In the parking lot, the idea of riding an automatic wheel chair had made me hobble faster toward the entrance; I was so excited to finally ride the previously forbidden chair.
Halfway to the back of the store my happiness sagged from the weight of my inability.
At full-throttle the chair went 4 miles per hour.
As soon as my thumb rested, the dumb thing immediately stopped.
The people behind joined in the abrupt stop, but, realizing they were breaking the politeness rule about staring, went on their way.
The chair had a safety back up beeper so people wouldn’t get run over; however, it was so high pitched that, whenever I reversed, everyone in the store peaked down my aisle.
After the stares dissolved my glee, all I had left was a puddle of self-consciousness.
I tried to round a corner that wasn’t round.
I tried to round a corner that wasn’t round.
More stares.
Lovely.
Not.
I agree with Owl City: "Reality is a lovely place, but I wouldn't want to live there."
Not.
I agree with Owl City: "Reality is a lovely place, but I wouldn't want to live there."
