Our first ambitious trip was a year and a half after my husband’s C7-T1 accident. We took months to plan. In Alaska, we would have to reserve rooms in the posh touristy hotels. There weren’t a lot of options.
We had every detail nailed down, but learned quickly that “accessible room with roll-in shower” meant nothing to a desk clerk. We had already had it with botched reservations when we checked into the Wrangell-St Elias Princess and found yet again no ADA room, which had been promised to us even that morning when we called to triple check.
Such elegance and quiet decorum all around, and I tried to gracefully communicate. No, this other room would not work — the bathroom is too small. But frustrated that all had again gone awry, I heard myself announce firmly to the entire hotel lobby, “My husband will just have to take a crap in the bedroom!” The white-faced clerk disappeared, and when he returned, miraculously, our reserved room was once again available.
Porter and Ann-Toy Broughton
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When preparing to attend a disability event at the Arkansas state capitol, I thought I had enough time to fold some laundry before I left. The next thing I knew I was running late. I jumped in my van and drove as if my life depended on it. In the building I noticed all the seating at the back was taken, so I had no choice but to go right up the center of the room to the front row. As I got near the front, where Gov. Mike Huckabee was sitting with many other dignitaries, a squeaking noise got louder and louder. I saw people rocking back and forth with laughter, looked down, and there was a pair of my panties caught in the wheel of my chair. Every time my wheel went around, my giant pair of granny panties flopped in the air! To make matters worse, I was up next to give a speech about “Overcoming Adversity.” So I leaned over and asked the lady beside me if she could find someone with a pair of scissors. The capital maintenance supervisor couldn’t find scissors, but he brought hedge trimmers! Chop, Chop! The entire room broke out in laughter. To this day people laugh when they see me coming.
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I remember one of the first times falling out of my chair. It was a summer night, and I had had a couple of beers at the local pub. I was rolling up the driveway and must have gone off the side of it, because the next thing I remember, I was lying on my back, looking up at my wheelchair. My friends all came running over to help. I simply looked up at them and said, “Get my blanket and pillow, I’m crashing here tonight.”