So I'm setting off on my wheelchair simulation, and let me tell you, this was not my idea. Or at least, it was not my idea to have me be the one doing it. I am not the most athletic person out there. I look like I'm sort of in shape, but because of a mild disability myself, I haven't taken gym since fourth grade, and I've pretty much made it my game plan to avoid almost all forms of exercise as much as possible. Physically speaking, in five words or less, I am a lazy son of a gun. So I knew this would be a challenge. It was certainly not one of the world's greatest ideas, and in my mind, headed more toward the direction of the Darwin Awards.

11 a.m.: I walk ed to the Student Publications Building and head upstairs, where I basically begged and pleaded for someone to accompany me to the Frieze Building. Eventually, Staff Reporter Ashley Dinges agreed to walk me to class. There is a ramp outside of the building, and I made it down and stopped, no problem. It was a good start, but then things got complicated.

Among the advice RC freshman Sarah Watkins, who has cerebral palsy and is a 24/7 wheelchair user, gave me was "don't have people push you around unless it really becomes an issue." Sorry, Sarah. That advice was broken in about five minutes.

Oh, the sidewalk. Enemy No. 1. I should have been prepared for you. Really, I should have seen the way you tilt off to the road. I should have known that every time I tried to push myself forward, you would steer me toward traffic. I should have known potholes are really more like animal traps, and that my wheels would get stuck on them, and that they would sometimes cause my wheels to unintentionally come up off the ground, leaving me helpless. Sarah had even hinted at the problems sidewalks cause her. "I don't like to walk around at night so much ... some of the sidewalks are so bad, and if I don't see the potholes ..." she had said, her voice trailing off, giving the impression of great danger. (Note from Operations and Facilities spokeswoman Diane Brown: "If students encounter a sidewalk that they perceive to be a University sidewalk in need of repairs, they should report that to ... 647-2059," Brown said. "We're very interested in knowing where additional accommodations should be made and it takes people making those reports sometimes for us to be aware of a need.")

On the way to the Frieze, Ashley said she felt bad because she thought others would think we were mocking the handicapped. This is one reason why wheelchair simulations are such a heated topic among the handicapped community - because it makes them look like they need more help than they actually do. "When you just stick someone in a chair and they've never been in a chair before, they don't have any coping strategies," said Sam Goodin, director and coordinator of services for students with mobility impairments at the Office of Services for Students With Disabilities. "They make it seem like a more formidable problem than it really is. ... If you put me in a chair right now and you tell me I have to go to (somewhere), I'm going to be totally wiped out by the time I get there," he said. (Tell me about it.) "But if I'm a paraplegic and I've been in a chair, I'm probably going to beat most people who can walk." Going down the sidewalk by myself in a wheelchair, most turtles could have beaten me to the Frieze. In fact, they probably could have doubled back and made the trip twice.

1 p.m.: My first class was over, and I was outside again. I managed to make it up one of the building's tiny ramps (a ramp I had enjoyed going down) and outdoors by myself. It was a proud moment. But sitting at the curb, staring off into the construction that awaited me near the Modern Languages Building - well, if I could have used all my mental energies to magically transport me to Angell Hall, I would have. Instead, I took it one thing at a time. My next class was at 3, so I had two hours. I had to be able to make it two blocks in two hours, right? I got as far as the end of the MLB (I made it over the curb by myself!) before I stopped to study the terrain. There were wooden splices all over the place, potholes, cars, curbs - scary stuff. So I sucked it up and called for Ashley again, keeping in mind that disabled people are able to do anything abled people can do; they just need help sometimes. Ashley helped push me down the street to the Diag, where sidewalks are much more friendly. A guy standing in Angell Hall saw me and pushed the handicap entrance buttons, which was not really needed, but much appreciated anyway.