After three consecutive 29th anniversaries, today marks the 32nd anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act. “It’s wine o’clock somewhere,” it told us as it trickled drops of rosé-flavored Franzia onto its newly wrinkled pages.
While living as a thirty-something can be an exciting time for many, the Americans with Disabilities Act feels otherwise. Sporting a stylish pixie cut and sitting on a new motorcycle, ADA seems to be undergoing a bit of an identity crisis. It explained, “Everyone calls me ADA, and I’m like, is that even who I am? Am I an ‘initials for a nickname’ kinda person?”
As of late, American corporations have been trying to skirt around ADA or, even worse, ignoring it altogether, and ADA told us it was feeling the neglect: “It seemed like just yesterday I was new and cool, and people were proud of me. But now? I feel like I’m not valued anymore, like I’m just a clunky speed bump on some rich guy’s path to profit.”
This disrespect has caused ADA to spiral into a crisis and feel extremely defensive about its age. “My pages aren’t wrinkled, they’re creased! It’s different!” it told us as it quickly began googling where to get a little lamination work done. We kept telling it that its thirties were nothing to be embarrassed about and that, according to studies, it hasn’t even reached its sexual prime yet.
Still, no words can convince ADA that it isn’t on the verge of being replaced by a newer, younger piece of legislation. “You saw what they did to Roe,” it said, “and she was 49! She wasn’t even old enough to retire yet! Could they do that to me soon? I don’t know.”
We told ADA we do not know if that could happen, because, while it technically is law, everything is made up and the rules don’t matter. Our attempts to comfort ADA about our collective sense of uncertainty seemed to help a bit, and ADA finished our interview with a more positive remark: “There’s one thing that is certain, and it’s that, while I’m still 32 and a flirty boo, I’m going to be proud of who I am.”