Is it illegal to dance in your wheelchair in the middle of the road?


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Apparently…yes. My latest run in with the police verified that (you’re welcome, street dancers).

I’ll set the scene for you.

Late night, quiet street, slightly high crippled chick. It was perfectly quiet, calm and serene. Except the music blaring from my phone. The street was empty. The speed limit was like 35 on that road, so I probably would have managed to get out of the way if a car had happened to come by. Ok, maybe not, but I was living life to the fullest.

I had just gotten done playing a few hours of BINGO. I had won absolutely nothing like every other time I’ve gone there, but who’s counting?

I was happy. It was my night out. I was alone, I smoked a little grass after leaving the place and was in the mood to rock and roll. Sidewalks are great for daytime wheelchair outings, but I wanted to try some dance moves with my wheelchair. You know, swerving side to side, twirling around, etc. I figured the world was my playground, everyone was asleep or filming the crazy wheelchair chick through their windows as I passed by. That, and the traffic cams, was just a passing thought as I moved my chair to the rhythm of the night. It was great. Until the suburban came…

I dutifully got off to the side of the road, but the vehicle pulled into a nearby store location and turned its disco ball on for me. Ok, so they were police lights, but it should have been a disco ball. Anyway, I’ll try to paraphrase as much as I can remember of the conversation:

Officer: What are you doing?

Me: Dancing.

Officer: In the middle of the street?

Me: Yes, but there’s no one out here. It’s perfect, I love being out at night, I was playing BINGO,  etc.

Officer: Does your husband and kids know where you are? (Apparently we had met before)

Me: They know I was playing BINGO.

Officer: What if some drunk had come down the road? There’s no way you could move fast enough.

Me: Fair point, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be a good girl and stay on sidewalks wherever they are available, but since you’re here, I need to talk to you about something else.

Officer: Go on.

Me: I’m glad that you know me (he had mentioned my husband, kids, even knew where I lived). The other day some kid yelled out “run Forrest, run” at me. It was funny, but it made me think, what if some night a few troublesome teens see me as an easy target. I need the whole police department to be kind of aware of the fact that there’s this crazy wheelchair girl who likes to go out at night.

Officer: You want us all to know you’re crazy?

Me: No, yes, well, I want you to know I’m out here, so I was thinking I should do or say something that you would tell your buddies about, and soon word would spread through the department and all the officers would keep a better eye out for me. I was thinking…You all confiscated some of my marijuana a while ago and I was wondering if I could get it back.

Officer: I wouldn’t ask for your weed back.

Me: Oh, you could sneak it out for me?

Officer: Please try to be careful out there.

It was so funny, the whole thing. Of course I was high at the time, so that helped.

In other news, I’m entering a huge poetry contest either today or tomorrow, so wish me luck!

 

 

I’m an idiot


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I can be a touch impulsive at times. Mostly times involving my independence. Today (insert flashback music here)…

Setting: Family home, me in my power wheelchair, which has been flashing an ‘error, bad cable’ message for a few days. Feeling slightly better after my sick days, with a genius idea for supper. Husband won’t be home for a while and kids about to get out of school soon. Need a few groceries.

Act 1: Guess hubby won’t be back in time to pick up the stuff. Yeah, I know there’s that error message, but the stores only a few blocks away, I can make it.

Act 2: Screw getting dressed or putting makeup on. It will just take a sec and these pjs look like regular clothes./em>

Act 3: Ok, so it’s cold and rainy. Wear a jacket.

Act 4: Riding along, being careful. Turn onto a busier street with no sidewalk. About 20 feet down..,

Act 5: Wheelchair dies.

Act 6: Helpful strangers, city workers, neighbors, police officers, fire department, dropped and rescued glove (most romance I’ve seen in years 😉 ) etc.

Act 7: I’m home, one still flashing error on wheelchair, slightly less amazing dinner being prepared…

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