Recently, my friend Sandra and I enjoyed another dining experience in the city; the food and service at The Vault were excellent. While waiting for our meal, I had my usual coffee and a glass of water so, of course, the inevitable happens. A visit to the ladies room.
As I often do, for a first visit to a new dining location, I used my wheelchair. Once inside the bathroom, I noticed that the wheelchair designated stall was occupied. I peered underneath the door and saw a pair of little feet. Ah ha! A child. By the size of her legs, she looked to be a young one! To me, anyone under 20 is a child. I’m officially an old broad.
I was about to engage her in a teachable moment. I waited and waited, and waited some more. Then, the main door to the ladies room opened just as the stall door opened. A man peeked in from the outside door— the little girl’s father was wondering what was taking her so long. ‘Her’ was Sophie. Finally, she appeared.
After washing her hands, her father signaled her to go with him. He smiled. I put my hand up, indicating that I wanted to have a word with his daughter. She was standing off to one side, both of us facing the stall doors as I pointed to one, then the other. I asked her why she chose the stall with the bigger door. As was expected — the words “I don’t know” came out of her mouth. We exchanged smiles.
I told her that people who use wheelchairs and crutches, and canes and the like need the stall with the bigger door. I then asked her what she would do the next time she had to use the bathroom and had to choose the big door or the small door. Sophie’s choice would be the small door. Big smile. Lesson learned. We said our good-byes. Before making my way back to my table, I stopped at the cash and asked to speak with the manager. It turns out she was the stylish young woman on whose dress I had commented to my friend as we had been waiting for our meal. As I rolled along, the little girl, with a big smile, waved. Of course, I waved back. I made a new friend.
The manager and I had a conversation and I invited her to join me in the bathroom to discuss some accessibility/safety concerns; she was most amenable to being educated.I should point out that there was a small handle on the outside of the door and on the inside, but the one on the inside was too small — space would be better served having something like a towel bar mounted in the middle of the door. The mandatory textured safety/grab bars were in place, so a grab bar on the door was the restaurant management’s way of demonstrating they go the extra mile for their mobility challenged clientele. I thanked her for making that addition but gently pointed out that to further enhance the safety, a longer bar would be helpful to the elderly and those with balance or other disorders to upright mobility. She agreed.
I pointed to the sinks, noting that the mirror was ideally suited to the seated patron of their dining establishment but the soap dispenser was out of reach. From my wheelchair, though there was a cut-away at the sink, I still couldn’t reach the soap dispenser as it was on the back wall, when it should have been positioned on the side wall. In fact, a soap dispenser on each side wall would be ideal, for the right or left-handed user.
Using the example of the little girl who chose the wheelchair/mobility disabled designated stall instead of the ‘regular’ one, I suggested to the manager that they feature the wheelchair symbol on the door itself, explaining that the stall will be less likely to be misused and abused if the designation is present. I went on to share a conversation I’ve had more than once with youngsters regarding vandalism to mall bathrooms and stalls. I asked a group of youngsters lounging on a wheelchair ramp at Brookside Mall if they’d bother a stall that had the wheelchair emblem in place where they could see it. They all agreed that they wouldn’t - ‘that would be mean,’ one said. That gave me an opportunity ask another question. Why were they hanging out on the ramp when there were benches available just on the other side of it beyond the steps? I explained how I, as a wheelchair user needed to get a ‘good run’ at a ramp if I was to successfully make it to the top without rolling backwards. They cleared off so I could demonstrate. They had their collective lightbulb moment.
If given opportunity and encouragement, people will make the right choice. All is not lost.
Carla MacInnis Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, New Brunswick with her aging Australian silky terrier and a rambunctious Maltese. She can be reached at carmacrockwell@xplornet.ca via email.
