Hindering The Handicapped

After waiting on the cockeyed-parking ne'er-do-well handicap space usurper to vacate my rightful parking place, I did my business in the Gas Station Chicken Store. I walked without my cane. Felt okay in the rumpus/leg department. Still improving with baby steps. Or maybe it's the result of four ibuprofen and three acetaminophen per day.

Anyhoo... I went from there to the Liquor Store. The plan was for Casey's, but the gas pumps were full of customers, and most of the parking spaces taken. I didn't even drive onto their parking lot, figuring I couldn't stand long in line. But the Liquor Store only had three cars, and a line at the drive-thru. They have a separate clerk for that.

I've already made one sortie to the Liquor Store for scratchers, without using my cane. (I have not done so yet at Casey's.) I started in, walking along the building, where I could touch it for support if I lost my balance on the slanted pavement. I got up the ramp, into the door. It always announces my presence with:

"FRONT DOOR OPEN!"

I took three of my baby steps. I was only three more steps from the counter.

Around the end of the aisle, over by the fake slot machines, came a Tasmanian Devil. She was about 10 years younger than me. Should have had gray hair, but it was coal black. Kind of teased up, like a short '60s beehive. She was in shorts and a tank top. CARRYING 9 BOTTLES OF WINE! I know that, because she darted in front of me, and I had plenty of time to count it while I waited.

Here's the thing. Tas could see I was headed to the register. She could also see that I was limpy and slow. That's why she almost ran to get to the counter ahead of me.

Let the record show that I don't expect special treatment. It's my choice to go into a store, and whether I use a cane or not. Nobody has to hold doors for me, or offer to let me go ahead. In fact, on Thursday a lady tried to let me go ahead in the Sis-Town Casey's, when I was using my cane. I told her no, that she had been in line ahead of me, and I was fine. I also told that to the lady after her, because I couldn't see around the aisle, and suspected she might have also been there before I came in. So I'm NOT asking for or expecting favors.

I DO expect fairness! Which I don't think encompasses running to beat somebody to the counter. If we had both been equally-abled in our mobility, and in a dead heat to reach that finish line, I would have motioned Tas ahead, because she was CARRYING 9 BOTTLES OF WINE. But the fact is, I was struggling to walk unaided, and she was in a hurry to drink. IMO.

There's nothing good to lean on in the Liquor Store. At least in the GSCS, there's always a stack of beer cases across from the register, holding the cardboard box for the weekly gas drawing. In the Liquor Store, there are only flimsy wire racks, holding bottles of assorted alcohol. I stood, swaying a bit, trying for my cartilage-less leg bones to balance their rounded ends, and not lock up or slip out of place.

Tas apologized to the clerk for carrying her 9 BOTTLES OF WINE in a black plastic milk crate. "It's all I saw back there. I should have gotten a box."

"That's okay. I'll put them in bags," he said.

Great. How long would THAT take? Was he going to offer to carry them out? That's HEAVY. And he only put them in single bags. An accident waiting to happen. I worried that Tas would make a sharp glassy mess in front of the door, and I would be trapped, standing, for too long. But wait. She wasn't done. She needed three packs of cigarettes that were on the bottom shelf. And two lottery tickets.

Tas picked up those bags like a sturdy Sherpa, and hot-footed it out of there.

I made my knees cooperate, and inched to the counter where I could lean and take some pressure off. My transaction went quickly. I had to use the brick wall for assistance on the way back to T-Hoe. I wished I had brought my cane. The wait would probably have been shorter in Casey's.