My name is Tanya, and over the weekend of April 5th, I had plans to attend the Texas Eclipse Festival in Burnet, Texas. My husband and I have been planning this since December and have put considerable effort into locking down all the logistics within our control. Unfortunately, despite four solid hours of trying, we never even made it inside the festival.
I’ve attended large-scale, multi-day festivals in the EDM space for over a decade across the United States. I am physically disabled and use mobility aids when attending these types of events. I’ve been using mobility aids at events for four years now. I even make content about being a disabled raver under the handle @Audiotism_Tanya, where I share my experiences at different festivals and events. I have had many positive and negative experiences as a disabled raver. I’m happy to say that until this past weekend, there were very few negatives to be cited.
Before I share details about my specific experience, I want to acknowledge that many attendees had an excellent time this past weekend. That’s amazing, and I am very happy this was the case for many people! I want to be clear that I am here to be a voice for the disabled community in attendance. Sharing our experiences doesn’t take anything away from all the beautiful memories others were able to create.
As a disabled person, I’m used to over-preparing for any experience outside my home. I’m also used to modified experiences being what is available to disabled people and never having the expectation of endless access across an event. Pairing that with a decade-plus of festival experience, I felt excitement and confidence heading into Texas Eclipse. Sadly, that excitement was quickly extinguished upon arriving at the festival site.
Arriving Texas Eclipse Festival
With clear signage lacking everywhere, we found ourselves in the car camping entry queue. This was only after driving through sketchy terrain, including a steep uphill many vehicles struggled to make. The chaos and disorganization of car camping entry were something I’ve never experienced. We had to explain our situation repeatedly as every security and staff member gave us the same answer: “I don’t know how you’ll get out of here, and I also don’t know where you’re supposed to park.”
Finally, after an hour and a half of trying to resolve our issue, we were directed out of the queue and given vague guidance on accessing day parking. We were eventually told to drive under the yellow security tape used as a fence.
Once we navigated our way out of the car camping entry, our next hurdle was finding ADA parking. Again, we were met with staff and security who had no information about ADA accommodations or could not point us in the right direction to find information. At this point, the frustration was beginning to grow within me. I’m used to facing a hurdle or two, but this experience was growing beyond a “typical” ADA experience.
The next leg of our journey to the festival entrance left me alone in the car while my husband hiked to the box office to get any information or substantial guidance. While I am insanely thankful to have my husband help me navigate experiences like these, I couldn’t help but feel empathy for disabled individuals who don’t have a partner willing to go to the ends of the earth to guarantee their access to an event.
My husband returned with a parking pass (that you couldn’t buy online), and the disappointing news was that there was no ADA parking, and our only solution for entry was calling a shuttle to transport us. At this point, we were starting to feel beaten down. All we could do was wait…
While waiting at the box office to be shuttled to the festival entrance, we tried to get some kind of ETA and were met with a whole team of “staff” actively avoiding my eyes to NOT engage with me. This was an insanely dehumanizing experience. Sitting in the sun and dust, we realized all we could do was wait and see if a shuttle ever came.
It was at this point an unsung hero stepped in. Staff member “Go-Go” approached us and asked if he could help us. After catching him up with everything thus far, he gave us the bittersweet news that there is indeed ADA parking, but he doesn’t know where it is. He immediately hopped on the radio and called for a shuttle. Initially, we were told it would be about 45 minutes until a shuttle could reach us. This is where we started to drift from being frustrated and beaten down to being angry and feeling “less than” an able-bodied attendee in the eyes of the festival producers.
The festival gods briefly shinned down on us, and an ADA Shuttle pulled up right then. An ADA staff member, Art, showed up with the brightest smile and an evident willingness and commitment to supporting disabled attendees. After getting myself and my wheelchair safely locked into the van, we started our commute to the festival entrance… or so we thought. During our ride, we were informed that the van we were currently in would not be able to handle the drive to the accessible festival entrance and could only take us as far as the ADA campsite. Though frustrated to learn we still had more to this entry journey, we had a small glimmer of hope that we were heading in the right direction.
This glimmer was quickly extinguished upon arriving at the ADA campsite. Here, we were put on a waitlist for a shuttle to take us to the other side of the festival because the entrance closest to the camp was the LEAST accessible. This is where I started to lose hope that we would be able to enjoy the festival as ADA patrons. The onsite ADA team was phenomenal and transparent about what to expect once we entered the festival. A few highlights include the ADA viewing platforms not yet built; their golf cart shuttles not having access to the festival grounds, and the intense terrain that able-bodied attendees struggled to navigate.
Disabled people are resilient and accustomed to alternative processes, typically with added steps and waiting. Disabled people have to give up aspects of autonomy and dignity to engage in the world around them in a legitimate manner. I showed up prepared to have an adapted experience and not be able to utilize all the amenities able-bodied attendees can. We even opted to book a hotel for the weekend as my particular disabilities don’t lend themselves well to a camping experience, no matter how adapted. I knew an adapted onsite experience wasn’t the right fit for me, so we made alternative accommodations.
Choosing to Leave Texas Eclipse Festival
As we were nearing four solid hours of trying to enter the festival, we realized the potential experience ahead of us was not safe nor worth the continued uphill battle to access the festival grounds. It was a harsh realization that should I have a medical emergency, the further I got into the festival, the less likely it would be to find any semblance of medical support. We decided to leave the festival site out of self-preservation and in the interest of our general well-being. When updating the ADA team that we needed a shuttle back to our car rather than the festival entrance, they responded with relief and sadness. I could tell they were happy to see one less patron in an unsafe situation but just as disappointed the festival was inaccessible for many community members.
Though we chose to remove ourselves from the situation, we still had one more transportation hurdle to clear. Unfortunately, the van that initially brought us to ADA camp was no longer available. The only option would be a golf cart, collapsing my wheelchair and using bungee cords to secure it to the back. While the ADA team did their best to secure my chair with their limited supplies, it was a nerve-wracking and bumpy ride back to our car, with my husband’s death grip acting as the final means of strapping in my wheelchair.
Arriving back at our car with nothing to show but frustration and crushed excitement, we packed up and returned to our hotel an hour away. To say I was disappointed in the reality of on-site ADA accommodations compared to what was advertised on the website is a gross understatement. I don’t often use significant adjectives like “negligent” and “unjust,” but both descriptions accurately describe my personal experience at the Texas Eclipse Festival.
Being almost a week removed from this experience has allowed me to consider exactly how I feel about everything. There is, of course, the anger and frustration that comes from being overlooked and marginalized as a community. But I’ve found myself stuck on the disrespect shown to the dance floor. Many of us attendees, disabled or not, view the dance floor as a sacred space. To create hurdle after hurdle that leads to excluding entire communities is something I can’t stand for. The dance floor is for everybody, regardless of physical or mental capacity.
For more details regarding the overall ADA experience onsite, check out this article, which provides information regarding ADA website descriptions and onsite realities.
