I crutched out of the lunch room, a buddy in tow. I need someone to carry my drink–I’ve tried to by myself, I end up rolling it across the ground, kicking it along as I go. I reached the door and was about to push it open when the security guard put his hands on it to keep it form opening.
“The look on your face said it all,” my buddy said. “He looked at your expression and your crutches and was not about to cross you.”
That’s right. He better not say anything.
You see, there are some benefits to being a temporary cripple. I was not about to turn around. The effort it took just to get to the cafeteria put me in a challenging mood.
And yet, though I can pretty much wander anywhere without being told to do anything, I was standing–after school mind you– and a different security guard told me to “hop on over there.”
I looked at him incredulously. Was he actually telling me to move? I was in nobody’s way. I was hurting nobody, in fact, my presence wasn’t even an eyesore.
I managed to get “out of the way.”
Then, of course, he told me to skidaddle.
