My heart races as I make my way down Mill Avenue to the Library Bar and Grill. I come upon the neon Library sign and stare with uncertainty.
I'm 22, but the bar scene is virgin territory. Because of my wheelchair, I am hesitant to be around large crowds in small spaces. While my 300-pound wheelchair is great at clearing a path through crowded streets, it's less helpful when you're running over waitress' toes.
The bouncer, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, holds open the door for me as I enter the bar. I pull up to a table next to the bar and look at the scenery. A shelf full of antique books stands near the far wall and beams of red strobe lights shine across my blue-striped collared shirt.
The bar is relatively empty for the first hour, but I expect it to pick up since it is ladies' night and, at 9 p.m., it is still early. I take a drink of Pepsi, I'm still getting used to sitting in a crowded room, and adding an alcohol to my nervous stomach won't help the situation.
I watch the men at the bar talking to the female bartender and think about how much fun it would be to sit next to them.
But there was a small problem. No, wait, there was a 300-pound problem.
My wheelchair doesn't exactly fit at the bar. I slowly drive up to the bar and don't like what I see, or actually, what I can't see. My eyes line up perfectly with the edge of the bar.
The bartender has long, blonde hair and is wearing a brown dress shirt tied in a knot at her stomach. "What can I get you?" she asks with a smile. I can't believe she sees me, let alone is talking to me. "I already have a drink, thanks," I say as I try and peer over the edge of the bar.
I sit next to the men and watch them converse with the bartender with ease. I imagine lively conversations between the bartender and the top of my head. Before the situation gets any more awkward, I roll back to the table.
The sign outside the Library reads, "Join us every Thursday for ladies' night and tons of dancing." The music is blaring, the disco light is turning and the dance floor is ready for business. But one vital ingredient for ladies' night is missing: the ladies.
Don't get me wrong, I think the crowd of middle-aged men looks very handsome in their tucked-in dress shirts and jean shorts, but I want to mingle with the ladies.
After a few more drinks, I decide to head home. It wasn't the most exciting night, but now I know that going to bars isn't impossible, and I'll try it again.
Maybe next time I'll go on guys' night.
Reach the reporter at gabriel.trujillo@asu.edu.
