Disability Day 2015: On Disabled Access – A Day in Town

Every single one of these applies.
We have a disabled parking rank outside a Starbucks and Yo!Sushi (which is perfect for me): only part of the curb is dropped at the very end of the street. I have to either a) get out of the car and hobble to the chair on the pavement or b) let my brother wheel me literally along the road. And that’s providing that people without Blue Badges aren’t already parked there.
I can count on one hand how many of the “dropped curbs” in Cheltenham are actually disabled and wheelchair-friendly. If it is not flat, it is not accessibly with a wheelchair. Some are at least 3 inches. Get a ruler: look at that number.
I can’t shop in Waterstone’s without risking grazing my knuckles on tables and displays or accidentally damaging books as I wheel past because of the lack of space. I can’t use one of the carparks after 6pm because there’s no disabled access.
I have panic attacks when travelling on the train, regarding getting on and off because I have been forgotten on the platform with nobody arriving with a ramp, hearing notices of the train about to leave, with still nobody arriving. This is with pre-arranged Assisted Travel.
 Hate getting into lifts because people treat you like luggage, expecting you to be stuffed into a corner like just another bag and paying no mind to whether their elbows or bags or whatever are in your face. Imagine this with also suffering from life-crippling social anxiety. So basically if someone has a bag shoved in my face I literally can’t even ask them to move.
I hate booking taxis to get places because they make a fuss about getting the wheelchair in the (amply-sized) boot.
I can’t go to some restaurants because the loos, whilst supposedly-disabled, do not fit the wheelchair inside the small space.
I can’t even open the door of some disabled loos because the door is too heavy.
I hate the street because people do not move out the way of the wheelchair and then blame my brother and I for getting their shins or calves clipped when trying to navigate around careless people who do not respond to the visible sight of a wheelchair or to the polite request for them to move.
I hate when people at train stations demand my brother goes through the turnstile alone and before me and then come back to push me themselves like I’m luggage. You do not have the right to physically move me.
Many of the “accessible” stops on the Tube are not. There are gaps down which the smaller front wheels of a wheelchair get stuck. Trust me: it’s been a thing. It’s terrifying.
I hate being glared at by old people who seem to think that I am not entitled to be in a wheelchair because I look young.
I can’t go into Game in town because I literally can only just fit the wheelchair through the weird side barriers of the door, and taken at the wrong angle the chair is jolted or I will graze my knuckles. My wheelchair is standard size.
I hate wheeling in town near the bus stops and CEX because the pavement is so slanted and the people near the bus stops do not consolidate themselves when wheeling by, meaning I have to be fully on the slant. Have you ever been wheeled on a slant that is very noticeable? It isn’t nice.
Hotels suck. An accessible room that doesn’t have a shower seat or stool is not an accessible room.
I could go on, but I’m tired and I could literally be here all day.

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