Handicap parking spaces used to tick me off.
Most of you out there know what I’m talking about. You’re making a trip to Harris Teeter to pick up some groceries, or maybe heading out to Southpoint with your significant other to catch a movie and enjoy a decent meal, and you can’t find a space. Not just nearby, but even in the Siberia section of the parking lot. So you troll around for 15 minutes, stalk some poor soul who’s finally leaving, park your car and grumble as you pass a half-dozen empty handicap spaces as you walk toward the building.
I didn’t blame the folks who actually used those spaces of course, but couldn’t help but wonder why the government required so many of them when — as far back as I could remember — I could never recall more than one or two being used at any given time. So imagine my new found humility when I noticed all the spaces were taken far more often than I thought right when I needed one myself.
Back at the beginning of January, while playing basketball at Carmichael with some friends, a mid-air collision knocked me slightly off balance and sent me bouncing off my left foot in a way nature clearly didn’t intend. Fortunately the actual injury wasn’t nearly as gruesome as the sound, but the impact snapped my fibula in two and confined me to crutches for the rest of the month. I quickly came to realize the practical importance of the accessibility issues that all too often get discussed only in theoretical terms.
Let’s state the obvious up front: Not being able to use both your legs is a real PITA (not to be confused with PETA, which is itself a PITA, but that’s a topic for another column). Even the most basic activities become absurdly difficult, with something like a routine shower feeling like an audition for Karate Kid IV. And that’s not even getting into the exhaustion of hauling yourself around campus by your arms.
But if you ever have the misfortune of breaking something or losing a limb entirely, a college campus is a good place to be. Nowhere in all of Wake County can you find disability services and accommodations as extensive as right here at N.C. State. The University houses a Disability Services Office in the Student Health Building that specializes in helping students acclimate to their situation; they offer everything from trying to arrange appropriate seating in class to the mundane task of figuring out how you’ll evacuate a building in case of a fire. I actually felt bad when I registered with them because I didn’t really need a good chunk of their services.
The physical improvements to buildings are comprehensive too. Navigating stairs can be treacherous on crutches, and impossible in a wheelchair, so ramp access is vital. The little automatic door-opener things remove the hassle of trying to use your body as a doorstop to get into a building. And even the University’s satellite design studio downtown includes a wall-mounted chair so folks can get to the second floor since there’s no elevator. Given the sheer size of our campus, the comprehensiveness of it all is laudable.
But that’s not to say there’s no room for improvement. The Wolfline buses, even with their access platforms, are still a time-consuming hassle. I’m not sure if there’s much more the University can do to improve them but after the first week I just gave up and started climbing the stairs on crutches instead.
And picture the irony of trying to get a handicap parking permit, only to discover the Transporation Building where they’re issued is one of the few you’ll encounter without a door-opener button and where you’ll then have to navigate past another non-automatic door into an interior office.
The two student centers also have a few issues. The access ramp in Talley’s case seems a little steep, and the inside door-opener frequently doesn’t work. For Witherspoon, there’s a button to get in — just not at the primary building entrance near the street, where both the Wolfline stop and handicap parking spaces are located.
Overall, the University should be commended for the job it has done to accommodate people with physical impairments. Although it doesn’t replace walking, the improvements have certainly made my life a little easier and I suspect the lives of other students as well. Now it needs to build on that world-class record by fixing the few holes that remain.
Send your comments to Greg at [email protected]