Yesterday was a big day for my freedom. Ever since that jackass yelled “they see me rollin’” across the street at me, I’ve not felt like going out in my chair. And, as for the most part I can’t manage going out without my sweet, sweet ride, this has resulted in me becoming a bit of a hermit. Being stuck inside four walls is depressing, boring and lonely. So my boyfriend decided we were going for a wander down to the beach. He even offered to push me in my manual chair so that we were in it together. GO TEAM!
Aberdeen. January. The beach. Sitting still. It was fucking Baltic, however J worked up a fair sweat pushing my fat ass around. I felt good. Blowing the cobwebs away felt so glorious, in fact, that I was okay with going to the supermarket (for the first time ever in my chair) to pick up a few bits on the way home. I’m not going to lie, I secretly wanted a duvet cover set with bunnies that ASDA sell… And I got it! Mwa ha ha.
Firstly, it was scary. I love J, but he sort of forgets that I am a person and not a shopping trolley. He makes zooming noises that make me mad because they belittle my situation and he just abandons me in my chair while he goes to get something. These things all need work, but we managed to get around the shop. The problem was when we got to the checkout.
There is an accessible checkout. There is a huge fuck off picture of a wheelchair above it and on it. Now, I know that it is essentially a free-for-all, but if you saw a wheelchair user with a basket of items about to join that queue, would you rush to get in front of them with your huge trolley, laden with food… and your 3 screaming kids? Probably not. Well, this one woman did. She took her sweet fucking time, but we waited. Sometimes ya just gotta wait while two kids simultaneous stare you out while screaming bloody murder. The cashier then started scanning through our items as J bagged them up… Except the dipshit woman with her massive shop and screaming spawn was still standing at the bottom of the bagging area with her trolley, essentially boxing me in between J and her. I had no room to move back and felt really distressed. She just 100% ignored me. It turns out her eldest-spawn had gone back to get something that she’d been pleading with her mum to purchase… So asshole-mum just pretended the trapped cripple didn’t exist while she waited on her precious daughter to return. I can only assume this is how the hamster feels when he gets stuck in the corner in his ball.
I so badly wish I’d shouted “MOVE YOUR ASS YOU SELFISH FUCKING BITCH!” using maximum expletives so that at the very least, she moved to get her darling kids away from my foul mouth. That said, I don’t think she spoke English… Or at least she chose not to. So, she doesn’t speak English or open her fucking eyes to the human being that she was basically holding prisoner at the Asda checkout. What a cunt.
Anyway, I have promised myself that in the future, I will speak up when someone is a dick to me because I’m in a wheelchair. If I don’t, it’ll eat me alive that I said nothing. I’ve never been okay with people wronging me in the past, so I’m not about to take it sitting down now. I mean, I’m going to be sitting down, but I’m not going to take it. I might even stick an air horn in the side pocket of my new (super cool, hah) wheelchair bag and use it to draw all of the attention when someone blocks me in again.
I’m genuinely, absolutely okay with being an asshole. In fact, the world needs more bolshie cripples if this shit is ever going to stop.