In the first part of this series, I described my attempts to plan winter expeditions to the Four Seasons Centre for The Performing Arts and to Koerner Hall with an open-toed cast on my foot. The main challenge was finding information in advance about how to transfer from my home to the interiors of these venues without exposure to frigid temperatures, ice, snow, slush or rain. Here is what happened.
The Trifonov Recital at Koerner Hall
It was 20 days after my injury, and my mobility was definitely improving enough to enable me to get from the Bloor Street entrance of Koerner Hall to my seat in the auditorium. The ‘known unknown’ was the weather, which would determine how slippery it would be between the curb and the entrance, as well as how cold my toes would get. I had discovered that even with the thickest sock, the pain intensified instantaneously in the cold, and an extreme temperature plunge would make things impossible. The question wasn’t just what the weather would be like at 7 in the evening when I set out for the concert, but what I might find afterward. One of the major pitfalls of outings with a cast is that conditions change, and this can prey on your mind throughout any event, preventing you from being fully engaged in it. The weather would also determine the availability of cabs.
As it turned out, the day of the recital was quite chilly, with the temperature due to drop seriously during the evening. In addition, though the day was dry, there was a possibility of precipitation, though it was less than 50 percent. I watched the conditions throughout the day, with the sinking awareness that it would be unpleasantly cold getting there, and worse on the way back. I also ordered the taxi for 7 p.m. earlier in the day, double-checking with the dispatcher that it would come when I needed it. I couldn’t order one for the way back because it is not possible to estimate the length of a piano recital due to the eventuality of encores. And a Trifinov encore is not one to miss.
At 5 p.m. the cab I ordered for 7 p.m. arrived, despite assurances, it would come at the appointed time. Once that had failed it seemed pointless to place another advance order, so I realized I would have to order a cab just before I wanted one, with no guarantee I would get one. Then it started to snow. As it turned out, this was a brief flurry, which stopped well before the recital, but I couldn’t have known at that point whether it might snow again, as was forecasted. This meant that I might be trying to arrange for a cab to pull up right in front of the box office entrance at the same time as 1135 other people were also leaving, including a number of others who needed curbside pick up.
I was aware that it was quite likely that everything would work out. But I was also aware of my heart pounding more palpably than usual, and I had a rising sense of trepidation. I realized that I simply didn’t feel safe. There’s a vast difference between being safe and feeling safe. One remarkable feature of our public musical gatherings is that so many people can come together in one location and feel as if nothing will go wrong while they pay attention to the performance. This is usually how I feel. But having been the victim of an accident less than 3 weeks earlier and living with the restrictions it imposed, I was far less risk-tolerant than usual. I decided I couldn’t go.
The Four Seasons Centre
Twenty-two days later my fracture was not completely healed, but I had graduated from my cast to short stints in hiking boots, which I wore to the final performance of Rigoletto, and the day after, The Abduction from The Seraglio. With an uneven gait and a still-swollen foot, I was not completely pain-free, but I certainly felt light-hearted being able to transport myself in near normal fashion. I even went by the Royal Conservatory en route to inspect the distance from the curb to the door of the Philosopher’s Walk entrance to the building: 150 steps!!
When I arrived at the Four Seasons Centre I went down to the parking garage to look for myself. An extremely helpful and pleasant COC staff person named Adam was stationed in the elevator foyer outside the parking garage, presumably to facilitate folks wanting to get to the performance. Although I was now wearing street boots, I explained that I had just stopped wearing a cast and wanted to know, for future reference, whether there is a way for a car to enter the facility, drop off a passenger, and then drive back out.
“My goodness!!” Adam exclaimed, “I have never been asked that question.” With a mild sense of victory at having stumped the in-house staff twice, I told him they didn’t know at the box office either. “Let me find out” he insisted, talking softly into the microphone around his neck, to communicate with the front desk. Inspecting the entry from where I stood, which was an automated arm and ticket dispensing machine on one side and an automated arm with a payment device on the opposite side, and no spot to actually get out of a car I thought I knew the answer. Adam confirmed my hunch. There is a way to game the system, by taking an entry card so the arm rises, driving in, immediately driving to the exit and stating that you do not intend to pay. “But that is not recommended,” Adam relayed from the management voice that was passing information to him.
I looked around at the audience at both performances to see if there were others dealing with casts and mobility restrictions. There were many people with canes and walking sticks, one or two people in scooters or motorized wheelchairs, one individual with Nordic walking poles, another with his arm in a sling. There were two people on crutches, one who was sitting in a wheelchair but wasn’t wearing a cast, and one who was wearing the same cast that I had. Later I saw the gentleman with the wheelchair standing on his crutches beside a car in the curb lane on University Avenue while another person helped him lower himself into the passenger side seat. Cars and cabs often pull up at this spot, if they can get to the curb, but often it’s necessary to step into the lane and hold up traffic. The patron managed but would have been far safer if there were a traffic-free zone. And he was only able to do this because he had both a driver and another passenger to assist him.
Conclusion
Because we have laws concerning accessibility for people with disabilities I assumed that there would be adequate accommodations for me. I was both surprised and confused when this was not the case. I had to do some research to discover that disabilities covered by the Accessibility for Ontarians With Disabilities Act are long-term or permanent disabilities. Because my immobility is transient, I’m on my own to facilitate my needs.
I do not object strenuously to this because it’s pretty clear that the built environment isn’t elastic enough to adjust to an infinite variety of possible impairments. Some solutions might have to be improvised.
But I also think it’s peculiar that there is no mention of casts or fractures on these websites. Bone fractures are not uncommon and increase with age, so it would be commercially worthwhile for public venues to include them in their thinking. And their communication about accessibility should be in accessible language. Text-heavy websites with legalistic language about “accessible customer service practices, policies and procedures” and channels through which your request for information will be “read and reviewed by an appropriate representative ” are exhausting. When you’re injured all you want is clear, practical and comprehensive information about what to do and how to do it.
It’s important to acknowledge the great lengths that Koerner Hall and the FSCPA go to in order to make it possible for people with a wide variety of restrictions to attend their events. What’s a bit trickier is to recognize the people who are absent because they can’t find a way to manage. I wonder if one reason I didn’t see many people in casts at the FSCPA was because they had just chosen my solution and stayed home until they recovered.
If you haven’t read the first part of the series, see here.
LUDWIG VAN TORONTO
