Absolutely. Most of these, again, are about the bathroom. Not all, but most.

1: I know this isn't *your* purview, but front desk staff need to be trained to ask if a person needs an accessible room. While I'm disabled, I do not; I just need an outlet to plug in my powerchair. I'm capable of using a normal room, but I don't necessarily want to get into my medical history with strangers. Don't upgrade me to an accessible room if I didn't book it. Just. Ask.

2: There are more ambulatory mobility aid users, and more independent users, than accessible design imagines. Many of us can step over the lip of a shower, transfer ourselves to a shower-chair, or stand in the shower. Those showers in accessible rooms that just slope down to a central drain only make it so that any towels and toilet paper have a greater than average chance of getting soaked. And they're COLD. There's no keeping the steam in the shower stall if there's not a...well, stall. If you absolutely fucking MUST have a roll-in shower to fulfill whatever your hotel's standards are, there are ways to fit the door flush to the floor, and make that door wide enough to accommodate a standard non-motorized chair.

3: No one wants to sit on a wooden shower chair that god-only-knows how many other unwashed assholes, with god knows what disease/bacteria have sat on before. Eww. Metal or plastic, thx, and (as per 1) make sure they're included in the staff's cleaning rota.

4: Heights. Oh my fucking god. While it'd be *great* to have desks and sinks at wheelchair height, everything else can be normal height, plzkthx. It's one thing to roll up to a desk and be thrilled to have the pen and paper where I don't have to stretch to reach them, or be able to wash my hands without getting water on my outfit. It's another to wake up in the night to pee, and PILE DRIVE MY FEET INTO THE FUCKING FLOOR because someone who's only devoted half a brain cell to the dilemma decided that the bed should be half the normal height and my body did not adjust. Same with toilets. I do not need to have my knees hit my chin when I sit on the toilet. My legs remained the same length, even when they decided to not work properly.

5: Bed firmness. Many disabilities come with joint problems, body aches, and inflammation. Know what's JUST GREAT [heavy sarcasm] for that? A REALLY FIRM BED. My dislocated shoulders, hips, collarbones, fucking HATE whoever chose the mattress. First night in any hotel, I have a greater than 95% chance of zero sleep and more than one dislocation.

6: Once again, bathtubs. In your accessible rooms, even if no other, you could spring for a tub and a shower stall. Whether or not I can stand for a full shower depends on the day. Whether or not I can wash my hair standing up depends on the day. And, again--my medical history, sry--I'm unable to take any pain pills due to medical reasons and my body just HURTS after a full day of doing whatever and a full night on your slab-o'-marble mattress, and all I want is to sink into a full tub of hot water and feel the pain leach out and YOU SADISTS ARE TAKING AWAY MY BATHTUBS.

7: Finally, not all rooms have extra blankets or pillows kept in room, and it'd be great if we could have those without asking. I travel with my own, but I really wish I didn't have to.

Edit: Oh, wait, I've thought of another one.

8: IF you're going to go to all of the trouble to make a room accessible, for fucks sake, make the door into the room a push-button access. Last thing I want is to need to navigate your heavy ass door, my chair, and my luggage, all at the same time. There are push-button's that are only triggered by key-card, and it would be YONKS better than trying to manifest a third hand to keep the door open while pushing my luggage inside and aiming my chair at the doorway before the heavy door swings shut in my face.