Sunday, February 12, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
I do have the best friends
When Mom saw it, she said, "You have the best friends." I have to agree.
It's the pillow at left, which now cushions my chaise lounge.
They decided on the picture because I used to work in newspapers but now work in wildlife.
I have yet to encounter any gnus yet, but they are members of the antelope family and we have been in the news because we are canceling an exemption that allowed hunting of endangered antelope without a permit.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Accessibility for a--holes
Today I was reminded that public transportation is accessible to everyone ... even assholes.
I got to the subway right as the elevator arrived, rode straight down to the train. A train was waiting, so I hurried right on.
Immediately, I heard a voice say, "You're messing with my vehicle." It sounded magnified, like the conductor talking or something.
I looked around, wondering if I had hit the train with my chair but didn't see my accuser. There was one guy in the rear corner where the voice seemed to be coming from, but he was ignoring me. The rest of the train was empty until about half-way down where a few people sat.
I just sat there trying not to pay attention to what must not have been aimed at me ... at least I did until I started hearing "stupid white boy," "gonna fuck you and your bitch" and more. All punctuated with "You're messing with my vehicle."
I was not about to get off the train to make the asshole happy, so I just stared straight ahead and waited.
Finally, my stop came and I got off. The asshole stayed on. I was going to tell the station manager but he was busy and I just wanted to get out of there. I did.
I close my eyes now and am filled with hate. I hate myself for not doing anything, even if all I could do was say a fellow passenger was verbally abusive to me. I hate that I have a service dog who might lick him and play if he did try to hurt me. I wish Claren was a pitbull or German shepherd, something that could have hurt him. I hate that no one else in the train got involved, although I can't blame them. I hate that I am defenseless. I hate that I didn't even know he was yelling at me.
Mostly, though, I hate the asshole.
I got to the subway right as the elevator arrived, rode straight down to the train. A train was waiting, so I hurried right on.
Immediately, I heard a voice say, "You're messing with my vehicle." It sounded magnified, like the conductor talking or something.
I looked around, wondering if I had hit the train with my chair but didn't see my accuser. There was one guy in the rear corner where the voice seemed to be coming from, but he was ignoring me. The rest of the train was empty until about half-way down where a few people sat.
I just sat there trying not to pay attention to what must not have been aimed at me ... at least I did until I started hearing "stupid white boy," "gonna fuck you and your bitch" and more. All punctuated with "You're messing with my vehicle."
I was not about to get off the train to make the asshole happy, so I just stared straight ahead and waited.
Finally, my stop came and I got off. The asshole stayed on. I was going to tell the station manager but he was busy and I just wanted to get out of there. I did.
I close my eyes now and am filled with hate. I hate myself for not doing anything, even if all I could do was say a fellow passenger was verbally abusive to me. I hate that I have a service dog who might lick him and play if he did try to hurt me. I wish Claren was a pitbull or German shepherd, something that could have hurt him. I hate that no one else in the train got involved, although I can't blame them. I hate that I am defenseless. I hate that I didn't even know he was yelling at me.
Mostly, though, I hate the asshole.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Elevators are for me
When I needed it most, my brain blanked on my brother-in-law's cutting comeback when walking people fill up the elevator and don't let me on.
He suggested I say loudly: "Oh, I'll just take the escalator. Oh, wait, that's right, I can't because I'm in a wheelchair."
The stage was set on Friday when I got to the elevator at the West Falls Church metro. I got off the train and wheeled to the elevator just as it filled up with people who walk.
The two people right at the elevator doors squirmed a bit when they saw me and looked uncomfortable, but they didn't get off.
I started to say, "I'll just get the next one." But then I thought, why let these jerks off the hook; they should feel uncomfortable.
Instead as the doors were closing, I shouted, "THE ELEVATORS ARE FOR ME."
Now, I have a quiet voice, and normally when I say I shouted, I imagine most people do not hear me. This time, though, I really yelled. I know this because a woman in the station came over and asked if I was all right.
Yes, I told her. I just don't like people not letting me on the elevator. She agreed, although it might have been just to get clear of the crazy guy.
It was a rotten start to the weekend, but I'd be lying if I didn't say it felt good.
He suggested I say loudly: "Oh, I'll just take the escalator. Oh, wait, that's right, I can't because I'm in a wheelchair."
The stage was set on Friday when I got to the elevator at the West Falls Church metro. I got off the train and wheeled to the elevator just as it filled up with people who walk.
The two people right at the elevator doors squirmed a bit when they saw me and looked uncomfortable, but they didn't get off.
I started to say, "I'll just get the next one." But then I thought, why let these jerks off the hook; they should feel uncomfortable.
Instead as the doors were closing, I shouted, "THE ELEVATORS ARE FOR ME."
Now, I have a quiet voice, and normally when I say I shouted, I imagine most people do not hear me. This time, though, I really yelled. I know this because a woman in the station came over and asked if I was all right.
Yes, I told her. I just don't like people not letting me on the elevator. She agreed, although it might have been just to get clear of the crazy guy.
It was a rotten start to the weekend, but I'd be lying if I didn't say it felt good.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Too damn nice
Shortly after lunch today, I began feeling rotten.
This made no sense because I had just come back from a walk and it was ridiculously beautiful out. For Feb. 1 or even May 1. It was sunny and in the 70s. Gorgeous.
I think that was my problem.
Even after more than 10 years in a wheelchair full time, I still miss running and playing. Doing all the things people do on fantasticly warm days. And as great as Claren is, I also found myself missing someone to share the day with. Not that I'd leave work early or anything but still.
This made no sense because I had just come back from a walk and it was ridiculously beautiful out. For Feb. 1 or even May 1. It was sunny and in the 70s. Gorgeous.
I think that was my problem.
Even after more than 10 years in a wheelchair full time, I still miss running and playing. Doing all the things people do on fantasticly warm days. And as great as Claren is, I also found myself missing someone to share the day with. Not that I'd leave work early or anything but still.
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