I limited myself to wheelchair-accessible routes for an entire day

Thursday mornings are my busiest. For instance, I have to go from the depths of Posvar Hall to the third floor of the Cathedral of Learning within a span of ten minutes, and even on foot I barely make it in time.

So, what if I had a disability? What if I wasn’t able to trek up and down multiple flights of stairs between classes? Ten minutes is just enough time for an able-bodied person to get from the fifth floor of Posvar Hall to the third floor of the Cathedral of Learning.

How would my day be affected if I didn’t possess the ability to walk? I decided to find out.

Because using an actual wheelchair for this experiment would have been a distasteful move to say the least, I used my imagination. When confronted by stairs of any kind, I had to find another path.

9:30am

My alarm goes off. Like most college students, I press the snooze button. Not very smart, considering that I have half an hour before my first class. It goes off again at 9:38. Not sure why it goes off at such a specific time, but I listen to its brutal command and get out of bed. Even in my delirious state, I can imagine how different it would be if I had to hoist myself into a wheelchair every morning.

Time check: 9:53am

I’m finally ready. I live on the eighth floor of Tower B, so I always take the stairs, but I can’t today. I wait a few minutes for the only elevator that comes to my floor, and I ride it down to the lobby.

Time check: 9:57am

I want to run to class, but to continue with my experiment, I restrict myself to walking. I walk through the lobby of Towers and through the sky bridge to Posvar Hall. I don’t have much time before class, so I head right to the escalator. But you can’t use an escalator if you’re restricted to a wheelchair. So I have to find an elevator. I find one close by, and ride it to the fifth floor. I walk down the hall and into my classroom.

Time check: 10:03am

Late. My professor’s face says it all. I sit through the remainder of the fifty-minute lecture, and when we’re dismissed, I immediately head for the door.

Time check: 10:50am

I have ten minutes to get to my next lecture. I usually head to the Posvar Hall stairwell and rush down the five flights, but once again, I have to use the elevator. It takes about a minute to get to the fifth floor, and I make two stops on the way down to let three more people on. Once I’m on the ground floor, I walk out the door and head towards the Cathedral.

Time check: 10:57am

I get to the Cathedral. Automatic doors. Nice touch. Even though automatic doors are becoming commonplace to make entrance more accessible, there are still a lot of doors that are hard to open when you’re restricted to a wheelchair. How feasible is it? I maneuver through the ground floor until I get to the elevators.

Time check: 10:59am

The Cathedral of Learning has the most obnoxious elevators. They function on a fairly new operating system that seems pretty simple, but people still somehow struggle to use them properly. The hallway is flooded with people, but I eventually board my elevator. Between the ground floor and the third floor, eight people exit.

I think it’s safe to assume that these people aren’t on the elevator as part of an experiment and they are all certainly able-bodied, so it concerns me that they felt unable to walk up two or three flights of stairs.

Time check: 11:02am

Late again. Now, I’m never late. Punctuality is one of my only talents. So during this lecture, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I was late. Twice.

Maybe I’m being overdramatic. Maybe being late isn’t such a big deal. But what about all the minutes that could have been spared if I had used my legs to their full potential. In a day, those minutes add up. But how about in a week? A year? How about in a lifetime? This day is not merely a testament to the fact that we need more wheelchair-accessible routes. This day marks the last time I will take my legs for granted.

I decide to continue my experiment for the remainder of the day. It’s a beautiful day. The first truly beautiful day of spring. But I can’t walk to the top of Flagstaff Hill or run on the trails surrounding Panther Hollow Lake. My day is limited by the restrictions of the experiment. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to return to walking up hills and running on trails. I’ll be able to climb up stairs freely, and I won’t be late to class.

For the rest of my life, I won’t have to struggle when I’m getting out of bed, when I’m taking a shower, or when I’m opening a door. The world does not adequately cater to those with physical limitations. And this day is nothing compared to the lives of others who cannot use their bodies to their full potential.