Sunday, October 25, 2015
After the Revolution
I was watching a movie that was set in New York in the 1940s. And you know how sometimes you’re watching a movie and you spot a blatant historical inaccuracy that ruins the whole illusion? Well in this movie the protagonist crossed the street and the curbs on both sides of the intersection were nicely ramped to accommodate wheelchair cripples. “Oops,” I said to myself. “Somebody didn’t do their research. Don’t they know that in the 1940s there was no such thing? In the name of authenticity, somebody should have made concrete-colored ramp fillers out of Styrofoam and stuffed them in those gaps to eliminate those ramps and more accurately reflect the inhospitable nature of the times.”
And then I had one of those moments where I think about some of the shit previous generations of cripples put up with and I shake my head in disbelief. I said to myself," I can’t believe there was a time when there was nothing but big-ass curbs everywhere. That would make me erupt. Life must’ve really sucked back then.”
And then I had one of those moments that I always have after I have one of those moments where I think about some of the shit previous generations of cripples put up with. And I told myself not to be so damn superior. Every generation of cripples puts up with shit we ought not to put up with, including mine. When I fly on the airlines they haul my ass to my seat and take away my wheelchair and throw it in the baggage hole, which means I’m screwed in the event of an emergency. I’m also screwed if I have to go to the bathroom, although I’d still be screwed in that regard even if I had my chair because those airliner bathrooms are so tiny you can’t sit on the crapper without your knees pressing up against the back of the door. So you sure as hell can’t fit a wheelchair in there. I feel like erupting in outrage about all this but I don’t. Erupting probably wouldn't yield any immediate results anyway. If I demanded an accommodation from the airlines in the event that I have to pee in flight, they’d probably issue me a clothespin to clamp onto the end of my pecker. So instead of erupting, I quietly dehydrate myself. This greatly reduces the odds of my needing the bathroom during the flight or of peeing my pants in the event of an emergency.
And then I had one of those moments that I always have after I have one of those moments where I remind myself about the kind of shit my generation of cripples puts up with. And I wondered what future generations of cripples will say to themselves when they look back on us hapless cripples of today and shake their heads in disbelief. Here’s what I hope they’ll say: ”I can’t believe there was a time when every cripple didn’t have their own free, custom-made, accessible private jet. That was before the revolution, when cripples seized control of the government and immediately passed the Free Custom-made Accessible Private Jet for All Americans with Disabilities Act (FCAPJADA). Life must’ve really sucked back then.”
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