One of the biggest questions I get asked is this:
Can you really do general admission with a mobility scooter?
Short answer: yes, you absolutely can.
Longer answer: you just have to do it smart.
After multiple GA experiences, including at massive venues like the Sphere, I can say with confidence that mobility scooter users absolutely belong on the floor. You just need the right timing, the right mindset, and a little bit of strategy.
The Night I Almost Talked Myself Out of Going
The first time I ever considered doing general admission with my mobility scooter was at a Backstreet Boys show in California during their DNA tour. I remember staring at the ticket screen, my finger hovering over the buy button, completely torn. I was afraid I would not be allowed close to the stage. I worried I would be a burden to the people around me. I feared drawing attention in a way I did not ask for.
But the truth was, the ADA section at that venue was terrible. Far away. Isolated. Nowhere near the energy I wanted to feel. So I made a decision in that moment. If I was already uncomfortable, I might as well take a chance on something that could actually be amazing.
My First GA Win Changed Everything
That night became my first real GA experience on a mobility scooter, and it changed everything. Not only did I get in without issue, we ended up right in the front row. It is still one of my favorite concert experiences ever. What surprised me most was not just how close I was to the stage, but how kind people were. Most of the crowd around me was incredibly understanding, and instead of feeling like I had to shrink myself to belong, I finally felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
How I Make General Admission Work
Since then, I have learned that how you show up in GA makes a difference. I always arrive early so I can use the ADA line and get settled before the crowd rushes in. That extra time allows me to position myself along the barricade or on the side of the stage, which has turned out to be the perfect spot. Clear sightlines. Room to breathe. A real sense of safety.
Every time I do this, I am reminded that accessibility does not mean staying on the sidelines. It means being part of the experience.
The Power of Breaking the Ice
One thing that continues to surprise me in the best way is how much simply talking to the people around me helps. I usually introduce myself and say something light like, “Hey, just so you know, I’m using a mobility scooter, but I promise I won’t be running over any toes.” It sounds small, but breaking the ice changes everything. Instead of confusion or awkwardness, there is understanding. Instead of distance, there is kindness.
When Kindness Changes the Whole Experience
At a recent show at the Sphere in Las Vegas, the girl next to me went out of her way to make sure I was comfortable. She kept checking in, letting me know I was good, and even told me something that hit me harder than she probably realized. She said I was no burden to her or her friends and that they were glad I was there.
In that moment, I did not feel different. I did not feel in the way. I felt included, and moments like that stay with you far longer than any encore ever could.
The Freedom I Feel Once the Music Starts
People assume walking into a packed venue on a mobility scooter must feel overwhelming, and sometimes there is that split second where you feel the noise, notice the looks, and wonder if you belong. But for me, something else happens. The second the music starts, I feel free. I get lost in the show. I stop thinking about logistics and start feeling like everyone else in the room.
That freedom is the whole reason I keep doing this.
When Access Is Done Right
There have been nights when access worked exactly right. Jingle Ball in Tampa was one of those experiences where everything clicked. The staff was accommodating, the crowd was respectful, and Amalie Arena turned out to be one of the most ADA friendly venues I have ever been to.
That night restored so much confidence for me because it showed what is possible when venues actually care about inclusion.
When It Does Not Go Perfectly
Of course, not every experience has been smooth. I have dealt with staff who made things harder than they needed to be and fans who tried to push me out of the way. I have been in spaces with zero accommodations and zero understanding.
I want to be clear about something though. I do not want special treatment. I just want equal access.
Those tougher nights taught me how to advocate for myself better, how to speak up sooner, and how to stop apologizing for taking up space.
My “I Deserve to Be Here” Moment
My shows at the Sphere in Las Vegas during the Backstreet Boys residency finally gave me that full “I deserve to be here” moment. Night after night, I stood on the GA floor with no issues, no awkwardness, and no feeling like I had to justify my presence.
Something shifted inside me. I stopped asking for permission in my own head and started believing what I had been telling others for years.
What People Never See Behind the Scenes
What most people never see is everything that happens before the show even starts. The hours spent researching venues. Watching videos to see if anyone else has been there with a wheelchair or mobility device. Studying photos of layouts. Zooming in on venue maps. Reading reviews and examining every detail ahead of time.
It takes energy. It takes planning. It takes emotional labor. But I do it every time because the joy on the other side is worth it.
The Moment That Makes It All Worth It
There is always a moment during every show when I forget about all of it. The planning. The stress. The strategy. It usually happens when the lights go down and the first song hits.
In that moment, I am not thinking about access. I am thinking about the music, the memories, and why I came in the first place. That is why access matters. Not so we can simply enter a space, but so we can fully live inside it.
My Final Take on GA With a Mobility Scooter
So yes, you can do general admission with a mobility scooter. Yes, you can have an amazing view. Yes, you can feel included instead of sidelined.
Arrive early. Be open with the people around you. Trust that you belong there.
If I could say one thing to the version of myself who almost did not buy that first GA ticket, it would be this.
You deserve to be there. Let go and enjoy the moment.
Because access is not about staying on the sidelines.
Access is about being in the room where the music is happening.
If you’re interested in learning more about my personal story and journey, I share it in
My Invisible Disability Story | Choosing Life Beyond Limits
Follow me on social media:
