A Nightmare at the "Wheelchair Accessible" Haunted House

Tonight’s attempt to enjoy a "wheelchair accessible" haunted house turned into a nightmare, and I feel compelled to share the experience to raise awareness about the struggles families face when trying to access events that promise inclusivity but fall short.

We had high hopes for the haunted house. It was marketed as wheelchair accessible, so we thought it would be the perfect Halloween adventure for Abe. Unfortunately, the reality was far from what was promised. First, when we arrived, we were parked in a field—far from the accessible spots. The parking attendants "forgot" about those spots and filled them with able-bodied guests. After paying $82 for tickets, we were already frustrated, but we pushed forward.

Once we got inside, the terrain was impossible to navigate. There was loose mulch, loose gravel, and steep hills everywhere. It was incredibly difficult for Abe to make it through, and he had to take several breaks to sit down. At one point, I had to pull him backwards through the area while he was terrified his chair might tip over. We asked for an exit and were told we were "halfway through." There was no exit, no way to get out easily. We were stuck.

To make matters worse, when we finally made it to the end, a staff member casually asked how our experience was. When I shared how hard it had been for Abe, they replied, "Well, a gentleman made it through just fine in a power chair," and mentioned that other people had made it through in "off-road wheelchairs." This response stung more than anything. It was insulting. My son, who has a severe intellectual disability, will never qualify for a power chair, nor does insurance cover the cost of "off-road wheelchairs." <--the wheelchair in that link would be a DREAM!

The whole experience was incredibly disheartening. It broke my heart to see Abe so scared and exhausted after a night that was supposed to be fun for him. We left feeling defeated, and I couldn't hold back the tears. It just isn't fair. We trusted that this event would be accessible for Abe, and instead, it turned into a physical and emotional struggle for him.

I did reach out to the organizers, requesting a refund and asking that they stop marketing the event as "accessible" for all kids, because it clearly isn’t. I’m happy to report they did refund our $82.

This experience has been exhausting, and I’m sharing this story not just for us, but for all families who deserve truly accessible experiences. We can’t keep settling for promises that aren’t kept. I hope this serves as a reminder to event organizers that accessibility is not a marketing tool—it’s a necessity, and it should be taken seriously.