that effort 40 years ago, I would not have been able to take the train to a baseball game and be confronted with impressive ignorance.

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