What Mexico Taught Me About the ADA

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At age 14, I became a complete C-6 quad, without the ability to transfer. Typical story: shallow water, drowning, resuscitation, three months of rehab, then shipped back home.

Of course, depression followed. Mine lasted nearly three years. I simply couldn’t see any reason to be happy. Little did I know a one-month trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico––four years after my injury––would help me see something other than self-pity, and that was gratefulness.

My family decided to take us four kids on a month-long vacation to Mexico around Christmas 1997. I was in full-swing, post-high school rehab at the time, in a program to learn independent living skills. I was, needless to say, overwhelmingly excited to leave medical rehab behind and delve into a completely new experience. I was sick of everything related to being disabled. This trip to Mexico was a long time coming, even though I was fully aware––in theory––that our destination wasn’t going to be wheelchair-friendly.

We flew to Puerto Vallarta via Mexicana Airlines. So far, so good. It seemed like any other airline experience within the US. The realization of what, exactly, I was getting into, however, dawned on me once we landed: There was no ramp from the plane to the airport. I had to be carried by two Mexicans down the stairs then pushed nearly a quarter of a mile off the tarmac through the back entry of the airport, in order to go through Customs.