But for a lot of concert-goers, the exhilaration of the main event is often impeded and overshadowed by the behind-the-scenes logistics. Fans with a range of disabilities are often met with inaccessibility to venues, events, even parking. The Americans With Disabilities Act prohibits discrimination based on disabilities as well as sets forth strict design guidelines for building accessibility, yet concerts still seem to be out of reach.

Live music breathes. It inhales and exhales, it has a heartbeat and is one of a handful of experiences that cannot be recreated. Streams and video recordings of shows do not convey the tangibility of feeling bass through your body or anticipating a beat drop with a surging crowd. Wi-Fi cannot transmit the feeling of being in the diaphragm of a crescendoing chord progression.

To understand how and where venues might be lacking, we have to understand there are two types of accessibility; building accessibility and event accessibility. The ADA Design Standards require ease of access to buildings and an unobstructed path of travel. Much like a home visitability plan, the ADA guidelines ensures safe passage on the first floor of a building and elevators are only required for buildings over 3 stories. So while a building might boast ADA compliance, if the event itself is on a floor with no vertical access, the event is still inaccessible.

The most grave example of event inaccessibility for both survivors of hidden and visible disabilities are GA floor events. For people in wheelchairs, the worries include stage visibility and a safe space to park and enjoy the show. For those like me, with hidden disabilities, GA floor will usually make me skip out on a concert.

I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis in 2003, Lupus in 2012, and a host of other autoimmune system issues, collectively called Mixed Connective Tissue Disorder (which I have interpreted as a medical way of saying “etc.”) The RA keeps me in chronic pain and prolonged standing or walking will inflame my joints, the Lupus keeps me on my toes because if I stress, it will flare, and chronic fatigue syndrome (part of the “etc.”) keeps me in a state of mild weariness. Understanding how each affects my body is how I determine if a concert is feasible.

Questions about building, parking and event staging are always background programs running whenever a fan with disabilities wants to attend a concert. The amount of forethought that goes into these decisions goes beyond the length of the concert, but to what effects it will have on the body and recovery time. In a sense, “Is this worth it?” is a question from the beginning.

For me, the answer this time was an unreserved yes. I made to decision to travel to LA for a concert, fully aware that I might not have the experience I was hoping for.

On an ordinary day, I cannot stand or walk for long distances, but I am in the process of getting my hands and feet reconstructed due to RA deformities and am currently in a walking boot. Usually my disability is hidden; you can’t see pain, swelling, fatigue, migraines, or joint damage, but the boot proved to be an extra nuisance I had to factor in. After checking the venue site, I saw something I had never seen before; “ADA Tickets.” I felt the clouds part and “Baby Shark” started playing smoothly in the background. I wasn’t an afterthought. I wasn’t an “other.” I was taken into consideration.