“MOVE IT!”
I had just hobbled off the coach, en route to my home town to visit with my son. London Victoria is where I had to change to a different coach, and I was looking forward to the two-hour break so that I could stretch my legs, have a cold drink and perhaps find myself in a conversation with an interesting stranger. You can always find someone fascinating to talk to at The Traveller’s Rest – the coach station pub.
Still slightly dazed from the journey so far, I looked up from attempting to juggle a large book, my walking stick and my luggage (one of those wheeled cases – the type with a mind of its own) and realised from the baleful stare that the angry shout had been directed at me. A red-faced man in station uniform and a fluorescent vest was glaring at me as though I had just crawled out from underneath a rock.
Exactly how did he expect me to “move it” at any kind of pace; couldn’t he see that I was having trouble in just gathering my things together? Did he honestly believe that I was purposely fussing around and getting in the way for fun? How quickly did he expect anybody with a walking stick – and therefore only one hand free – to sort their luggage out unaided and get out of the way? An able-bodied person of my stature would struggle with both hands free.
Feeling embarrassed and harrassed – to say nothing of hurt – I managed to limp my way off the concrete and through the “Arrivals” gate, feeling as though everybody was staring at me and shaking their heads in disgust. I was tired and cold (it was close to Christmas) and all I wanted to do was sit down with a refreshing glass of wine and my book. The encounter had put me off actually wanting to speak to anybody, but a wonderfully eccentric ex soldier spotted me by myself and decided to keep me company. If there’s one thing I like about myself, it’s that if I draw people to me they’re generally quite lovely and not in the least bit psychotic.
Thanks to that old soldier, and a very helpful taxi driver, I reached Hope Orchard in a much happier frame of mind, and on arrival I was relieved of my luggage so that I didn’t have to struggle in getting to my room.
One thing I’m not is what I refer to as an “entitlement bitch”; I don’t expect anybody to bend over backwards for me, to move out of my way in the street (it isn’t always possible, for one thing) or to be nice to me all the time just because my disability is sometimes (not always) visible to the naked eye. I certainly do not believe that the world owes me for my broken body. Why should it owe me anything? It isn’t anybody’s fault that I was born this way.
However, I do expect to be treated as any other human being – with dignity and respect. I should not have had to experience what felt – to me – like blind hatred and disgust. I should not have felt “shamed” for being “crippled”. I should not have had to endure the indignity of having attention drawn to myself in a negative manner by an ignorant stranger.
I didn’t make a fuss or ask for his name at the time, but I do hope that, one day, that man and others like him will read this blog (or my book) and think twice before they judge so harshly against those less able to defend themselves.
What a prick. I’ve encountered the full range of behaviour from people in the transport industry, too. There are some very good people there, as you know, eg your taxi driver that day. But that particular station worker was the real ‘idiot’ in your story.
I’ve not travelled alone since that weekend – it probably wouldn’t be safe given my worsening seizures anyway, but even if I could I still wouldn’t.
I got home on the Sunday evening, and the first thing I did on the Monday morning was to order a Kindle so that I wouldn’t struggle so much in the future.
I’m glad you did those things. As a mutual friend wrote recently, ‘I will not break. I will learn to bend.’
Absolutely! I think that’s a variant on a quote from Uncle Tom’s Cabin? Could be wrong, but it’s definitely from a book!
It might be from Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which I haven’t read. I found it in a poem by Rambling Woods http://ramblingwoods.com/2013/02/07/i-will-not-break-i-will-learn-to-bend/
What an ass! I understand not everyone works in the job they want to be in or a preferred position, but that is still no excuse to act that way. He’s lucky he doesn’t work here in the states. At least you weren’t as unfortunate as when I took Greyhound and had to deal with a driver “from hell”.
Oh no, that sounds awful! What happened?
You might want to grab something to munch and drink because this might get a bit long-winded (hopefully not).
Before the trip from hell (Prologue):
Years ago (I forget how long) I took Greyhound back to Denver,Colorado. Everything was going fine until we get almost a third of way and the bus we are riding breaks down in the middle of nowhere and has to park at some gas station. When we arrived it was day, by the time another bus came to pick us up it was night, and pretty dark. Not so bad, the only problem we had was the only restrooms we were able to use were the one on the bus and the ones in the gas station. Majority of the sex on the bus was female, one of which was traveling with a baby (Very nice lady too, she was traveling with her husband). As we had stopped a good portion of us lined up for the restroom on the bus, the first person in the restroom was some guy who decided it was an appropriate time to use it as his vocal booth to sing along to the songs he was listening to on his walkman.
While waiting I get this ominous feeling, or some kind of intense feeling of heat on the back of my neck, I turn to look behind me and all of the women on the bus were right behind me waiting to use the restroom and they looked less than thrilled. So I chose to take my chance with the restroom in the gas station. Did I mention that it could also be a good possibility that it was “that time of the month” for some them (not trying to be insulting, just guessing because of how angry some of them looked)? I know as I was stepping off of the bus I heard some shouting and banging.
Other than that a new bus came, picked us up, and we all made it back fine.
The Trip Back From Hell:
On the trip home I had met a couple of other guys who were traveling back west along with myself, so we pretty much hang out with one another, chat, and keep the trip from being completely boring (plus I couldn’t sleep sitting bolt upright). We get to Grand Junction to switch buses, after a while the next bus/driver shows up. As the other two guys and I are waiting outside the terminal people begin to shuffle off of the bus that just arrived and into the terminal to use the restroom and get something to eat. While standing around we noticed the mood of the majority of the people arriving was pretty agitated, they were also mumbling something. So one of the other guys I was traveling with goes up and asks on of the people getting off what the deal was. Come to find out the driver for the bus they were on threw off two old ladies because when he looked up into his mirror he saw them smiling at him and said they were mocking him. He also didn’t give them their luggage. After hearing this the other two guys and myself look at each other pretty worried, but we were going to make sure this asshole wasn’t going to leave anyone behind not just us.
Sure enough, when we pull into a rest stop with this new driver to use the restroom, stretch our legs. Everyone begins to get back on the bus. Two of the passengers (one of them was one of the guys I am traveling with) are late coming back. The driver begins to start the bus and starts to pull away. The one guy and myself jump up and start shouting at this guy to wait, he started shouting back at us to sit down, and we proceed to inform him if he didn’t wait we would be rushing to the front (we were pissed). Come to find out it was more important to make it the next area so he could get his lunch/dinner (cannot remember). The other guys and I pulled whatever money we had together to make sure we got something to eat, but we were still pissed with this driver.
Halfway home, late at night. Everything seems OK, aside from the driver talking to himself very loudly and cracking stupid jokes. Suddenly we feel the bus begin to swerve (there are also grooves on the side of the highway for when people swerve, so that noise also didn’t help ease things), we look up and see that the driver is nodding off. So not only are we pissed off with this guy, we are thoroughly shitting ourselves in fear of the bus wrecking on the side of the road. Every time the bus would swerve we would brace ourselves, look up to see if the driver was nodding (he was!), shout something, and he would wake up. By the time we reached Vegas we (pretty much every passenger) were happy to be off of that bus.
The Eery Part:
A few years later I am watching the news at home with my family and a headline comes on about a Greyhound bus crashing somewhere on the same highway we just traveled. One of the things mentioned was about the driver nodding off/sleeping at the wheel. The impact of the crash killed the driver, but I cannot help shake the feeling that it could possibly be the same driver we had.
People can be such assholes
Word
I had it once at a train station I had my crutches – baby in pushchair and needed to get across platforms – the lift was out of order – not my fault though you would have thought from the way the guard reacted I had deliberately broken it to annoy him
Arrgh, been there and done that! A pleasant evening with friends in London was ruined on getting home to Chelmsford via train. Epilepsy also causes bladder problems, and the security guards at the station refused to unlock the Ladies or the Disabled toilets for me! We were both upset by the rudeness and the “Can’t be bothered” attitude, and then we had to pay for a taxi that we couldn’t really afford because a couple of idiots wouldn’t unlock the Disabled toilet for a disabled person. I didn’t have a RADAR key back then, but I could see one swinging from one of their keychains.
So sorry that this happened to you
Life is a bitch and her dog always bites you!
Oh yes; Karma doesn’t sleep
Yep
I agree so much with your last statement, I hope that guy, and others, like him do learn that yelling at people isn’t likely to magically cure their physical difficulties!
It reminds me a time when I was out with my mum (in her 70s, has some problems moving quickly) where we were shouted at by a driver. Yelling at us was apparently because we weren’t sufficiently grateful to say thank you that she had stopped her car, instead of trying to run us over on a narrow pathway that I thought was for pedestrians.
I often wonder if she would’ve done the same thing to taller and stronger-looking bloke.
It doesn’t happen to me very often, but I’ve definitely had the “small and blonde” prejudice thrown at me by various assholes. I’m certain that the coach station worker would never have spoken to a large disabled man in the way that he spoke to me.
Someone did that to your mother? What a cow! The elderly deserve nothing but respect!
I find that being in a wheelchair makes me either invisible (people talk to the person pushing the chair, but not to me) or mentally disabled (people talk to me as though I have the mental age of a 5 year old). A walking stick brings me either sympathetic exclamations from people, or angry shouts from car drivers when I don’t cross the road as quickly as they like. I find that the way people treat me when my mobility is impaired, says more about them than it does about me.
Yes, you’re quite right. It tells us who the *real* idiots are. I’ve had the same “sympathetic exclamations” from people concerning my stick, but they have always been from people I know who had never seen me with a walking aid before – and so they thought I’d hurt myself somehow. I can live with that.
FWIW: To me you will always be my gorgeous younger sister who has looked after and supported me when nobody else could or would. You’re amazing
(Also, I’m TOTALLY looking forward to the next time I see you. I hear you’re thinking of leaving before the evening part but I wish to point out that I intend to supply the DJ with a CD and playlist. I feel that this might change your mind. *Grin*)
Okay… what are you planning? It sounds as though I need to stick around for as long as I can!
that’s really mean. Some people feel they’re entitled to let the rage flow. It’s an attitude I wish there was less of.
I honestly can’t understand that guy’s attitude! I’m grateful that there are more nice people in the world – like that lovely war vet – and less of the people like the jerk who yelled at me that time.
Some people are just born without any concept of manners or niceties. I’m glad that there were people there to help you out and put you in a better mood. Maybe that shouty man was just having a bad day? You can never tell from one-off interactions with people, sadly. (But then, even if he was having a bad day, there’s no call for him to take it out on anyone else.)
You’re right; so often the disabled are treated like lesser life-forms by people who are able to work. People like this guy need to remember that it’s people like me – travellers on public transport – who pay his wages, and therefore we all command respect – disability or not.
(However horrible a customer in a shop or a resident in a nursing home was to me, I always had to remember that they were paying my wages. Other people should remember this before biting the hands that feed them.)
That’s disgusting though sadly not surprising. My friend and I had an experience once on the way to university where the ticket seller for our train wouldn’t give a train timetable to a man with an intellectual disability even though he was polite and clear about what he wanted. The man with the disability was flustered by the rudeness of the seller and walked off defeated. My friend and I were so angry that we went up to the seller and asked for the same timetable. He gave it to us straight away laughing about ‘the retard’ in front of us who had walked off. We picked up the timetable without saying a word, and went and gave it straight to the poor man who had asked for it in the first place. The ticket seller looked like he had bitten into rotten apples. Served him right.
That’s exactly what I would do – that and give him a mouthful!
So sorry about that horrible rude man Missus Tribble, some people are just so unmannered.
Indeed they are; to people like him the disabled are nothing but an inconvenience and probably not even human.
I admire you your voice and stance enormously. I love the way you tell your story, too.
I imagined every moment you described, and then his stare. I am so, so sorry you felt “ashamed” for being “cripple” and I fully understand DISABILITIES PEOPLE CANNOT SEE.
I hope he reads this blog too, every word of it.
You know, sometimes when I cross the road, I skip a couple of steps because I feel the pressure of the car waiting at the pedestrian crossing. I have only recently decided to not do that. I’m attempting to cross pedestrian crossings without the feeling I need to hurry so the car which has paused for me isn’t “held up” by me crossing the road, too long.
Ridiculous, isn’t it – and me, fully abled. Like I said, I greatly admire you.
Your comments always bring a smile to my face. I’m happy to be opening up my world to you