an adventure in %&@$# accessibility.
If you like a story with data receipts, you've come to the right place.
It’s story time today! But first, a quote whose sentiments I echo with my entire heart:
So thank you for being here. Time for a story.
Last February, I took my soccer-loving 10-year-old to a major league soccer game in Charlotte, NC, and it set us on one hell of an adventure in accessibility. We couldn’t believe it was real and, that night, I promised him I would write about it.
It took me almost a year but consider that promise kept, little buddy.
Last Christmas, I went online to buy Charlotte FC tickets from their website. Unfortunately, they didn’t have accessible tickets available so I scoured their website for someone to contact.
I spoke with someone named Logan from the ticking office who told me that I could purchase any ol’ seats for us and that we could swap them out for other tickets the day of the event. I bought the random tickets and planned to arrive about 15 minutes early to ensure we had time to swap out tickets.
Although it seemed unusual to have to take this extra step, it was consistent with Charlotte FC’s stadium accessibility website (which was difficult to find):
You already know that if I’m writing about this, it wasn’t that simple.
Gameday: Attempt #1
We stood in line at the ticket counter. The dudes ahead of us got their tickets quickly so I hoped this would be easy. Optimism meter: 9
I had to explain my request twice, but she did not swap out tickets. Instead, she told us to head to section 126 to be seated. Despite the unmarked ramps and elevators, we found our way but not before my son asked why we had to do these extra steps to get our seats. “No one else has to do that; why do we need to do their job?” An excellent question indeed. Optimism meter: 8
The usher in section 126 had no earthly idea what to do with us. It was as if he had never been asked to be seated by a wheelchair user. I asked him what I should do. He responded, “What do you expect me to do? Can you please move?” We headed back to the ticket counter. Optimism meter: 2 with tears in my eyes.
I explained our situation to Ticket Lady #2 at the upstairs ticket counter. I think she took pity on us when my emotions were on display as I quoted the man “CAN YOU PLEASE MOVE?” She gave us box seat tickets and directed us to a special set of elevators. The usher told us to go left, which was wrong. No biggie, but by this time, my little buddy’s legs were getting tired. One thing they don’t tell you about parenting from a wheelchair is that you must check in with little legs because mom’s legs don’t get as tired. Optimism meter: 9 with a pep in our step again.
We finally arrived to section 338. Dear reader, the section required STAIRS to access. Ticket Lady #2 didn’t actually double check to make sure our box seats were in an accessible section. My son, on his special 1:1 time with mom, said to me, “I hate this place.” The box seat usher was mortified but had no idea what to do to help us. Optimism meter: 0.
And then it happens: I saw a woman in an actual wheelchair approaching me. I looked at my son and we both knew what would happen next. With as much chill as I could muster: “where the hell in this stadium are you sitting already and what do I need to do get there??” I also pointed out that we just needed one seat, as I came with my own. Obviously. She immediately offered to make room for us in her section and we began to follow her. We sat there in the (very flat and accessible) section 249, feeling a bit like we were intruding on their space. But we had a place to watch the game which had already begun at this point. My little buddy and I were ready to have a good time.
At that point, it was a perfect day! He stayed up until nearly midnight and was as happy as a little boy could get. I didn’t know anything soccer, which he found amusing. My son answered all my goofy mom questions like: why do goalies wear different outfits? Isn’t it cool that those people speaking Spanish cheer in the same language as the English speakers? At one point, I cheered for the wrong team and he laughed at me but I was so excited that the team got such a sweet, sweet goal. This was a professional game with all the bells and whistles: strobe lights, musical entrances, and a roaring crowd. I don’t get out much, so it was magical for both of us to be at a live event in person.
Let me pause to tell you about a funny thing that happens when I go in public. It happens so often that I named this phenomenon: “the Lazarus moment.” I’m what doctors call an “ambulatory wheelchair user” which means that I use a chair but I am capable of walking aka “ambulating.” Unfortunately, most people do not know that a large percentage wheelchair users are ambulatory. It happened when I went to grab fries and sodas for us. A guy saw me *stand up from my chair*, and he was visibly shook, seriously considering whether I have just been healed by miracle before his very eyes. People cannot hide the look on their faces. I couldn’t reach the ketchup dispenser from my wheelchair, so I stood. (And yes that’s a separate issue.) As a result, that poor man might never be the same again. He experienced a Lazarus moment.
When we got home, little buddy asked me about how much walking he had done. I did what I do: I pulled it up on the iPad and drew out a visual for him.
I used a rainbow line to make it easier to follow the path we took. We entered the stadium from the pink arrow. Each place we had to stop and have a conversation with a person is a circle: red, orange, yellow, green. blue, purple. And each arrow was the path we walked until we finally got seated at the purple circle. The black arrow is how we left the stadium.
It took us over 45 minutes to be seated and we spoke to 7 separate staff people (who are allegedly trained in this very task) and still ended up seating ourselves in a section we weren’t even authorized to be.
Customer Service: Attempt #1
I followed up with Charlotte FC via text message the Monday after the game. Logan told me that Stephanie would call, which she did.
When Stephanie and I spoke, I explained the entire saga and she apologized profusely. I got the impression from the phone call that she was mortified on my behalf. We were offered free tickets to return to Charlotte for another game. I upped the ante a bit and asked for a second pair for our friends and Charlotte FC obliged. She sent me four tickets to the May 18, 2024 game!
How it go the second time? You already know that if I’m writing a part two about this, it wasn’t simple either. As soon as I receive the last update, I’ll send it out.