I want to tell you a story about going to one of my friend's ordinations.
I went to his church, which was supposedly accessible,
but the people that were there did not know where the ramp was,
so they told me to go up a 6 inch ledge to get into the church, which could lead to a problem.
Luckily, my chair has good suspension on it. I had to take an elevator, which was approximatly
the size of a closet up to the sanctuary. I was surprised that it was not an old crank elevator.
Maybe I am exagerating just a little, but this is what it felt like, and I am not even
standing, thankfully.
The little boy that was told to help me find the sanctuary after I got off the elevator pointed his
finger at me as if I were in a creepy horror movie. It was a teaching experience for one little boy who kept asking me why I was in a wheelchair and if my legs were broken. My friend told him that he should ask me what my name was instead, and after that, the little boy got quiet and didn't say anything else. I wish that the little boy had not felt bad about asking questions.
A recreation of the little boys finger. Please note: This is my index finger, not my middle finger.
The good thing about this trip was that the people were nice
and they were very willing to learn from my experience.
By the way, the ramp ended up being in a creepy dark basement,
but at least I did not have to go off a 6 inch ledge.
At least there was no ramp like this. THIS is NOT a RAMP!
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