Part of the huge Swedish Hospital complex on Seattle's Cherry Hill has a very nice ramp (easy slope, handrail with which you can pull yourself along if you wish) up to the double doors. The double doors themselves have handles, but they are sufficiently heavy to be difficult for someone in a wheelchair. However, on the wall to the right of the doors is a large (3" in diameter) button that you push, and it opens the doors and, theoretically, you can roll through them unimpeded.

Small glitch in the system. The button is about eight feet from the doors, which swing outward. One of the doors partially blocks your path, making it difficult to position yourself to go through the doors. By the time you negotiated the tight space between the edge of the door and the aforementioned handrail, the doors are already swinging shut again.

Jack, be nimble, Jack be quick!
Jack, jump over the candlesti—(CRUNCH!!)

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Another goody, not related to matters of disability, but yet another example of not really thinking something through.

Or, perhaps, a warped sense of humor?

At Seattle's Cornish College of the Arts, which I attended for two years in the early 1960s, each of the music classrooms was equipped with a phonograph, consisting of a turntable set in a wooden cabinet that stood about three feet tall and connected to some very good wall-mounted speakers. The operating instructions were pasted under the lid.

The first instruction was "Lift lid." (You're kidding, right?)

The second instruction read, "Turn on power switch." (Okay.)

The third instruction said (and I love this!), "Check to see that unit is plugged in."

If you're slapping your forehead at things like this, just remember:   some people are getting paid good money to figure out these systems!

Don Firth