Concert tickets might sound like a small thing, but for Dan and me, they’re not. Live music is one of our favorite ways to feel connected, normal, and joyful beyond the daily realities of living with Multiple Sclerosis.
A couple of weeks ago, I tried to buy tickets to see O.A.R. (among our favorite rock bands) at Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park in Grand Rapids. We were so excited! The venue was close enough to make the trip manageable, and since we’d never been there before, it felt like the kind of experience worth planning for.
But when I asked about accessible seating, I was told I had to wait until the official public on-sale date.
Not ideal, but okay. I followed the rules.
Tickets went on sale at 9 a.m. Dan called the box office at 9:11.
Eleven minutes after tickets went on sale, every truly accessible seat was gone.
None left.
In a venue that holds 1,900 people.
To be clear: there were still a few so-called “accessible” options, but they weren’t genuinely accessible for me as a power wheelchair user. Pavilion seating would require me to transfer from my wheelchair, which I can no longer do. Lawn seating meant navigating uneven terrain and competing for space in ways that felt more like survival than inclusion.
That’s not meaningful wheelchair accessibility.
And that’s what’s so frustrating.
Accessible seating is supposed to remove barriers for people with disabilities—not create new ones through systems that effectively shut us out before we even have a fair chance.
I did what I was told. I waited. I followed the process.
The process failed.
This is what disability access often looks like: not always blatant exclusion, but policies and procedures that sound reasonable on paper while producing inequitable outcomes in real life.
Living with MS already means thinking ahead about mobility, energy, transportation, and logistics. Something as simple as attending a concert requires strategy. So when even buying accessible concert tickets becomes another obstacle, it’s more than inconvenient.
It’s exhausting and discouraging.
Because accessibility shouldn’t depend on luck, speed, or whether the system was designed with your real-life needs in mind.
It should mean equal opportunity from the very beginning.
This experience isn’t just about one O.A.R. concert. It reflects a broader pattern many disabled people know too well: being told to wait, trust the process, and follow the rules, only to discover the system was never truly built for you in the first place.
I don’t believe anyone intended to exclude me.
But intent alone doesn’t create access.
Action does.
And until accessible seating truly prioritizes equitable access for the people it was created for, too many of us will keep finding ourselves left out before the music even starts.
That’s so frustrating
Thanks for checking in, Amy! We so appreciate your understanding.
I feel your pain
It is unfortunate that you feel my pain, Hazel. I am so sorry that you also have had to deal with frustrations and discriminations like this. I’m hopeful that ticketing practices will get better. Sharing our stories bring attention to the issue. Best of all to you, Jennifer
Unfortunately accessibility is often a perception of the provider, not the reality of the user!
Been there, done that way too often in my 50 year MS journey!
Please check out my Substack with that title.
Thank you for sharing your experience, and your Substack, Thomas. You are right about perception too. And sadly, you really don’t know about accessibility, until you know. But it shouldn’t require that. Know what I mean? Thanks again for your comment, Jennifer
I am sorry you had such a bad experience when attempting to purchase concert tickets. I had a bad experience 2x when going to the restroom at the chain restaurant “Chili’s “ There was one handicapped stall out of four, but it was locked with a sign that said out of ordet. I was using a cane , so I was able to navigate a regular stall with great difficulty. We went to this restaurant again about a month later and the exact same scenario with the restroom happened again. When I arrived home, I called the restaurant and spoke to the manager who gave me some lame excuse that people are always making a mess in there; so they keep it closed.We won’t be going back there again!
Likewise, I am sorry to read about your bad experience, Deborah!! What an epic fail and awful excuse. Disabled people deserve dignity, respect, and access when it comes to using a restroom. I’m sure you are better off finding another restaurant. All the best to you, Jennifer
Well done! Encapsulating my concert frustration into one article has been impossible for me, so thank you!
Thank you, Kristen! I appreciate your support of my words!! This means a lot to me, and I am equally frustrated to read that you also are dealing with this.
When will the able bodied community realize they are one incident away from being one of us? Not a threat or a warning, but more of us request to be included. Plus, we spend our money too!!
You nailed it. I remember the hoops I had to go through to land those Springsteen tickets at LCA. It was terrible dealing with Ticketmaster. In another case, Meadow Brook Theatre is a lovely outdoor venue, but none of the handicapped seating is covered. Ann and I went there for a Stephen Stills/Judy Collins concert and when it started pouring rain right about the start, we got soaked and had to leave after about two songs. Those are just a few examples. Hooray for the venues that do get it right. – Ray
Absolutely, Ray. Hooray for those venues that get accessibility right, like LCA (side note: that Springsteen concert experience was one of Dan and my best. Top notch!!), and let’s educate the venues that don’t. While we shouldn’t need to in 2026, we are advocates and want EVERYONE to enjoy the thrill of live music. Best to you and Ann. – Jennifer