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I NEED MY SPACE

And just to show you my heart’s in the right place, I’m go

STALLING AROUND

Another handicapped feature I enjoy are the extra-large toilet stalls in public restrooms; once again, an excellent idea. There’s so much room in there to spread out; it’s like a gymnasium. I can do some pushups, work on my kickboxing, try out a few dance steps. Occasionally I bring a picnic lunch. Nothing fancy; just a small salad, a bit of cheese, perhaps a delicate Bordeaux.

I find that once you’re locked in there, you can pretty much do what you want. About the only limitations might be common decency and a sensible re

gard for personal safety. One time, I had a few friends over and we played cards all night. The good thing was when one of the players had to take a shit, he didn’t have to drop out of the game for several hands. He simply traded places with the person who was using the toilet as a chair and it worked out great.

I mention all this because I want you to know I recognize some of the positive things that have grown out of this unfortunate obsession America has with the handicapped.

THEY’RE EASILY BOARD

But on this subject I also have a few complaints to make, the main one being this business at the airport of letting the handicapped get on the plane early. I don’t like the idea of people boarding ahead of me just because they’ve had a run of bad luck. It doesn’t seem fair. I think if a person’s had some bad luck, it should apply across the board to all segments of his life. We shouldn’t be going around trying to selectively fix people’s bad luck.

And what bothers me most about the process is, I’m not sure all these people are truly handicapped; some of them don’t look that fucked up. I think there’s a fairly hefty amount of bullshitting going on at the check-in counter.

ROLLIN’, ROLLIN’, R0LLIN’

The whole fiasco begins just before the flight, with the parade of wheelchairs. And apparently, just about anyone can get their hands on one of those airport wheelchairs. You know the ones I mean? The ones the airlines provide? Not a wheelchair some guy brings from home; I don’t mind that. I figure if a guy’s laid out money for his own wheelchair, he’s probably legitimately fucked up. And I don’t mind a guy gettin’ ahead of me if he’s legitimately fucked up. You know? Like if a huge chunk of his head is missing, or he’s got a whole caved-in

chest and two or three of his limbs don’t work. Generally, in a case like that, I’m go

But, to me, some of these airline-wheelchair people don’t look that fucked up; they just look oldand my guess is they’re lazy.

A lot of old people are lazy, because somehow when they hit their 80s or 90s, they think it’s time to take it easy. Old people aren’t “spry” and ‘full of ginger” anymore. Now they’re all just lazy. And frankly, I think they’re just try in’ to get a free ride to the gate.

RAISING CANES

But let’s get back to the actual process of boarding. As soon as the wheelchair derby is over the next thing you have to contend with is these people who show up with canes and crutches; what I call the quasi-handicapped. And even though I’m willing to cut the wheelchair people some slack, I’m not so easy on the cane folks. I’m convinced most of these jokers with canes don’t really need them.

And once again it’s the old people, tryin’ to gain sympathy and get to the front of the line. It’s obviously a scam: have you noticed, for instance, how suddenly these canes materialize? Out of nowhere? One minute everyone at the gate looks perfectly healthy, the next minute half of em have a limp. And before you know it there are twenty or thirty people leanin’ on canes. I’m convinced that somewhere in the airport (which has now become a large mall with airplanes as a side attraction) there must be a little place where you can rent canes. “Canes for Planes.”