Expressing pain through sarcasm since 2010. Welcome to the official site for bitter cripples (and those who love them). Smart Ass Cripple has been voted World's Biggest Smart Ass by J.D. Power and Associates.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Way Too Seriously
I stay away from most theme restaurants because they might take the theme way too seriously and then I’ll be screwed.
Like for instance, take the Rainforest Café. There are few environments more inhospitable to cripples than a real live rainforest. So if the inside of the Rainforest Café is anything like a real live rainforest, then right when I enter my wheels will get stuck in the mud and I’ll be trapped and soon a giant bird of prey will eat me.
One would think that laws protect me from such things happening. But who knows for sure? It seems safe to assume that this deep into the 21st Century, a manmade rainforest would be required to have ramps and elevators and paved paths and automatic doors and such. But then again, maybe theme purity trumps access in the eyes of the law because like I said, some people take that theme stuff way too seriously. If you’ve ever been to a Star Wars-themed anything you know what I mean. If everybody else is meticulously dressed like a Noogie or whatever and you show up wearing a polo shirt and khakis, you will be the object of relentless scorn. When you fuck up the vibe you stir up the mob.
And cripples fuck up the vibe in a lot of theme restaurants. So maybe the Rainforest Café is “grandfathered,” as they say, meaning they are exempt from altering their theme to accommodate someone the likes of me. Or maybe they just assume they are “grandfathered.” There isn’t a cripple alive who hasn’t found him/herself in a situation where they couldn’t enter a place of business and the proprietor came out and said, “I’m sorry but we’re grandfathered!” I don’t know why so many proprietors think the legislatures amended the cripple access laws to specifically exempt only them.
And there’s a 1950s-themed restaurant near here, too. It’s got a jukebox and a soda fountain. It’s pretentiously unpretentious. Everything about it is authentic 1950s except the prices. That place is probably allowed to grandfather me right out of the door. Because you never saw cripples hanging around 1950s diners. That was before cripples were invented. So cripples fuck up the vibe. If I can enter that place at all it’ll probably be through the kitchen.
And the scariest theme restaurant of all is this place out on the interstate called Medieval Times. At that place people eat turkey legs and mashed potatoes with their bare hands and from a golden chalice they drink Mead and Budweiser. I’m afraid if I go to that place and they take the theme too seriously, as soon as I enter somebody will say something like, “Fi! Who art that evil creature riding a machine powered by Satan!” And then they’ll burn me at the stake.
I suppose if anyone ever opens a nursing home-themed restaurant I’ll be warmly welcomed. But if they take the theme too seriously they’ll never let me leave.
Posted by Smart Ass Cripple at 11:04 PM 1 comment:
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