Well, the ushers at ACT need a round or two of what we used to call "sensitivity training." (Question: Is it still called that? Or has such training gone out of style, under that or any other name?)
As we navigated our way through the ramps and elevator to reach our seats in the gallery, every usher along the way spoke to ME, NOT to Ree, without exception. This included the usher who pointed out that our seats were down three steep steps, so Ree might want to use the restroom before the performance. I felt like a mom with a 2-year-old with the usher asking me if my charge might need to pee in advance.
Now, Ree uses a walker (as did two characters in the play), he's not deaf. Or blind. Or dumb, although he does speak softly.
ACT proudly claims to be "fully accessible," but that's not quite true. (From an e-mail I received from Service Account: "Yes, ACT is fully accessible, and you can get to all of our performance spaces with elevators.")
Yes, except for those last three tight steps to reach our seats in the gallery. Vertigo time. I would have had trouble walking down those steps, and Ree didn't even try. An usher suggested that we take the two seats right behind ours, at the top of the steps. That worked, although it was still a bit of a struggle for Ree to get into his seat, which was at the end of the row.
That was a good call on my part--to ask for seats at the end of a row.
Once we were seated, people had to climb over and around us to reach their seats further into the row, and again, without exception, they spoke to me, rather than to Ree. I told one man that Ree couldn't stand up easily to let him into the row, and he replied, "as long as he doesn't mind my stepping over him." (Granted, I was the one who spoke to this man, but it would have been nicer if he had replied to Ree.)
We ran into trouble after the show, when Ree had trouble getting to his feet in the tight space. Several very kind people offered to help--Thank you!--but again the offers were made to me, not to Ree, as though I was lugging along this well-dressed, bearded doll who couldn't speak for himself.
ACT is also not accessible when it comes to safe drop-off or pick-up by cab (or any car, for that matter). Our cab could not stop on the street in front of the theater, and pulled around the corner to stop in a space that was posted "No stops." Ree had to get out on the street side, which was a bit hairy.
After the play, we weren't sure where to wait for our cab (I had called in advance for both cabs), and walked back and forth across the street twice before figuring out that the only place we were going to be able to get into a cab was in the next block down on Union, where the curb sign reads "cabs only," or words to that effect.
The cab driver who brought us home was exceptionally kind, helping fold Ree's walker and stowing it in the trunk, and helping to stuff Ree into the back seat of the cab. He also helped me gently pull Ree out of the cab when we arrived back at the Manor at 9:40, and waited with his lights on until we got inside.
I tipped him $4 on an $8 fare.
We loved the play (more about the play itself to come) and loved getting dressed up and going out, but my point is this: The whole adventure was such a hassle, and took so much energy and planning, that not many people in our situation would bother. Too much trouble.
If we hadn't felt so strongly about seeing this particular play, Assisted Living, we would have stayed home.
See also:
Assisted Living: The Play
Assisted Living: Goin' to the Play
Assisted Living: Q & A
Read about the real thing: Assisted Living
@ Jeanne Sather 2013.
