The Less Than Helpful Honda Center

“May all of your nightmares be horrific.”

– Alice Cooper

The evening got off to a shaky start as my wife, Nicole, and I began our evening at the Garden Walk in Anaheim. We were parked in a handicapped spot, on the same level as the mall's street entrance, but a few steps separated the garage from the shopping center. The elevator that was supposed to be available to bypass the stairs was marked "Out of Order" and a search of the surrounding area provided no alternative. With considerable effort, Nicole was able to get out of her wheelchair and navigate the obstacle, but a person with greater challenges would have been denied access. It is surprising that a building constructed after the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act was not required to include a ramp in its design.

After dinner, we made a short trip to the Honda Center to attend the Freaks on Parade concert. This experience got off to a good start with smooth access to the disabled parking areas. As we approached the security screening a staffer saw the wheelchair and called us over as we approached the security check so that we did not have to navigate the rat maze to get through the metal detectors. However, Nicole was surprised that they did not check her or her backpack as they sent me back through the security line.

Navigating to our seats was simple enough, with attended elevators available to bring us up to the correct level and a helpful usher to get us situated. The seats were an obvious afterthought, placed at the end of the entry tunnel. This subjected us to the occasional rowdy fan who would just stop in the area behind us but the view of the stage was great.

After the first band, Filter, had played I scoped out the bathroom situation. Despite the fact that we were seated in a designated "Accessible Section," there were no companion bathrooms on that level. I found the "Helpful Honda" customer service desk and was told that these bathrooms were available on the entry-level at the first aid station.

Having a plan in place we settled in for the second opening band, Ministry. As soon as the last note had been played we made a beeline for the elevators before they got too crowded. We told the attendant that we needed the accessible bathrooms and he dropped us off in an area that was considerably swankier than the rest of the arena. We were directed down a hallway that led us past the Duck's locker room. At the direction of another attendant, we made a turn that dead-ended us at a black curtain marked "floor." It was a moment right out of Spinal Tap.

We turned around and asked the attendant once again for the companion bathroom. She apologized saying that she thought we were trying to return to our seats and sent us back past the locker rooms to a "man in a suit" who directed us down another hallway, past a VIP room. It was there that we found a line for two gender-specific bathrooms.

Seeing us in line, a man at the front told us that they were just waiting for people to come out and my wife could go ahead. Nicole explained that she needed my help and would wait for them to leave. He peeked his head in and asked if there were any empty stalls. Hearing a "Yes," he asked if anyone minded if a woman's husband came in to help her. The answer was a unanimous "No." Rather sheepishly, I pushed the wheelchair into the bathroom, making sure to keep my eyes down as we traveled. As I maneuvered her into the last stall, I heard a man's voice yelling. At first, it did not register, but I finally realized that he was yelling at me. It was the security guard who had been guarding the VIP room and he was demanding that I leave the woman's room.

Intent on helping my wife I motioned to the chair and continued at the task at hand. The ladies who had invited us in took up the fight and I could feel the embarrassment emanating from Nicole's direction. The tension was only broken when one of the other ladies offered to help my wife. Eager to end the episode Nicole reluctantly agreed and I left. I was passed by a female staffer entering the room saying that she would help.

Once outside the bathroom, the security guard kept on repeating that "women deserve their privacy." The men waiting for their partners objected to his callousness reminding him that I was only in there to help. I fumed internally; he had sacrificed my wife's privacy and dignity for a battle no one else had asked him to fight.

According to the ADA, companions of the opposite sex are supposed to be allowed into a gender-specific bathroom if a gender-neutral facility is not available. The staff could have required that the bathroom be cleared first, but no such effort was made. It was also unnecessary since no one who was using the bathroom objected.

As we headed back to the elevator, the couple who had been kind enough to set up our entry into the bathroom approached and asked Nicole how she was doing. My wife began to cry. It had been a humiliating experience. We got back to our seats in time for Alice Cooper to begin. Unfortunately, the spirit of the evening had been diminished by the events and it took a while to get back into the show. As Cooper left the stage, he expressed the wish that "all of your nightmares be horrific." I could not help but think that my wife had just lived through one of hers.

The headliner, Rob Zombie, put on an amazing show and we were in a great mood as we left our seats. This, however, was mixed with trepidation as we knew that we had to make a stop at the bathroom for the long ride home.

Fortunately, we were able to find the first aid station this time. This, however, was a small, cramped room that required me to lift the chair to navigate into the bathroom. This pre-ADA building was definitely not wheelchair friendly and it was apparent no care had been taken to make the most of what they had. Going to the bathroom is a basic human need and the customers at this arena should be able to do so without losing their dignity.

EPILOGUE: The following day we took two of my daughters to see "Stop Making Sense" at the AMC Dine-In Theater at the Westfield Topanga in Woodland Hills. The theater entrance is on the third floor and is only served by one public elevator. It was out of order.

With Nicole unable to navigate the escalator safely, I had to hunt down a staff member to find out what we could do as the elevator had no signage. The solution was the freight elevator that was behind locked doors. According to the AMC staffer, the elevator had been broken for several days and mall security had refused to offer any temporary solutions until the problem was fixed. It was very disappointing for a building that was just renovated.

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Carl Petersen is a parent advocate for public education, particularly for students with special education needs, who serves as the Education Chair for the Northridge East Neighborhood Council. As a Green Party candidate in LAUSD’s District 2 School Board race, he was endorsed by Network for Public Education (NPE) Action. Dr. Diane Ravitch has called him “a valiant fighter for public schools in Los Angeles.” For links to his blogs, please visit www.ChangeTheLAUSD.com. Opinions are his own.