Humans logo

Apparently, I Shouldn't Be Driving or Living because I'm Disabled

I'm hoping this was said solely in anger, but who can say?

By Matthew B. JohnsonPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
18
Me in my adapted Honda Element. Photo courtesy of author.

This happened about half an hour ago as of this writing.

Maybe I shouldn’t be writing about it yet because I’m still pissed off about it. Time and distance might help me see what happened with clearer vision. I could relate the experience with a more tempered hand, in a calmer tone, and with greater understanding for the offending party.

But, hey…fuck that.

***

Today, I was out running some errands – the foremost of which was getting a birthday present for one of my best friends as we’re getting together tomorrow to celebrate.

Once I had gone everywhere I needed to, I stopped at the Starbucks near my apartment. It was 3pm, and since I haven’t slept well all week, my usual afternoon energy slump hit me harder than normal.

Also, I’ve been especially grumpy all week due to sleep deprivation, which, I’ll fully admit, ads to my current anger.

When I got to Starbucks, the parking lot was almost completely full. I got the last available handicapped space which was in front of a sushi restaurant. As I begin getting out of my car, an older woman – maybe in her mid to late 60’s – comes out of said restaurant…and just stares at me as I’m transferring from my driver’s seat to my wheelchair.

Because of my adapted vehicle, I get stared at rather frequently as I’m getting in or out of my car. So much so that I barely notice anymore.

What happened next, however, happens so rarely that it catches me off guard every time.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” the lady staring at me said in a thick New York accent.

I looked over at my shoulder at her. “What?”

It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard her clearly. It was that I blown away by the implication and audacity of the statement.

She shook her head, and in a louder, angrier, and patronizingly slower voice, shouted at me. “YOU SHOULDN’T BE DRIVING!”

I rolled down my car’s ramp, and as I began closing it up, I asked, “Why not?”

She looked at me like I asked the world’s most obvious question.

“Because you’re retarded,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I swallowed the smart-assed, angry comment that rushed to force its way out of my mouth. As calmly as I could, I said, “I think the word you’re looking for is disabled.”

“I know what I mean,” she said.

I swallowed down another shitty comment. “Ma’am, I have a physical disability. I assure you my cognitive faculties are fully intact.”

She snort-laughed to herself. “How could they be? You’re in a wheelchair for Christ’s sake!”

This is the point where I should have let well-enough alone and just gone into Starbucks and gotten my coffee.

But, like I said, I was already grumpy.

…and now I’m pissed.

“You know, that’s a real ignorant thing to say,” I spat. “Before the pandemic, I was a college English professor.” Unfortunately, COVID killed enrollment, and many of us were – and still are – waitlisted for classes to teach.

She laughed at me and with as much condescension and derision as she could muster, and just said, “Ok.”

“I’m serious. I’m also a published author,” I said.

Why I’m bothering to argue with this woman, I don’t know. I wasn’t going to enlighten her or change how she thinks about disability.

Photo by Afif Kusuma on Unsplash

Having calmed down some since I began writing this, I would bet it’s likely she hit a nerve which I thought had scabbed over long ago, but is still somewhat exposed.

Ever since I became a quadriplegic, people have told me what I should and shouldn’t be allowed to do. What I am and am not capable of achieving. This often comes from people who don’t know me and/or know fuck-all about disabilities in general, much less my specific disability.

And my approach has always been, “Oh, you don’t think I can? Fuck you, watch me!”

Maybe I wanted to prove this woman wrong.

Maybe it was me proving something to myself.

Maybe I just wanted to fight. Who knows?

However, the more I argued my case, the angrier she seemed to grow. “You know, there was a time we’d put people like you in a crazy-house.”

Photo by Doug Maloney on Unsplash

Excuse me?

“Define ‘people like me,’” I said.

“Retards. The delusional. Liars…”

“Wow, that’s a really shitty thing to say,” I said.

She shrugged. “True is true.”

I don’t know what that means.

“Except when it’s bullshit,” I countered.

I don’t know what that means either, but it felt good to say.

She opened her car door and sat down in the driver’s seat. “They shouldn’t even let people like you live,” she said, eyeballing my wheelchair before slamming her door closed.

“You’re going to die way before me you old fucking bitch!” I shouted loud enough for her to hear me from behind her closed door and rolled-up window.

That was an unkind and unnecessary thing for me to say. It was said in anger, and I’m not proud of it, as being angry isn’t an excuse for saying hurtful things.

Moreover, I’d like to think her Nazi-esque views on disability were also said in the heat of the moment, that her words didn’t reflect how she truly felt.

But we each said what we said. We each played our part in a stupid fight.

My only redeeming factor here is that she started it. It’s funnier if you read that in a petulant child’s voice. Just saying.

***

The great irony here is that the only reason we came into contact at all was because she was parked in the handicapped space next to me!

We argued across the access aisle between spaces.

Moreover, she didn’t exhibit a physical disability. Sometimes this is the case, as many people have disabilities which aren’t outwardly visible.

However, the State of California hands out handicapped parking placards like they’re Tic Tacs. Some people have placards simply because they’re over age 65. This may have been the case with this woman, though I couldn’t honestly say for certain.

What worries me most is, say this wasn’t an older woman. Say it was a younger, more physically capable person. What can I do to stop them from acting on their bigoted beliefs?

I’m a big, strong dude for a quadriplegic…but a quadriplegic nonetheless.

I can hold my own in a verbal altercation. I’m not so sure about my ability to physically defend myself if things came to blows…or worse.

And no one should have to worry about being accosted by asshole strangers when they leave home.

***

If you liked this story and/or my writing, sign up for my email list to stay up to date on new stories, upcoming features, and cool news. I promise not to fill your inbox with useless crap.

You can also follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Medium, and BitClout

humanity
18

About the Creator

Matthew B. Johnson

Just a writer looking to peddle his stories. TOP WRITER on Medium in Humor, This Happened to Me, Mental Health, Disability, and Life Lessons. C-5 incomplete quadriplegic. I love comic books, coffee, all things Dragon Age, and the 49ers.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.