It is quite ironic that a play that is essentially about the
idea of hope should be the very same play that kills 'my hope' of seeing it on
stage.
Like most people who have heard endlessly about 'Warhorse',
I wanted to go and see it with a friend; and when's a better time to go than
during the holiday season, when my friend will be off from work and we will
have more of a chance of getting tickets... how wrong was I?!
I phoned the number that is on Warhorse's website to book
tickets, ideally I would love to book online as most people with internet
access do, but I know being a wheelchair user I have to double check that the
theatre is accessible, whether there are no small steps and that the space
allocated for wheelchair users is actually a space big enough to accommodate
electric wheelchairs. In fact I would have to repeat these questions several
time to ensure there is no disappointment on the day, but that is a blog for
another day.
Back to Warhorse. As the ticket office assistant answered
the phone I explained I need to book 2 tickets one for a wheelchair user. I was
told because I need a wheelchair space, I would have to call the actual venue of
the play. I got the number and phoned, only to be told that the actual venue is
where the play first started and not its current location. By this point, my
tolerance level had started to drop; but I thought, 'it is ok nothing comes
easy', and one must suffer to fully appreciate the joy. Yes, I was deluding
myself.
I called the National Theatre where Warhorse was first
performed, and after I gave the dates and number of tickets, I started to
explain that I need a wheelchair space only to be stopped and told... Yes... of
course, I have to call yet another number!!
I really could not grasp why a single venue should have
different number and locations for booking a wheelchair space, so I voiced my
view and explained that I spent nearly 2 hours on the phone calling 3 different
numbers only to be told the same thing, 'I need to call another line', like a
silly game of pass the parcel, with only slight difference-there is no fun
involved in calling various phone numbers to book tickets. The reply I got is
not even worth quoting, just a simple almost robotic programmed line of
"sorry that is the only access telephone for wheelchair users".
Again, I am baffled as to why people with disability must
call a specially designated phone number. Isn't that a form of segregation? And
why make the process so hard and complicated? You can imagine my joy after all this time and after finally
having the right number, I get an automated message informing me that the
access line is only open for a limited number of hours on some days of the
week!!! Frustrated, angry and annoyed I did not want to give up. Not for the
deep desire to see the play, as by that stage I had lost complete interest in
seeing Warhorse, but I just did not want to be beaten by a system that is
beyond logic. I called again the next day-no answer. The day after the
phone lines were busy, then finally someone answered but by then Warhorse was
booked out; well, wheelchair spaces were at least, and not really surprised as
there are only 2 or 3 spaces available.
So I was beaten by this 'illogical system'. Despite my
efforts, tolerance and persistence, I was no match for the discrimination, ill
thinking, narrow minded attitude of a messed up system. How is it possible that
in a 2013, the 'age of now' and 'instant everything', calling 5 different
numbers just to find such a simplistic answer should be shameful. Especially in
London.
I want to end this blog with an interesting yet ironic
thought 'Warhorse' which is a tale of dignity offered to an animal in 1914, is
not offered to people living with disability in 2013.
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