Last week, my friend and I went to see Matt Nathanson in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It always amazes me how different concert experiences can be depending on the venue and the attitude of the staff at that venue. This performer is phenomenal, and the concert should have been incredible. Unfortunately, due to the inability of the manager of the Baton Rouge Varsity Theater to accommodate me and my wheelchair, this was not the case.
Let’s get some background on Mr. Nathanson, shall we? If you haven’t heard his music, you should definitely look him up. His new album, Modern Love, is one of the best I’ve heard as a cohesive album in a long time. I was introduced to him a couple years ago when he opened for Sugarland and Little Big Town and have followed him since. Do you know that song, “Come on Get Higher?” That’s his. I personally love “Faster” and “Queen of the Knots” on the new album the best. Not only does he have a great voice and look great (ladies, we love to watch him wiggle), but he is also hysterical on stage. I don’t think he’s managed to get that really big break yet, but it’s coming. He’s touring with Kelly Clarkson this year and is getting great exposure. He’s got the full package.
My friend drove in from Alabama for the show Monday night, met me at my house, and we left very early for Baton Rouge to make sure we had plenty of time to get there, eat dinner, and be the first ones in the door and at the front of the stage. The entire concert was standing, general admission, so getting in the venue early was key. Or so we thought. My friend had called a couple days before to ask if the venue had easy wheelchair access and if I’d be able to see, and we were assured that I would be able to go down the two top levels to the floor and get right up on the stage. Not so much.
For those of you New Orleanians, the Varsity Theater is sort of like Tipitina’s (that I love), though the majority of the audience is college-age people. There are three bottom levels in the building, each level increasing in height by two steps. There’s also a balcony level with tables that you have to climb a flight of stairs to get to. It’s a very nice venue, but the wheelchair access is horrible.
When we arrived, we were told that, even though we were three hours early, we’d have to sit on the third (top floor) level on the guardrail because my wheelchair couldn’t get down the steps to the bottom level of the floor. Now, remember, we were told by someone who worked there that we would have absolutely no problem getting right up next to the stage a few days before. We were a little bit surprised and aggravated to say the least. We tried to explain to the manager that we had ramps we could use in the car with no problem to get down the two steps, but he would not allow it due to “fire code.” He would not allow us to use one of the back doors with our ramp that only had one set of steps to climb. I was also not allowed to be carried up to the balcony level so that I could see. As people shuffled in, I soon realized there was no way I was going to be able to see the show at all. The problem is that, even with my seat raised, I am at least six inches shorter than most people in wheelchairs. Even though the people in front of me were standing on a platform two feet below mine, there was no way I could see. And on top of that, the guardrail happened to be right at my eye level.
Does this look like a good view to you?
When my friend tried to explain to the manager that I couldn’t see, he turned to her and said, “Ma’am, she has a great spot with a great view, and there’s nothing else I can do.” Now, does this look like a great view to you?
When the opening act, Rachel Platten, (who is adorable and super talented), came out to sign merchandise near us and saw that I couldn’t see at all, she even tried to get the manager to do something about it. That didn’t work either. If the entertainment couldn’t do it, how could we?
Even though the manager at the Varsity was less than polite and not easy to deal with, I understand that he has rules that he has to play by when it comes to having patrons in his establishment. However, these rules should be changed, in every venue, and it’s people like him that should fight for people like us. I have said it time and time again, but I wish people who build these arenas and clubs would sit in a wheelchair for a whole day and just get an idea of what it’s like. They need to understand what it feels like not to have the option to stand up when someone else stands up in front of you, or not to be able to fit into a regular sized bathroom stall. Then maybe there would be a spot closer to the performer with access to the front of the stage for people in wheelchairs, as well as decent-sized, semi-private bathrooms for us.
This is all I see when people stand up in front of me.
It would not be difficult for places like the Varsity to make these accommodations either. All it would take in this particular venue is two ramps on one side of the steps so that wheelchairs could drive down them. (These ramps might even be beneficial for drunk people.) They could even be removable, like they are in the House of Blues in New Orleans. HOB has accommodated wheelchairs by buying a set of long ramps to lay on the stairs before and after each show to let any wheelchair-bound patron attending get into the front of the venue. It required no structural change and was probably fairly inexpensive. You can even buy these ramps in standard lengths online. We have them for our cars.
Let’s put it this way: I’ll never go back to the Varsity until they make some changes. Nor will I recommend it to any of my friends in wheelchairs. Their loss.
Good morning everyone!
I have broken hundreds of bones in my lifetime, yet I can count on one hand how many times I’ve gone to the hospital for a break. This fact usually shocks people.
It really irritates me when people ask me how I know I’ve broken a bone. Let me tell you, when you have broken bones to the extent that I have in twenty-two years, you learn how much more a displaced break hurts than a hairline fracture. You learn what “broken” sounds and feels like as opposed to “out of joint.” You can tell exactly where the break is and how severe it is. There’s no need for an x-ray. I’ve learned that the louder the snap, crackle, or pop, the worse it’s going to be. It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t had these experiences, but trust me, if you ask another Type III OI person, they will back me up on this.
I am convinced that music is one of the most powerful forces in the world. I don’t know why, but something happens when you combine words with melody that makes the impact of those words ten times greater. Think about it. If I told you to “imagine all the people living life at peace,” in a very flat, everyday voice, you’d probably just shrug me off and not think twice about it. But when that short sentence is combined with melody and sung by John Lennon, you have one of the most famous, influential, effective songs ever made–”
I like music that is upbeat and positive. I use it to work and to wind down. There are certain songs that just make you feel good no matter how horrible your day has been. My “mantra” is from Sugarland’s “
And then there are those songs that say exactly what you wish your could say to your friend, loved one, or enemy. Kids, stop reading here, but who hasn’t wanted to say “
As cliche as Glee has made it, who doesn’t still smile when they hear “Just a small town girl livin’ in a lonely world,” or “I Love Rock ‘n Roll?” You can’t tell me “Come On Eileen” or Maroon Five’s “This Love” doesn’t still make you want to get up and dance. And no matter what obstacle you are up against, Sugarland’s “
