Arguably, the most recognizable quote from the movie “The Fast and the Furious” that was once iconic, but is now more cheesetastic, is when Dominic Toretto, played by Vin Diesel, tells Paul Walker’s character Brian O’Conner that “I live my life a quarter mile at a time.” Within the context of the movie that line references the distance that an illegal street car race covers from start to finish, and Dom is the winningest and most respected street racer around.
If I were to apply that to my world I would say that I live my life three inches at a time. Those three inches represent the highest threshold that I can roll over in my wheelchair to get into doorways, etc. on my own. In my 15 plus years of being a wheelchair user I have figured out that anything over three inches is hard for both my footrests and front wheels to clear.
Even rolling over a three inch threshold can be a bit harrowing at times. First, I can’t just seamlessly roll over a three inch obstacle without slowing down or breaking stride. If I did try to hammer over one it would very likely result in me face-first on the ground. Clearly, that’s a situation to avoid. So I always get my front wheelchair wheels up slowly first, which always feels like I’m putting extra strain on the chair in the process. Once the front wheels are up there’s no more room to get a running start to get the rest of me up, so I end up rolling the back wheels up slowly too, which often results in me doing a wheelie/somewhat violent lunge forward. I’ve learned to lean my body forward to counter-balance the weight when I do it, but when I don’t the power and pop of the wheelie can catch me by surprise. The same thing can happens with two inch thresholds. I also have to be sure to take two to three inch thresholds straight on, because if I’m off center then my chair can spin me just enough to swing me through the doorway crooked. That is especially true when my wheels are wet.
But pretty much anything over three inches requires some assistance. To clear obstacles in the four inch threshold area I need someone to help lift my front end up then give me another lift-boost from behind. Anything higher than that and my whole wheelchair needs to be lifted to get over it. My chair and I weigh over 400 pounds combined, so doing even a five inch lift can be a collective challenge for whoever helps lift me. And as many times as I’ve been lifted over the years it’s hard to shake the nervousness every time about the potential damage that a drop would do to either me or the chair. Thankfully, that has never happened before.
Thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act the vast majority of places that I go do not present much of a threshold challenge. But that being said, three things still present an access challenge in that regard: 1) buildings that pre-date the ADA and consequently are “grandfathered” from needing to get up to code unless they undergo “significant renovations,” 2) places that exercise a minimal approach to access and think that a two to three inch doorway threshold, etc. is “accessible” enough, and 3) people’s homes or other buildings the ADA doesn’t apply to.
Nothing can be done about grandfathered buildings, and on the whole I don’t need to get into them for anything anyway. However, the lone recent exception is that I can’t get into my girlfriend’s bottom floor condo that only has stair access. That has been a major bummer for both of us but we’re working around it the best that we can.
The latter two are the bigger challenge. Any restaurant or related establishment that forces me to roll over a 2.5 inch threshold just to get in pisses me off, and it always makes me consider going somewhere else instead. My dad calls that “speaking with your wallet.” But if I’m in a group or on a date usually I have to go with the flow and power through.
When it comes to people’s homes it seems like in about eight out of every ten cases over the years I’ve needed to use a ramp or heavy lifting to get in. In recent years a lot of my friends have lived in split level houses, which means lifting me up a few stairs just to get in then up or down a flight of stairs. That’s never been worth the effort. Having backyard or garage hangouts has typically been the solution when the weather is nice.
Like with any well used tool, over the years I’ve gained a sharp eye for places I can and can’t get into. Moreover, I know what does and doesn’t work. What gets frustrating sometimes is when others don’t grasp that concept and/or don’t take my word for it. Many times people don’t understand that “just a few steps” are still steps I can’t roll over. Other times I’ll get a blanket “we’ll make it work.” But over the years I’ve acquired a counter saying that “we’ll make it work doesn’t always work for me.” In other words, I’m not putting myself in any precarious access situations just to appease others. A bunch of years ago a friend of mine was totally bent on getting me inside his new place even though after a split-second assessment I knew it wasn’t going to happen. To do so, I had to roll up a fairly steep ramp that consisted of on old overturned front door to get to a landing then cross an almost five inch threshold. He kept saying “Let’s just try it” and got frustrated that I kept saying no. But I knew I wasn’t getting over that five inch threshold even with a lift-boost from him.
All that being said, how does my big Hollywood movie scene go? Something like this:
Exterior. Three good friends out on the town approach a cool dive bar that they’ve been talking about checking out for weeks. As they approach the entrance they see that the doorway has a beat up threshold that is about a three inches high.
Friend 1: “Dean, that’s quite a bump, are you going to be able to roll over that to get in?”
Shawn: Takes off a pair of sweet mirrored shades for dramatic effect. “Gentleman follow me: I live my life three inches at a time.”
And scene.
How would your Hollywood accessibility movie scene go? Are you livin’ life three inches at a time?
Photo Source: jeremydeades
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