4:45Am
Sunday.
Time to rise.
After about 30minutes of sleeping its time to embark on a handicap accessible vacation. The day was early, the air was crisp, and a sense of anticipation hung there like hangers in closet waiting to be torn off in a hurry as we left for the airport. I was a little nervous about heading to a busy airport with my disability but I was definitley to tired to notice as I crutched around like a drunk. So far, so good, everything was working out okay as we checked out bags and headed to the security check point. Maybe everything would be alright, maybe this trip was going to work out okay..... yea, maybe.
My "condition"
"Sir because you have a condition you can board first when you get to the gate."
Excuse me?
My condition?
Who the f*ck are you and what the f*ck is my condition?
This was news to me. I wasn't aware a broken fibula was considered by airport staff to be a "condition." Whatever, I laugh at the term. No big deal, I'll let this slide, the day is early and I got plenty more important things to go take care of. Maybe one day I'll forgive him and he can earn my respect but right now I'll just chuckle to myself, with my condition.
"Please step aside and come with me sir"
Onto airport security. Surely they would be nicer then some bum at the baggage check-in. I couldn't be more wrong. Not only did they demand I put my crutches up for x-rays but as soon as I limp through the metal detector I am informed by airport security that I had been randomly selected for additional screening.
Random my ass.
I now know the pain and humilation felt by so many people of the Arabic culture and Islamic religion. To all the repressed peoples of the world, I know what its like to be discriminated against. There wasn't anything random about my selection. I am a pretty frequent traveler and it just so happens that the one time I wear a protective boot over my leg aid in healing my broken fibula I am 'randomly' selected to be additionaly screened. Yea, f*ck you gov't.
Red cheeks and humiliation aside I am brought into a little booth and forced to sit down. After receiving a myriad of complicated, vague, and very inappropriate directions from the officers I manage to pull myself together and limp away towards the gate with the little diginity I have remaining.
11:30am
Land, shuttle, hotel, depart for Busch Gardens. After a whirlwind of activity and being pierced with the daggers of people whom have never seen a temporary handicap person I find myself deep in conversation with our shuttle driver.
Of course the topic of conversation is broken bones. Coincidence? What do you think. Although a bit outspoken, he made for a pleasant chat on the way. Anyway, I could go on all day about the shuttle trips and the drivers but I don't want to get into that right now.
Upon arriving at Busch Gardens I am super excited to head to the stroller, scooter, and wheel chair rental facility which is conveintly located at the entrance of the park. The people there are friendly and I receive my very first wheel chair that I can actually call my own (it comes with a name tag that I can hang from the top). Off to the first ride.
I was given a letter that comes with a set of directions for handicap guests at the park and after reading them I was confused and a little worried that it wouldn't be nearly as awesome as I once had anticipated. Arriving at the first ride things begin to change as I step up into this sweet ass world of VIP treatment at amusement parks. Riding right up the exit ramp I am greeted by the ride operator and instructed that my party and I will be taking off on the next available seat and finally.. finally I begin to see the light. This light, would only be getting brighter. After pulling in from a thrilling ride on the first coaster of the day I ask if I can ride again. The guy responds by telling me I need to get off and walk around. I think he means get off for a second and come back on. However, as soon as he sees my 'condition' he immediately apologizes, "I thought you were just some random dude, my bad sir." I tell him no worries while he shakes my hand and I accept his apology. No worries indeed. The rest of the day I received much the same treatment from employees of the park. They even seem to be friendly and eager to talk to a handsome young stud in a wheel chair. One of them managed to steal my heart after some chat while I waited in probably the only line I had to wait in the whole time at the park. Pixie was her first name and her last name, which I will not share, made me wonder if she worked as a stripper or at the very least was in some way affiliated with the adult entertainment industry (her body really made me wonder as well), but enough about her. She was one of the many nice employees who took care of the special needs people at the park and I thank her for that. I will forgive her for using my leg to start a conversation with me, I only hope that she is secure enough in herself to have started talking to me without such an easy opener. Unfortunately I did not have enough cash on hand to rent Busch Garden to myself for the day and this meant that the park was open to the general public.
Sure the patrons of the park weren't too happy or polite when it came to handling my 'condition.' But f*ck them, they don't have a broken fibula. I shouldn't be too hard on the other patrons, its not their fault. I can understand why they stared at me. Its tough for little kids, parents, girlfriends, tourists, locals, etc, its tough for them to see a handsome, healthy, and well built man confined to a wheel chair. They seem to need to figure out why someone of my nature is trapped, I watch their eyes scan my body and then after a brief eye f*ck- if she's a confident gal, they noticed the boot on my leg and immediatley seem to relax as they have their answer. This beautiful man (me) won't be stuck like that forever, thank god.
Conclusion
I certainly had my thrills of adventure and interaction at the park that day. And because of the length of this story and the numerous detials and little adventure that ensued I will not go into detail. This is simply memoirs of a temporary handicap, not a minute by minute account of JR's life. I do, like all Americans, have my rights to privacy and I am choosing to exercise mine at this point in time. I apologize for leaving you on edge with the events of the night time, especially after such an exhilirating day.
The special vacation was very special indeed. It was a lot of fun and I could probably write two 300 page novels on everything that happened. Traveling as a temporary handicap, as with everything in life we do, was not easy but I, like we all do, managed to press on and face the world with one healthy fibula as if I had two.
So go out and life your life (ay ay ay) with two good legs (or with one for my fellow handicap readers) and remember as, Henry David Thoreau said, "we should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character," I know I certainly have, and I hope you will too.
- JR
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