Damn Amanda

Putting In the Work: Because Spontaneity Takes Planning — Part One

The Vacation Before the Vacation

There is a particular kind of insanity involved in planning a trip when you travel with a disability.

It usually begins innocently enough.

You find a beautiful little hotel. Historic building. Fabulous location. Gorgeous rooms. Reasonable price. And there it is, that magical little phrase: Accessible rooms available.

Wonderful!

Except the elevator is five steps up.

Five.

Steps.

To the elevator.

And suddenly you’re fourteen emails deep into what should have been a two-minute hotel reservation.

Welcome to the vacation before the vacation.

The part you don’t see in the photographs. The research, the questions, the occasional profanity, and the extraordinary amount of detective work required before you ever set foot in an airport.

And here’s the thing: I don’t need everything to be easy. I just need to know what I’m getting into.

What works for me may not work for someone traveling with a cane, a rollator, forearm crutches, or a disability you can’t see. “Accessible” isn’t one-size-fits-all, and the word on a booking website can’t tell me what I actually need to know.

Some of the best places I’ve found weren’t on a perfectly curated list of accessible destinations. They came from conversations. Like the campground in the photo above. A local told me it had been improved for accessibility because he had helped redo it himself. That was information I could use—and a place I might never have discovered otherwise.

That’s the other side of all this homework. It’s not just about avoiding a disastrous hotel entrance. It’s about creating more room for the unexpected: a recommendation from someone who lives there, a detour worth taking, a chance to say yes.

And no, I’m not looking to shame every hotel or tour operator that gets a sentence wrong. I want clear answers, people who are willing to figure things out, and the freedom to decide what works for me.

I put in the work because I want to be spontaneous. Ridiculous? Maybe. Effective? Often enough to keep me going.

Same adventure. Different rabbit hole.

Down the next rabbit hole: The Fine Print Nobody Thought to Mention. Five steps, one elevator, and why “accessible” is not a complete sentence.

Until then, keep saying yes. We’ll figure out how.