“We’ll get her taken care of, but he can’t go through the bar with you,” the hostess at a local restaurant told Matt Rosbrugh pointing to his 5-year-old son, Lucas, sitting on his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, but he will be going with us,” Matt snapped back as he made his way down the ramp and through the barroom to his table.
Excuse Matt Rosbrugh for ignoring the request. It’s not that he wanted to take his son through the bar, but since going through the bar was the only way his stepdaughter, Halsey Blocher, could get to her table, he wasn’t about to let her make the journey alone. Having to drive her motorized wheelchair through a barroom is just one of many hurdles Halsey, 10, faces each time she wants to go out to eat.
When she was a year old, Halsey was diagnosed with spinal muscular atrophy, a motor-neuron disease that falls under the muscular dystrophy category. She has feeling throughout her body but can’t move her muscles properly. Her body also is not able to create more muscle tissue. She can’t walk on her own but can use her arms, although she doesn’t have a lot of strength.
She is like any other girl her age: she loves to read and watch movies, likes American Girl dolls and is really into “Hannah Montana” and “High School Musical.” She also loves to eat out with her family.
Matt, who is general manager at O’Charley’s at Jefferson Pointe, and her mother, Heather, met when both worked at a restaurant together.
“We love to eat out, and eat out all the time,” Heather Rosbrugh said. “Most of the time it is at his work because they know us there and take great care of us.”
The Rosbrughs contacted me about a year ago after a review of one of Halsey’s favorite restaurants, an eatery where dishes are made fresh at a counter by employees in an assembly line of sorts. A note at the end of the column said, “Handicapped accessible: Yes,” and that drew their ire.
It wasn’t that the place didn’t meet the standards set by the Americans with Disabilities Act; it just wasn’t as accessible as they wished it was.
“Halsey can’t see above the counter there to see the food,” Heather Rosbrugh said. “It may seem like a little thing to some, but to a 10-year-old, it is a big deal. Even if they tell her what is up there (on the bar), she doesn’t really know what is up there unless she can see it.”
High counters are just the beginning. Being accessible and being friendly to those with disabilities are two different things. And, unfortunately, the law doesn’t require public dining establishments to be the latter.
“Hey, what a nice dog, can I pet her?” the waiter asks as he approaches Rick Ramsey’s table.
Ramsey provides a simple and somewhat abrupt answer.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Rick Ramsey has used a wheelchair since an automobile crash in November 1987. For the past year, the 48-year-old employee of Turnstone Center for Disabled Children and Adults and a volunteer at Parkview Hospital has been accompanied by Cassidy, a 3-year-old golden Labrador retriever that serves as his working companion dog.
Although he is self-sufficient, Ramsey’s life has been changed for the better since Cassidy joined him.
“She’s a good companion for one thing,” he said, peering down on the floor and smiling at her.
Cassidy also helps him unload laundry, answer the phone and even pay at the counter at certain stores. Almost every week he finds another way to use her. The only downside – and it is a little one – is that she draws attention.
“Everybody’s eyes are on you,” Ramsey said. “They are on you because of the wheelchair to start with, but when you walk in with a dog … .”
Ramsey, a self-described lover of the grill, eats out only about three or four times a month. Once in a while someone will ask to pet Cassidy, but he has faced few major problems when eating out with her.
“I always know which restaurants are the cleanest,” Ramsey said. “If the floor is not good and swept, she will just be sniffing away like crazy.”
“I just love dogs. I had one kind of like her when I was a kid,” the waiter tells Ramsey as he serves him his sodas.
“How old is she?” the waiter continues. “Does she beg?”
Again, Ramsey answers abruptly.
“No. She knows she’s not supposed to.”
Finding a comfortable place to eat, literally, starts at the front door for Ramsey and Halsey, who dined with me at the same restaurant.
“If it looks like we can fit through it, that is where we start,” Heather Rosbrugh said.
Finding wheelchair ramps isn’t usually a problem, but finding good ramps – specifically ones cut into the sidewalk – can be. Some establishments have rather thin one-chair mounds of asphalt for ramps. They work when new but often wear down from cars running over them or parking on them and can sometimes become dangerous.
A few years ago, the front wheel on Halsey’s chair got stuck in a hole in a small ramp, causing her chair to tip forward violently. Although the chair didn’t fall over, the force created against her lap belt broke her leg.
“It was not that big of a rut, but she hit it at the wrong angle,” said Halsey’s father, Doug Blocher of Warsaw, who was with her when it happened. “It was something you wouldn’t even notice otherwise.”
Blocher has noticed a lot of problems with eating out over the years, especially now that Halsey is nearing her teens.
“When I was single, bathrooms were a real challenge,” he said, noting that his wife, Lindsay, often accompanies Halsey when she needs to use one now. “Family restrooms are a big help. I wish more places had them. When we go out now, it is usually some place at the mall because of those restrooms.”
He also mentioned that bathroom doors pose problems. It is easy for Halsey to force a door open with her chair, but it is nearly impossible for her to pull one open and maneuver through the doorway on her own. He wishes for more restaurants with door-free entryways.
Another issue that Blocher, Halsey, Ramsey and the Rosbrughs have encountered is restaurant booths. Tables are always a better option for diners using wheelchairs. Booths often vary in height, and they often have legs near the end that prevent chairs from sliding under them.
Several large chain restaurants, such has Steak ’n’ Shake and McDonald’s, have accessible tables and booths marked with wheelchair symbols. But this trend is anything but an industry standard.
Parking is also a problem. There are so many people with placards in their vehicles that finding a suitable space is challenging enough. For Ramsey, whose van requires a wide space for a side platform, it is even harder. Parking in the outskirts of a lot, where there is a lot of room, is often a better option than using the spaces designated for them.
After making her way through the restaurant bar, Halsey is forced to stop her chair at the top of the ramp leading to her table in the corner. High chairs, booster seats and a broom were blocking the aisle and her chair would not fit through.
After a few minutes of waiting while employees moved the items, Halsey reaches her table. She and Ramsey, however, are unable to take their places until another one is moved because they are so close together.
After everyone is seated, the staff members place the high chairs and other items right back where they were before. They would have to be moved again before Ramsey and Halsey could leave.
So, what places do Ramsey and Halsey find to be the best options in Fort Wayne? Smokey Bones at Jefferson Pointe and, of course, O’Charley’s, head the list.
“The greatest thing I find in each of our favorite places to go is a knowledgeable staff wanting to help us come in and have a great time,” Heather Rosbrugh said.
One of the more difficult places to maneuver in is Applebee’s, especially on a busy night.
Laura Tigges, senior media relations manager for Applebee’s International Inc., offered the following statement: “Applebee’s welcomes all guests to its restaurants, including those with disabilities. We’ll work with the guests to accommodate any special needs they may have.”
Joe Chabus, public relations manager for the Smokey Bones chain, has a vested interest in making sure his company pays attention to the customer with special needs. Chabus has a brother with a disability, and he is a board member of a non-profit group in Orlando, Fla., that helps people with disabilities. To him, it is just good business.
“Our efforts to create an accessible dining environment also help us grow our business because people with disabilities are loyal to businesses that accommodate their unique needs,” Chabus said. “As a company, in the past we’ve invited agencies that help people with disabilities into our restaurants and asked them to review us on our accessibility. They look at table height, the width of space between tables, accessibility in and out of the restaurant and accessibility of the restrooms.”
All Smokey Bones general managers also are required to attend the company’s diversity program, which teaches them how to appropriately interact with people with disabilities. Scott Fritts, general manager of the Smokey Bones in Fort Wayne, attended the Diversity Learning Experience in Detroit a few years ago.
“They basically informed us on the proper etiquette,” Fritts said. “Handicapped people are just like everybody else, and they want to be treated that way. Some people think it is best to leave them alone because they don’t want special treatment, but we try to be polite and courteous, and make sure we ask them if there is anything they need just like we would ask any customer who comes in to our restaurant.”
Even with the training and attention Smokey Bones has put in making its restaurants comfortable, the Fort Wayne location isn’t immune from complaints from time to time.
“We have at least one customer each day that comes in with a wheelchair, probably more,” Fritts said. “We have gotten complaints, but most of them are about our (designated) parking spaces. They are not right in front of the building, they are off to the side, but we put them there because there is more room and less traffic, and the grade (of the ramp) is better over there.”
Before leaving the restaurant, Halsey makes a stop at the restroom.
She cannot open the door because it is impossible for her to reach the handle and position her chair to push the somewhat heavy door open at the same time. She needs her mother to hold it open for her. As she tries to enter, she again has to stop because a wastebasket behind that door is blocking the way.
Her mother, Heather Rosbrugh, holds the door open with her foot as she stretches to slide the wastebasket out of Halsey’s way.
After seeing firsthand the struggles her daughter faces going out to eat, Heather Rosbrugh considers herself an expert on accessibility issues and is constantly scouring the Internet for information. She also isn’t shy about sharing her thoughts on the subject with organizations.
“Apparently I have no trouble speaking my mind,” she said.
The Rosbrughs have shared their concerns with members of Matt’s company, and Matt Rosbrugh does all he can on a local level to make sure his store is accommodating. But representatives of O’Charley’s declined to be interviewed for this article. And they weren’t the only ones.
“Everyone is afraid to talk about it, I guess, because these days they are afraid of facing a lawsuit,” Heather Rosbrugh said. “These ‘don’t talk’ (policies) and fear of lawsuits has created a disconnect with the disabled members of society who need modifications that are completely within reach, many times with little cost, if they were only heard.”
December 23, 2007
By Ryan DuVall, Restaurant critic
source: http://www.journalgazette.net/