Apparently, I am Accessibility Bitch.
We decided on the spur of the moment to go see the Seldom Scene at the Historic Boulder Theater last night. I’ve never been there, so I rolled into the box office when it opened yesterday afternoon, and said, “If I buy a ticket, will I be able to get to my seat?” (Obviously, the word “Historic” should have clued me into the Real Answer.)
“Oh, yes!” the Ticket Seller said enthusiastically, “Would you like General Admission or Reserved Seating? Reserved Seating is the first 11 rows.”
“Reserved Seating sounds good – do you have two seats on an aisle?”
Sadly, they didn’t, so I bought two GA tickets. Comes concert time, and it turns out that instead of a sloped floor, approximately every four rows is 2 steps down from the previous one. I go to the bar and ask the bartender how to get to the lower seats. “Here,” she says, “I’ll move the trash can.” “I’m sorry, trash can?” It turns out that I’m supposed sit next to the bar (and the trash can) at the top.
So why did the TS try to sell me a reserved seat, at least 8 steps down? What was his theory?
Meanwhile, my beloved is getting more and more embarrassed, as if I were complaining about my food at a restaurant.
I try to shake it off and look forward to the concert. To pass the time, I tell my beloved about the arrangements for our upcoming trip to a friend’s wedding in a very small town in northern California. “I called the hotel [friend] suggested,” I say, “but their rooms aren’t accessible…”
And my beloved ROLLED HIS EYES, as if to say, There She Goes Again.
[For the search engines of the world: the Historic Boulder Theater is not wheelchair accessible, even if they tell you it is. They think “we’re willing to carry you down steps” == “wheelchair accessible”.]