As I sat waiting for the urologist to photograph my bladder, I combed through satellite images of Riddick Hall. What defines a single parking “lot”? Do the neighboring parallel parking spots count toward the “lot” total? What about spaces sectioned off for construction? I played with the count several times using my best judgment and the few resources I could find. The conclusion was always the same — there are more than 50 parking spots behind Riddick.
One year ago, I wasn’t researching parking or looking at pictures of my urinary system. I was researching the “best pointe shoes for flexible ankles” and scrapbooking photos I had taken with my family in Europe a month prior. On Nov. 25, 2022, while rehearsing for “The Nutcracker,” my right ankle failed while landing a jump. First, I popped it back into place so it would cease dangling like a dead fish, and then I crawled to the camera to stop recording.
I showed the emergency room doctor my video. He gave me a walking boot and an application for a three-month DMV-issued Americans with Disabilities Act placard. Once I could drive, obtaining reasonable parking accommodations on campus started out simple; I sent in a picture of the placard and was given the option to pay for an NC State ADA permit.
There are 342 days between Nov. 25, 2022 and the date of this writing. I could not drive for 141 of the 342 days. I had three surgeries: eustachian dilation of the left ear, lateral release of the left knee and arthroscopy with microfracture of the right ankle. I ruptured my eardrum, had kidney stones, lice and COVID-19 twice.
My three-month permit turned into six, nine, a whole year. My ADA placard expired after October with only twenty-two days of classes plus five for exams remaining in the semester, but I had no reasonable parking plan in place. On the transportation website, I read, “If you do not have a DMV-issued disability placard and need more than two weeks of close-proximity parking on campus or need long-term modifications made, please reach out via email.”
I spend all of my time on campus in a lab in Riddick Hall, so I sent an email asking for nearby parking, describing the above in detail, including MRIs, X-rays, after-visit summaries and the most damning frame from my injury video.
The response was copied and pasted directly from the same webpage that instructed me to “reach out via email.” After some back and forth, I was told my doctor could fill out a form describing why I needed accommodations and the parking department would determine what those accommodations should be. I called my doctor who laughed and gave me three more months on my ADA placard. Why would a doctor fill out a form that may or may not help their patient when they could print and sign something guaranteed to solve the problem?
I received that permit in the mail on Halloween and immediately emailed an image to the transportation department a little after lunch. On Nov. 1, I came to work, parked in the ADA spot, worked and went home with a $60 ticket on my car for not having a valid campus parking permit. I am ashamed of my appeal, but I received a discounted fee of $15 and a note, “The language was inappropriate.”
I responded with a hint of an apology followed by how frustrating, unnecessary and honestly humiliating this whole process is. The emails were rambling but boiled down to the simple fact that NC State does not care about accommodating students who need it. I received no response other than a notification that the fee had been removed.
There are two ADA spaces behind Riddick. According to ADA guidelines, for “lots” with 51-75 spaces, three must be ADA-compliant. I was moments away from subpoenaing email records and filing a complaint through the ADA website before the ticket was dropped. Maybe I’m selfish because now that sounds like too much work. Maybe that’s the way the system is designed: you spin your wheels and kick up dust advocating for yourself only to be too tired to make any real change.
I would like to apologize to anyone on the payroll at NC State Transportation who had the misfortune of communicating with me regarding this issue. I would like to think that if we met under different circumstances, you wouldn’t recognize me as the girl from the emails. Regardless, it was not right for me to behave the way I did. It is not anyone’s job to make sure I get what I want.
It is your job, however, to ensure everyone is treated fairly according to their individual needs. It is your duty to collect the facts and make decisions with empathy that are supported by the system’s rules, rather than use the system’s rules to avoid compassion.