For man in wheelchair, sky's the limit

Scott Andreala's story is there for anyone to see, in tattoos inked on both arms.

He roots for underdogs (the Islanders and the Mets); cherishes his Roman Catholic faith; and honors the memory of his mother -- "RIP Willie" (short for Wilhelmina) -- and grandmother -- "RIP Nana."

Yet few people stop Andreala, who has cerebral palsy, to ask about his tattoos. Or his habit of donning, head to toe, the green and white of his soon-to-be alma mater, Farmingdale State College.

"People who don't know me make the mistake of thinking I'm stupid," Andreala said, with a barely controlled wave of one hand. "I know why. They look at the wheelchair, and they can't understand what I say when I'm talking."

Andreala's speech can be challenging to comprehend, especially when he's frustrated or excited. His arms and legs lash out, this way and that, as if determined to go their separate ways.

But underneath what people see in Andreala is a remarkably intelligent man -- with a wicked sense of humor -- determined to shape the world to his will.

Andreala, 32, will graduate May 15 with a bachelor of science in technology studies. "I'm a geek in a wheelchair," he said.

He's got a lead on a potential job -- but has no place to live once he leaves campus. "I'm scared," he said.

The college, along with a number of service agencies, has been working to find Andreala a home.

"We're all working to try to get him into federally funded or other suitable housing," said Patrick Calabria, a vice president of the college. "We're doing all that we can because he's a great person and we all love him."

Andreala's ideal place? A ground-floor dwelling in Westbury, where he could live near a favorite aide. Any home would have to include, or be fitted with, some special amenities -- such as an electronic lock -- to make it work for Andreala, who has limited use of his hands.

Wherever it is, Andreala is determined to remain independent. During his six years at Farmingdale, he's become a local celebrity.

His motorized wheelchair, with its wide, thick-tread tires, can reach 8 mph. Andreala pushes it to the max when he's zipping across campus, or down Route 110, where he does most of his shopping. He's content with the reality that he cannot drive. "I've got my own speedy car, right here," he said, pulling his face into a wide grin.

Andreala, born in Brooklyn and raised in Valley Stream, began setting a high bar for himself early. He attended the Henry Viscardi School in Albertson, where, he said, he met the late Henry Viscardi Jr., an internationally known advocate for the disabled who founded the school.

"I loved Dr. Viscardi," he said, motioning for a visitor to raise a sleeve on his T-shirt, which revealed an "RIP Dr. Viscardi" tattoo near his left shoulder.

Andreala went on to SUNY Old Westbury to study politics -- he is passionate about making the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 more effective -- but left after two years, he said, because he said it was too hard for him to get around campus.

Andreala took a four-year break as a day trader (his left forearm sports "NYSE" in ornate script next to a green dollar sign) before returning to school at Hofstra University. He spent a year there, he said, before moving to the less expensive state school in East Farmingdale.

He is a prolific writer who types with a pencil or his knuckles. He wrote his senior thesis on the Americans with Disabilities Act, advocating the use of technology to develop software that would reduce the number of keystrokes required to create words. This would help remove bars to education for the disabled.

One day he hopes to work in Nassau County's Office for the Physically Challenged.

As for tattoos, there's more to come, which is no surprise because he uses them to record significant events in his life.

"I've got to have a 'FSC' and I've been thinking about an 'ADA,' " he said. "Which do you think ought to come first?"