Not long ago I went to two amazing concerts within four days. I saw Melissa Etheridge at a local community college and Bruce Springsteen at a larger out-of-town venue.
One place went overboard in making sure the event was accessible to me with my walker and the other one could not have been worse. And to top it off, our ride from the hotel to the concert at the out-of-town show was a shuttle bus from hell. Not for the other passengers, but definitely for me and my friend.
The first venue was the College of the Canyons Performing Arts Center (PAC). The staff and volunteers at the PAC an intimate venue with nearly 900 seats, have always done a wonderful job accommodating disabled patrons. I gave them a shout out in a blog post in 2012 for being a place that went out of their way to be accommodating.
Since then, it has gotten even better. Upon entrance to the lobby, I was ushered by a volunteer to a woman who was the accessibility concierge, standing at a podium a few steps away. Did I know where I was sitting? Did I need any assistance? I showed them my ticket and said that first I needed to use the restroom. Did I know where that was? Yes, I said, as I proceeded that direction with a friend. It was as if every attendant had been trained to look for disabled guests and to rush to their assistance. I was helped to my seat, assisted with fitting into a crowded row and was told they would take my walker away but to give them a wave if I needed it during the show. I did not. At the end of the show, a few helpers showed up immediately and assisted me in standing up and getting to my walker.
Melissa killed it.
I knew the Springsteen concert at the Kia Forum in Inglewood would be a challenge - involving a drive, overnight accommodations, transportation to and from the concert and getting to an accessible seat in the venue itself. And the Forum is pretty big - it can hold more than 17,000 fans - so just finding my way to the show was going to be a challenge. I always plan ahead and make advance phone calls to make sure things will be as easy for me as possible. I have used a walker for nearly 19 years since cancer ravaged my body and brain and have seen varying degrees of accessibility over the years - although ADA compliance should be an indisputable standard.
The first obstacle was in securing tickets for the event. I had done my online research and learned that if I could only buy inaccessible tickets they could be exchanged by the venue for accessible seats. In the frenzy for post-COVID Springsteen tour tickets, I was thrilled to score two regular seats - nosebleeds - and the instructions were to call the Forum a day after tickets went on sale to speak to a person in the disabled assistance office. When I did that, I was told exchanging my tickets for accessible ones only applied to the day of the concert. Yeah, right, I’m going to book a hotel, travel more than an hour on the off chance there is an accessible and companion seat available. Then she asked “Do you want to buy accessible tickets?” Um, yes. She sold me two, even though Ticketmaster didn’t have any the day before. They would be available at will-call the day of the show. I sold my original seats to an able-bodied Springsteen fan.
I called the hotel ahead of time to ask if it had a shuttle bus to take us to the Forum. The concierge said the hotel did not have one, but told me about a tour bus service available to take us to and from the concert. Perfect! My husband had driven us to the hotel and would pick us up the next morning.
Ever the planner, I called LA VIP Tours to see if their vans were accessible. One aftereffect of my cancer battle is neuropathy and weakness in both legs. They’ve been getting worse the last few years. I cannot walk long distances or go up stairs unless they are very low. Even a ramp is tough for me to navigate. “Do you need a wheelchair lift?” asked the gentleman at LA VIP. That would work, I said. “We’ll get you up there.” Perfect. For $45 each round- trip, the van would take us to and from the show. I selected a 5 p.m. pickup time - the show was at 7:30.
Armed with maps of the concert venue and seating chart, I made some calls to ensure the experience would go smoothly. Because my accessible tickets were available at will-call, which I noticed was “at the top of the ramp”, I called the Forum’s disability service number the day before the show. Was there any way they could email me the tickets? No. Was there any way my friend could pick up the tickets using my ID and credit card so I wouldn’t have to go up the ramp? No. And I asked where I could be dropped off. At any of the entrances, she said.
I also wanted to know the location of the stage, so I could know which exit or entrance to use. The seating map clearly showed it on one side and I knew my seats were ground level - across the room from the stage. This question seemed to flummox the aid. “The stage is in the middle,” she said. Um, no it’s not, I responded. The seating chart clearly shows the stage is on one side of the arena.
I placed another call to the shuttle office. Did I have to request a van with a wheelchair lift? Do you use a wheelchair? the woman on the phone asked. No, I use a walker but I can’t go up stairs and the lift would work fine. “You’ll be able to go up these stairs,” she said. “They are very small steps.”
The day of the show, we made it to our hotel about an hour before pick-up. In keeping with the comedy-of-errors theme of our trip, the lady at the front desk said our room was not accessible even though we had reserved one. I had brought my emergency non-accessible room aids - a step stool and a toilet topper - because it wasn’t the first time a hotel messed up on accessible quarters.
They gave us keys to the room and, surprise: it was accessible. My husband took a photo of my friend, Norma, and me in the hotel room happily looking forward to the show….little did we know we would face obstacle after obstacle before a note was played.
Outside the lobby, the van arrived right on schedule and I nearly cried when I saw how high the steps were to climb on board - higher than any stairs I had ever seen. My husband went to the room to get the step stool and with the help of three people, I was able to get up Mount Everest, I mean the VIP van stairs. We decided to leave the stool with the van driver Jesus for my return trip. After a four-mile ride, our driver pulled over not at one of the entrances, but at least 1/4 mile away across a nearly vacant parking lot. You are kidding, I said. We asked Jesus if he could just drive me closer after the other Boss fans in the van had disembarked. No, he said. Norma talked to a nearby Forum employee tending to the lot. Did they have a golf cart to get people with mobility issues closer? No, he said. 
Jesus gave us a flyer showing where we were dropped off (the yellow star in the middle) and where we would be picked up (the other yellow star after we exited using the red arrow pathways).
The walk to the van after the show would be twice as long as the one I took upon drop off. It was across two busy streets at what would be nearly 11:30 at night. I walk at a turtle’s pace, so I would need super powers to get across those streets containing thousands of giddy fans heading home. If I didn’t survive the trek, arrangements could be made right away, because the van would pick us up between a cemetery and a flower shop. Usually, I replace my walker with a wheelchair if I know I have to walk a long distance - but my calls led me to believe I could be dropped off close to the entrance.
Trudge, trudge, trudge. We thought maybe we were in a Punk’d episode when we interacted with uninformed employee after uninformed employee. We asked directions to will-call and were pointed in one direction. Turtle-step after turtle-step, we didn’t see a clear path to the booth. We asked a second employee and they literally pointed the opposite direction toward the area where we had just walked. Turtle-step after turtle-step, we reversed our course and began to doubt the second employee’s guidance. We asked a third person and they sent us the opposite direction again. We were to keep going until we saw a black tent. That would be the will-call.
Trudge, trudge, trudge, crowded line after crowded line. We had been dropped off at the Kareem Court lot, on the exact opposite side of the box office. We finally got to the will-call booth under the black tent. It was the wrong will-call booth, only for VIPs. The correct one was up the dreaded ramp.
I found a solitary bench up the ramp where I sat after we retrieved our tickets. The arena doors were not yet opened, but fortunately there was a patio where we could buy food and drinks and relax before we got inside. We didn’t see any chairs. The guard at the entrance told Norma it would not be a problem to grab our food and then sit on the will-call bench to eat it. I went inside to select our fare, left Norma there to wait in line, then I tried to go outside the gate to the solo bench. The guards at the gate said I very definitely could NOT do that. No leaving the patio area once you are in.
I summoned Norma and told her the bench plans were no more. We set our tacos on a ledge next to the trash bins and I had to stand and lean against the ledge to balance while I ate my taco.
When the arena doors finally opened, we had to use the restroom. The hallways were jam-packed and as we inched along, we faced a sea of humanity in line to use the ladies’ room. Usually I can politely make my way past, explaining that I’ll be using the disabled stall (which they should not be using) but it was too crowded to make any headway.
Then, the only nice staff member we met all night approached us and said there was another accessible restroom just down the hall and if we went to the guy in the suit, he would take care of us. Woo hoo!
Trudge, trudge, excuse me, sorry, trudge, trudge.
We passed a woman in a wheelchair complaining that the Forum needed to do a better job of accommodating disabled folks.
We finally got to the man in the suit. We told him we heard he could help us find the accessible restroom. He was visibly annoyed. We quickly realized he must have hated his job so much, there was no way he would voluntarily assist us in any way. Well, he said, you have to move there to the end of the line, which we did. And then, he told us to back in another inch and another inch. I expected him to say “NO BRUCE FOR YOU!” if we stepped across the imaginary line. When we finally got to the beginning of the line, he pointed to two accessible single-toilet restrooms. He gave Norma the third degree when she wanted to use the other toilet, like she was supposed to leave me there and get back in line for the first restroom we saw.
We took an elevator down to the floor level. Just as I’d feared, we had arrived at the opposite end of where our seats were in the arena. Trudge, trudge, trudge. We got to our floor level seats — on a slight platform with a wheelchair lift - 10 minutes before showtime at 7:30. We had left our hotel (I repeat: four miles away!) at 5 p.m.
The wheelchair lift broke down about two hours into the show. I know because I had to use the restroom and it worked on the way down but when I came back it wouldn’t budge. It was quite a task to find someone who could fix it. Three guys who were using the lift as a bar top for their beers offered to carry me up the stairs. I declined. We finally were able to find an attendant who could jerry-rig it so I could get back to my seat. This was not an intermission. We were wasting valuable time, fussing with the lift rather than enjoying the concert.
The show was spectacular.
Before it was over, we decided we would not use the shuttle because it was just too far away and I dreaded going up the massive stairs again. And my legs were extremely tired. We planned to call an Uber, Lyft or taxi to take us the short trip back, eat the $45 and leave my handy step stool behind. We asked for assistance to find where the ride-shares or taxis picked up and we were met with another round of incompetent, unhelpful employees, pointing every which way. One even suggested we go out to the street and summon one from the sidewalk. We trudged to the opposite side of the building where there was Lot H, dedicated to ride-sharing services. We couldn’t book one for less than an hour wait. There was no place to sit.
Just then a rogue car emerged from the lot with the driver’s window down, “Anyone need a ride?”
He was a freelance ride-share driver who charged us $80. He said other ride services would charge us a minimum of $150 after a big concert like this one. He said he is very aware of the needs of the disabled, because one of his legs was amputated above the knee. As I put my seatbelt on in the front seat, I silently hoped it wasn’t his right leg. He also showed me where I could scan to download a website so I could buy cosmetics from him! Ummm, no thanks. I just wanted to get back to our hotel.
He got lost along the way and when we eventually pulled up to our destination, he forced us to give him a crazy high tip. We were just happy he didn’t kidnap or kill us. All told, we spent close to $300 to be shuttled to and from our hotel to the Forum, including two tips to Jesus.
Did I mention it was a FOUR MILE DRIVE?
There are three things I learned from this adventure:
1) I will never go to the Kia Forum again.
2) I will never book another trip with LA VIP Tours.
3) Venues should learn from the College of the Canyons PAC - whose event staff is mostly volunteers - when it comes to accommodating people with disabilities. A little bit of training is all it would take for event workers to be aware of and kindly help those of us who need it.
If Springsteen ever plays the College of the Canyons PAC, I will be there in a hungry heartbeat.
