I See What Most People Miss

I move through a space the way a guest does—so it’s easier to see what holds up, what doesn’t, and where accessibility breaks down in real life.

That’s usually not dramatic. It’s small. A moment where someone has to stop and figure out how to make something work.

It’s a way of seeing shaped by moving through the world in a power wheelchair. I can’t really turn it off. It’s just how I move through a space.

I do this across wineries, tasting rooms, lodging, restaurants, shops, and local attractions throughout the Verde Valley and surrounding communities.

I take on a limited number of in-person evaluations each year (4–6), along with remote reviews.

Heather sitting on her power wheelchair smiling at the camera wearing a teal and black top black skirt and black sandals

What I See (That Often Gets Missed)

Most spaces don’t fail on paper. They fail in use—moment by moment, as someone moves through the experience.

– An “accessible” setup that works on paper, but not in practice once someone tries to use it.
– A space that technically works, but only if someone is willing to ask for help.
– Features that exist, but only in theory and not in a way a guest can actually rely on.
– Designs built for an “average guest”, where anyone outside that assumption becomes an afterthought.
– Moments where feedback was given, acknowledged… and nothing actually changed.

How I Work

I move through a space the way a guest does, paying attention to what most people overlook.

I’m not looking for whether something exists. I’m looking at whether it actually works—whether someone can move through the experience on their own, without having to stop, adjust, or ask for help.

That’s where accessibility shows up.

A lot of what matters isn’t obvious until someone tries to use the space. That’s where I spend my time.

This perspective is grounded in both lived experience and formal training in accessibility and assistive technology.

Ways to Work Together

Remote Review

We meet on Zoom and walk through the space together—step by step, the way a guest would.

That usually starts with parking and entry, then moves through how people are welcomed, how they move through what’s offered, and what happens in the details most people don’t think about—like restrooms, transitions, and flow.

I’ll ask questions as we go, not to check boxes, but to understand how things actually play out.

These sessions run about an hour at minimum, depending on the size of the space.

Afterward, I’ll send a detailed report that lays out what’s working, what isn’t, and where the experience breaks down—along with practical recommendations and specific solutions to improve it.

In-Person Evaluation

I come on site and move through the space from arrival to exit, the same way a guest would.

I’m paying attention to how the experience unfolds—how people enter, move through, interact, and navigate the moments that only become visible when someone is trying to use them.

This isn’t about checking requirements. It’s about seeing where things hold up—and where they quietly fall apart in real use.

Sometimes I’ll ask questions along the way. Sometimes I’ll just observe how things function during normal operations. It depends on what will give the clearest picture.

After the visit, I’ll send a detailed report outlining what’s working, what isn’t, and where friction shows up—along with practical recommendations and specific solutions to improve the experience.

In-person evaluations are limited each year so the work stays grounded in real use.

Why This Matters

In places that rely on tourism, the experience is everything.

When something doesn’t work, it’s rarely obvious. It’s a pause. A moment of hesitation. A decision about whether to ask for help—or not.

Those moments are easy to miss.

They’re also what people remember. It’s what they talk about on the drive home. Whether they come back. Whether they bring friends and family with them next time.

There’s a significant amount of travel spending driven by people with disabilities in the U.S.—tens of billions each year. And when you include the people who travel with them, that number grows quickly.

But it doesn’t show up all at once. It shows up in decisions. Where to go. Where to return. What to recommend.

And most of those decisions are shaped in small moments that either hold—or quietly fall apart.

See What I See

These are the kinds of moments most people don’t notice—until they affect the experience.

THE COST OF ALMOST ACCESSIBLE

I’ve been paying attention to something for a long time now. It fits inside my larger mantra of “seeing the unseen,” but this one has a sharper edge. It has to do with systems that are almost accessible.

What I’ve noticed is that exclusion rarely arrives dramatically. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t declare itself as bias or hostility. More often, it arrives wrapped in good intentions and polite language...

read the rest of the article

Start a Conversation

If you’re curious what this would look like in a real space, we can start with a simple conversation.

Heather on the lift for an accessible bus

Making Waves for Good

Based in Arizona wine country, working across the Verde Valley and surrounding communities.

[email protected]

+1 602-962-2042

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