AFTER LOADING EVERY PASSENGER BUT US, the driver of the Smithsonian shuttle bus moved the vehicle so the lift could be deployed. He opened the doors in the back, and, with a puzzled look, tried to figure out how to operate the mechanism.

After five minutes he became frustrated and looked to me for help -- as though I'd know what to do by osmosis. My son, never shy, suggested he read the directions.

"Face it, Dad," said my son, "no one except for us cares whether you can get on the bus."

While we read the directions, he called his supervisor as we all tried to figure out how to get the lift to operate.

My son and I are aviation enthusiasts. We have visited the Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum on the Mall many times and never cease to be amazed by the myriad aircraft displayed. I have a sharp preference for civil aviation and performance aircraft; my son Tom is drawn to military aircraft -- especially the SR-71 Blackbird.

When I learned that the Smithsonian had opened a new museum to display and preserve its collection of historic aircraft and space artifacts near Dulles International Airport, I was thrilled. At long last the museum would have the space to adequately display its breathtaking collection (The new museum is huge -- 40 million cubic feet of space, 10 stories high and 300 yards long.). When I learned that one of the center pieces of the new Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center was the SR-71 Blackbird, I knew I had to bring my son.

We eagerly planned a trip for his spring vacation.

Visitors to the Udvar-Hazy Center can drive directly to the museum and pay $12 to park, or take a shuttle bus from the Air and Space Museum on the Mall for $7.

At $7 the bus is a great deal. The trip out to Dulles is about 45 minutes long and traffic in Washington is not only confusing for a visitor but often gridlocked. The weekend we visited, the shuttle buses left the Mall on the hour and returned on the half hour. .Advance tickets were required.

Prior to our visit I had contacted the Smithsonian via email and asked if the shuttle bus was accessible. The first reply came back negative, quickly followed by a second email stating that some buses were accessible. These replies were followed by yet a third email stating all shuttle buses were accessible.

We left our home early Friday morning for a three-day weekend. After a 5-hour drive to our hotel in downtown Washington, we went to the Air and Space Museum on the Mall and spent an enjoyable afternoon. We also reconfirmed that all the shuttle buses were indeed accessible -- and looked forward to our ride to the new museum on Saturday.

I was relieved the next day when we arrived at the bus stop to find that the driver did not look at us as though he were scared. (Those of you in wheelchairs who use buses on a regular basis know the look: "Oh, no! what the hell am I supposed to do?!")

But perhaps he should have been scared. Because, as it turned out, he did not have a clue how to operate the lift.

Another 10 minutes passed without much progress.

At this point we were chilled to the bone and no closer to getting on when a passerby made a suggestion about which buttons to press. The lift began to work. Much relieved, we got on and headed to the museum.

The same mystifying process was repeated upon our arrival and after another delay were able to get on with our day.

On our return to Washington that afternoon, another bus driver struggled to figure out how to use the wheelchair lift. Once again, after 15 minutes,he got it to operate. We were so enthused and impressed with the museum -- despite the bus drivers' lack of knowledge about lift operation -- that we planned to return the next and final full day of our trip.

Sunday morning was even colder than Saturday -- bitterly cold, with temperatures in the low 40s, and 40 mph wind gusts.

We bundled up as best we could and lined up on the Mall to take the first shuttle bus of the day. Once again, all passengers -- except us -- boarded the bus. The bus was moved and the driver attempted to get the lift to operate.

This driver seemed even more mystified by the lift than the first driver.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. It was clear the lift was not going to work. There was no power to the lift. Numerous calls to the supervisor were made. Directions to the lift were read and re-read. Other passengers were consulted and passersby gawked at the unfolding scene.

Finally, I was asked, "Can you walk at all?" When I told the driver that I could not, I was informed there was no legal way to get me on the bus. There was nothing else that could be done -- and there were no other buses available. Another bus might come -- but if it did, it would not be until much later and might not have a lift.

I faced a dilemma: it was bitterly cold outside and the museum would not open for another hour. There was no supervisor, dispatcher or anyone else I could approach for additional information. I knew that once the museum opened the lines to enter would be long; the ones inside even longer; lines would form to get to the observation deck and flight simulators. And I had promised my son he could get on one of the simulators.

What was I to do? I had two choices: assert my equal rights and refuse to get on the bus, or crawl up the front steps.

Had I been without my son I would not have gotten on the bus. Depending upon my mood, I might have also gotten directly in front of the bus and made a concerted effort not to let the bus depart, trying to attract as much attention as humanly possible.

Here comes the proverbial "but": but I was with my son and it was our last chance to see the museum. He and I were freezing -- and it was clear, that, as he put it, "Dad, we're screwed."

Right or wrong, I decided to crawl onto the bus and up the steps to the first seat.

This decision has led to sleepless nights and much second-guessing. What did I teach my son by crawling up the steps of the bus? Did I do the wrong thing? Should I have waited until the museum opened and gone to see the director of transportation?

For better or worse, I got on the bus and our ride to the museum was made largely in silence, an unusual event as my son is a real chatterbox. When we did speak about what happened, we talked about whether I'd done the right thing.

I asked him what he thought. His view was there was no right answer. From his perspective, not getting on the bus would have ruined the day, if not the entire trip. Getting on the bus was equally wrong and blatantly violated of the law.

"Face it, Dad," he concluded, "no one except for us cares whether you can get on the bus." For him, the whole point of the trip was to see the museum -- and, lift or no lift, he wanted to get there.

After thinking about what took place I have concluded that my son's observation that "no one except us cares whether you can get on the bus" is accurate.

The Smithsonian's buses are accessible in name -- they have paid lip service to wheelchair access. The Smithsonian can proudly state that all their buses have lifts

But if the drivers cannot operate them, what use are they?

Our experience with the bus lift was repeated not once or twice but every time we tried to board a Smithsonian shuttle bus to the Steven F. Udar-Hazy Center. In two days we encountered four bus drivers -- and not one of them had a clue how the lift worked. Each driver confessed they had never operated the lift, even though they are supposed to test the lift before the start of their day. Given that the Smithsonian cannot ensure that the lifts work on the Air and Space Museum shuttle buses already in service, I shudder to think of the future. These shuttle buses are very popular and sell out on a regular basis. The Museum is planning on expanding their number -- but are they going to ensure that all the new buses have lifts that work and drivers that know how to use them?

Is the museum going to improve access inside as well? The flight simulators, one of their biggest draws and a source of revenue, are entirely inaccessible at both locations.

I remain torn about my decision to crawl up the steps of the bus. Does the end justify the means? Why does my son believe no one cares about wheelchair access? Has he become jaded at the age of 12, or is he simply correct that no one cares about wheelchair access?

Based upon my experiences traveling over the last few months, and this incident in particular, I have reluctantly concluded he is correct.

It is not just the Smithsonian . Many large institutions and corporations seem concerned only that they have lifts on buses, ramps to the entrance, elevators, accessible bathrooms in order to ensure their facilities meet the letter of the law. But they do not seem to care whether the lifts and elevators operate. I have come to the conclusion that there is a great gulf between the law (that is, what large institutions such as the Smithsonian are required to do) and the reality of wheelchair access.

Revering the totally inaccessible planes it displays, the Smithsonian seems untroubled by lack of access. It pats itself on on the back for having things such as lifts on buses. Yet when one actually tries to use them, one discovers they do not work and the drivers have no idea how to use them. Their flight simulators are not accessible, either -- though one person told me a wheelchair lift was going to be put in "some day."

At no time in my life am I more aware of my disability than when I travel. Time after time after time, I have access problems with air lines, bus and rent-a-car companies, and hotels. All are required by law to provide accessible services but virtually every time I travel I find the lift on the bus broken, the accessible room already occupied, the car with hand controls in another location. All this happens in spite of the fact I reconfirm my reservation 24 hours in advance. Why, after all the confirmations and re-confirmations, do people look stunned when they see me?

Until my encounter at the Smithsonian I was truly puzzled as to why this happens. Was it just me, I wondered. Did I screw things up somehow? Surely, airlines, hotels, museums, and the Smithsonian do not have it in for me!

For over a decade institutions, corporations, schools and museums have been required to comply with the ADA -- one would think making buses and buildings accessible would be the norm by now, rather than the exception. This is not the case, though -- because they have no interest whatsoever in making things truly accessible to disabled people. If they did, not only would money be spent on lifts, but methods would be put in place to ensure they actually work.

I am just one of many whose civil rights are violated on a regular basis.

My experience with the Smithsonian shuttle buses has reinforced my belief that what institutions say and what they do in terms of wheelchair access are two very different things. My son's observation that people "just don't care" is deadly accurate.

Am I the only individual who has lost sleep over the fact that he crawled onto a bus that had a wheelchair lift that was supposed to be fully operational?

I am sure a written report is buried somewhere in the Smithsonian transportation office about what happened. Does this mean that bus drivers will now really check the lifts before they begin their run? I doubt it. Like my son said, "no one cares".

Two questions continue to haunt me: What lesson did I teach my son? And, How can disabled people make others care about our civil rights?

As to the lesson my son learned, I will struggle with that for the foreseeable future . I deeply regret crawling onto the bus.

As to making people care ...

This one has been an ongoing problem in the fight for disability rights. Despite the best efforts of disability rights groups, they have failed to connect with the public at large and with other powerful civil rights groups -- especially African Americans.

Imagine if my experience in Washington had not involved a wheelchair lift but a policy that required black visitors to sit in the back of the bus. Would the other passengers have been silent and expressed no interest? I think not.

And here lies the larger problem: Disability rights groups must find a way to connect with the general public. Discrimination of the sort I encountered IS acceptable to people. The problem I faced is overlooked; it's considered an exception and does not readily fit socially accepted norms in terms of equality. Until such violations are perceived as a civil rights issue, the battle for equal rights will remain an uphill battle.

Posted April, 2004

William J. Peace is a freelance writer. Read his Wishing for Kryptonite

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I would have never resorted to crawling. That would have been a serious blow to my dignity. As with the incident where the man in the wheelchair blocked the bus and would not let them proceed, I would have demanded something to be done.