START THE REVOLUTION WITHOUT ME

 

So I walked into a coffee shop the other day and, as all the available tables were taken, I sat at the handicapped table.  I took out my laptop and opened a binder of papers in an attempt to give the impression to anyone who was looking that I had important work to do.  Satisfied that everyone nearby was convinced I was working for the UN, I stood up to order my coffee.  And I swear to Jesus,  his brother, Adolph, and their three-toed sloth, Stanley, didn't this woman at the next table say - loudly enough to be heard on the MIR space station - "You know that table is for handicapped people."  

I said pleasantly (for am I not a Canadian?) "Yes, I do."

So she says "Well, you're not handicapped."  And I said "Ah, Missus, did you not see the way I walked in here?  Sure I'm bandy-legged on account of putting both of my legs into the one knicker leg this morning. The arse is ripped off me."  Well she was having none of it, for she persisted, as is the way with old biddies with bugger all else to do but pick on members of the UN.  

She said "You're taking up a table that's meant for people in a wheelchair."  I muttered "You'll be in a wheelchair in a minute if you don't leave me alone."  But she was on a roll (pardon the pun).  "You're taking up that whole table and if someone in a wheelchair comes in they'll have no place to sit."  Well, that was it.  I had had enough.

I leaned over and said "Listen.  I'm writing a speech to deliver to the United Nations on the dangers of crooked wheels on wheelchairs which will, no doubt, SAVE LIVES.  Last year alone we lost 5 people to crooked wheels when the wheels of their wheelchairs CAME OFF, sending those poor people flying into oncoming traffic.  Not only that, but the crooked wheels then rolled down the street and over the toes of 6 senior citizens who had to be hospitalized for shock, before finally coming to rest in a flower garden and MANGLING the fucking geraniums."

She stared at me in shock.  I also detected awe and disbelief.  So I - sensing that I had gained the upper hand and not wanting to waste the opportunity - said loudly enough for everyone to hear "I am on a mission to ensure that all wheelchair riders can go about their business in peace, safe in the knowledge that their mode of transport will deliver them to their destination in one piece, unscathed, and I WILL NOT BE STOPPED IN MY QUEST FOR JUSTICE!  Who's with me?"

Well, the silence was deafening.  Suddenly everyone was looking out the window.  To say that I was bitterly disappointed would be an understatement.  I was sad, dejected, downcast and forlorn.  I also felt somewhat crestfallen and woebegone.  "Right!", I said, "You can all go and fuck off!."  And I marched out with my head held high, staring straight ahead.  I tried to slam the door for dramatic effect, but it was one of those automatic doors that closed really slowly, leaving me standing outside on the street like a tool.  Then I realized I had left all my stuff on the table, so I had to sneak back in to get it.  I could swear I heard muffled laughter as I slinked out.  

And then, to add insult to injury, as I was walking away a woman in a wheelchair passed me and rolled over my foot.  

When I got home, I wrote a letter to the Secretary General of the UN telling him I quit.