Why I Do It  - Not too funny, but it needs to be told.
He's So Lifelike! - Do I seem that stiff?
At the Movies - Is it just me, or is there something wrong with this picture?
Is He Finished With That? - My primary pet peeve.
Infiltrating Blockbuster Video - What it takes for a quad to rent a video.
Going Down with Ruthie - Was it a fantasy, or just a bad dream?

Why I Do It
When I was out at Craig Hospital in Colorado doing my rehab, they used to encourage us to go on little excursions around town. One favorite place to go was the Denver Mall. On one such excursion, I was at the mall with my parents and some old friends of theirs from back home, who happen to live out there now.

We had just gotten inside the mall, and we were getting settled to make sure we had everything. I was still weaning from the respirator, but could go most of the day without it. Also, I didn't have my power chair yet, so I was being pushed around in a manual chair. As everyone was getting ready to continue, I noticed a little girl looking at me from across one of the mall's courtyards. Now, kids stare at me most of the time, and I'm OK with that now, but back then I was still sensitive to it. But that's not what bothered me this time. The woman with this little girl, who I assumed was her mother, nodded at me as she was saying something to her. Being around people with tracheas, you start to get the hang of lip reading. Combined with that, and being able to practically hear her, I'm pretty sure that woman said to that little girl, "That's what happens to bad little girls and boys who don't listen to their parents."

I couldn't believe it! How could someone tell a child something like that? Besides being a lousy parent, this woman was teaching her child that disabled people are, in some way, bad. No wonder people are afraid to approach me. There are idiot parents out there who are teaching it to their kids. Unfortunately, I couldn't go over to her and tell her the truth—in the condition I was in at the time, without voice, I probably would have ended up scaring her more.

I believe that was the day I decided that I needed to do as much as possible to re-educate people; from children up to adults. That's why I speak in classrooms, from elementary school up to college. That's why people can approach me anytime with any questions, and I'll answer them, no matter what they are. And that's the purpose of this web page; to reach as many people as possible, and, hopefully, show them that people with disabilities are just like everyone else. That's my goal, and by reading this, you're helping me make it possible. Thank you!

He's So Lifelike!
One day I was at the mall with a friend of mine doing a little shopping. We were in a department store, and my friend was checking out the clothes racks while I waited. The racks were pretty closely packed together, making it very difficult to get between them, so I just waited in the aisle while she browsed. I was just sitting there, as still as a quadriplegic gets, watching her, when out of the corner of my eye I see this woman coming around my right side from behind. I still didn't move, but I could see this woman getting closer and closer, until she was less than a foot away, blatantly staring right at me. I let this go on for a minute, still not moving, until I finally turned my head to her and said, "What?!"

Well, this woman must have jumped back about three feet with this look of complete astonishment on her face. She was truly startled.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

"I- I'm sorry," she stammered, "I thought you were a mannequin!"

It was all I could do to keep from laughing in her face. I'm thinking, "So, when did they start putting mannequins in electric wheelchairs?" This was before the days of the American Disabilities Act and political correctness, so they didn't even have mannequins in manual wheelchairs.

With I grin I replied, "No, I'm not. I'm what you call ‘dis - a - bled.'"

Well her face was beet-red, but I couldn't help it. She apologized again and went back to her shopping. Interestingly enough, this wouldn't be the last time I would be mistaken for an inanimate object. Mmmm, maybe I need to work on my personality!

At the Movies
In the community where I live, there is a particular movie theater that had these little handicap "corrals." The disabled were kept in these corrals during the movie, so they didn't get in anyone's way or bother anyone. They were basically little walled-in areas at the back of each theater with no seats (presumably, the disabled don't have anyone to sit with). Well, on one occasion I not only showed up with one friend, but three. After the theater staff got over their initial shock, they offered my friends these little folding chairs on which to sit. Two hours later, I could see that my friends didn't look too comfortable, and when the movie finished, they confirmed that these chairs were the worst on which they've ever sat.

The next time I went to this theater, I went with my friends, Wit and his wife Sue. Sue was about eight months pregnant at the time, so I didn't want to subject her to the tiny, uncomfortable chairs of the handicap corral. I also did not want only Wit to sit with me, leaving Sue alone, and I didn't want to sit in my designated area alone, while Wit and Sue sat in the "normal" seats. So, I opted to sit in the aisle, right next to Wit and Sue. I was very careful where I parked the chair; as close as possible to the other seats so I wasn't blocking the aisle, and not up too far or back too far. This way, people could easily get in and out of the row I was in and the row behind me. Also, we were in the back, so I was careful not to block anyone's view.

After the movie was over, I was waiting for all the other movie goers to exit the theater, when I noticed that someone pulled Wit aside. This actually isn't uncommon, as people often did this to ask Wit about me, or discuss some other disability issue. After the theater was pretty empty, I started to maneuver out when Wit came back and informed me that the manager of the theater had a problem with where I was sitting. Now, usually I don't set out to cause trouble (honestly, I don't), but I must have been in the mood, because I just had to have it out with this guy. With Wit and Sue standing in the background, far out of harm's way, I rolled up to this guy and said, "Excuse me, I understand that you have a problem with where I was sitting."

He looked at Wit, then at me, and hesitantly said, "Yes sir. Where you were sitting, you were blocking the aisle and were a fire hazard. We do provide areas for you to sit."

I simply smiled and said, "First of all, if you ever have a problem with me, I'd appreciate it if you'd come directly to me, and not drag my friends into it."

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I didn't think you could talk."

Now I'm looking at him with this look of amazement on my face. "Did you try to communicate with me?" I asked.

"Well, no, I didn't." he replied.

"Don't you think you should have tried to talk to me before you made that assumption?" I asked, trying my hardest to make him feel as incredibly stupid as his original statement.

"Well, yes, I guess I should have." he said with a look of defeat on his face.

"Yes, you should have." I said. I could see he was injured, so I decided to go in for the kill. "Secondly," I said, "the last time I was here, my friends were in pretty bad shape after sitting on those little chairs you provide." Nodding to Sue I said, "There's no way I was going to ask her to sit on one of those. I wasn't going to ask her to sit alone while Wit sat with me, and I didn't want to sit alone either."

"Yes, I understand, but...," he started to say.

"Furthermore," I interrupted, "I made very sure that I wasn't blocking the aisle and being a ‘fire hazard.' There was plenty of room to get by."

"But there are codes we have to follow!" he retorted.

"I know all about the codes, but if you don't have suitable seating arrangements, what else should I do?" I asked, starting to get a little pissed. "And don't tell me again about that area again. Those seats are terrible!"

"Well," he said, "next time come and find me, and I'll make sure the seats are more comfortable."

Now I was really getting feisty, "Why do I need to come find you when I want to watch a movie. Do you seat everyone? You need to get some better accommodations."

"I understand, but you really can't sit in the aisle." He said.

Finally I said, "Listen, until you do something about your little area over there, I think I'll be sitting in the aisle. Are we through here?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Thank you." I said smiling, "Now you have a good night."

"You too." He said, I'm certain completely happy that our conversation was over.

Now, I'm not saying I had anything to do with it, but since then, the handicap corrals are gone, and the seating for wheelchairs have greatly improved. Score one for the quad!

Is He Finished With That?
The company I worked for used to have an annual off-site meeting. One year we had it at Longwood Gardens, which is a local attraction featuring - what else - gardens; big, beautiful gardens. The plan was to have our meeting in the morning, have lunch at the garden's restaurant, then enjoy the gardens for the rest of the day.

At lunch, our waitress went around the table, asking each of us if we were having the vegetable or fruit salad—except for when she got to me. She asked the person to my right, Kathy, "Will he be having fruit or vegetables?"

Now, if there's one thing I can't stand, I mean absolutely hate, it's when someone talks past me, about me, as if I wasn't there. I mean, this lady wouldn't even look at me. Poor Kathy just looked at me like, "Why is she asking me what you want to eat?"

Well, I just let her slide. I looked at her straight in the eye, smiled, and said, "I'll have the fruit, please." I figured that by talking for myself, she'd realize, "Hey, the poor cripple can speak!"

Unfortunately, though, it just didn't sink in for this woman. After a while, she came back to collect the salad dishes, and upon getting to me, she looked strait at Kathy and said, "Is he finished with that?" Once again, Kathy looked at me like, "Can you believe this woman?!" And once again I looked directly at the waitress and said a little more sternly than the last time, "Yes, I am finished with that, and I would appreciate it if you would address me directly from now on, and not the people around me."

Well, she must of felt about three inches high, and could not apologize enough. She asked me my name, and upon telling her, she introduced herself—I think it was Mary or something. From that point on, she was just dying to address me directly. I mean, it was just like we were buds: "How is everything George?" "Great Mary, thank you." "Do you need anything else, George?" "No Mary, I think I have everything I need." "Well, you just let me know if you do, George." "Thank you Mary, I will." Etc., etc.

Everyone else in my department was looking at me like, "Now what are you up to?!" When Mary walked away, my manager asked me, "Do you know her?" I said, "Oh yeah, that's Mary. We're tight... Actually, we just met..." Kathy was just looking at me, shaking her head and cracking up.

I really hope that Mary learned a little life lesson that day. Somehow, however, I have the feeling that the next severely disabled person she waits on won't be addressed directly until she's told about it again. I think I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, though, and won't place the same intelligence limitations on her, as she placed on me.

Infiltrating Blockbuster Video
Every few months, I go out with a couple friends from work, Chris(tine) and Diana. We usually go out to dinner after work, and sometimes catch a movie also. This time, however, after dinner, we decided to rent a movie and go back to Chris' house since her husband was out of town.

We swung by the local Blockbuster video, and, while Chris was renting the movie, I decided it would be a good time to get a video card of my own. Diana was nice enough to help me fill out the application. As we were walking to the counter, she informed me that I needed a driver's license. We just laughed about it, saying that we were sure they'd let me slide on that, for obvious reasons. Well, we get to the counter and Diana handed the application to the teenage girl behind the counter. Sure enough, the girl asked Diana, "Does he have a driver's license?"

Diana knows I hate being talked over and, pointing to me, said, "Don't ask me, he's sitting right there."

Ignoring the video girl's transgression, I smiled and said, "No, I don't have a driver's license, but I do have a credit card."

Obviously uncomfortable, video girl replies, "But you need a driver's license to get a video card."

"Well," I said, "we're going to have to do it without one, because I don't have a driver's license. I do have a credit card. If that's not enough, I also have a college ID, a Social Security card, and if you really need it, my work ID is out in my van."

"Mmmm, I'm going to have to get the assistant manager. We really need a driver's license." She said as she walked away from the counter.

Diana and I just looked at each other, shaking our heads and smiling. Meanwhile, Chris found the movie and was getting in line to rent it. "What's up?" she asked.

"Good thing you have a video card." I said, "I'm having a little trouble getting one."

A moment later, what seemed to be the assistant manager returned to the counter. He looked to be about seventeen, and a little scared. "Hi," he said (I think his name was Bob), "Can I help you?"

"Sure Bob," I replied with a smile, "you can give me a video card."

"I'm sorry," he said, "we really do require a driver's license."

I said, "Do I really look like I need a driver's license?" Then I proceeded to tell him about all the alternative identification I had with me.

"But we need a picture ID." He said.

"Great," I replied, "my college ID and my work ID both have pictures on them."

"But they need to be state issued IDs." He retorted.

"Bob," I said, starting to get a little annoyed, "I'm not trying to get access to the Pentagon, I'm trying to get a lousy Blockbuster card."

"I know, but you can't get one without a state issued picture ID. The computer needs it."

"Bob, first of all, I'll never need any other ID than what I already have-I'll never get a driver's license. Second, I know that you can get around it in your system. I know a little about computers. Do you mean to tell me that if you're unable to drive, Blockbuster won't give you a card?"

Persistently, he replied, "You can go up to the Department of Motor Vehicles, and they can issue you a 'non-driver's' picture ID."

"There's no way that I'm going all the way up to the DMV to get an ID, just so I can rent a movie at Blockbuster Video."

"Well, I don't know what we can do then..."

"I'll tell you what you can do Bob." I was pretty hot now. "You can go over to the computer and do whatever it takes to get me a video card, because I'm not leaving without a video card."

"O-OK," Bob stammered, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!"

Bob wandered over to the computer, and as he was putzing around with that, Diana, Chris, and I in total disbelief about what I had to go through to get a video card. Even though I was pretty annoyed, we just stayed at the counter and joked at Bob's and Blockbuster's expense.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, Bob returned and announced, "OK, it took some doing, but I got you into the system without a driver's license, so I can give you a card."

I had cooled down a bit and said, "Thank you Bob. I really do appreciate this, and I don't mean to take it out on you, but you really need to speak with your manager, or home office, or whatever, and get this system changed. This is ridiculous. What happens when someone like an elderly person can't make it to the DMV to get a picture ID? Does that mean they can't rent a video?"

"Well," replied Bob, I don't think that they'll be able to change the computer system. That would be really hard to do. And that's why I said you can get a non-driver's photo ID at the DMV. After all, you need a photo ID for other things, don't you?"

I didn't feel like arguing with this kid anymore, so I just said, "Guess what Bob; I just purchased a house, got Homeowner's Insurance, and obtained a mortgage, all without a driver's license or a non-driver's photo ID. And, as I said, I work with computers every day, and it would be very easy to change the system. Please tell someone about it."

"OK, I will."

Chris, Diana, and I left with our video, and I with my shiny new video card. We laughed about it that night, and this story has been a source of humor for quite a few people since then. The thing I regret is that I never wrote a letter to Blockbuster to let them know about the problem I had. I kept meaning to, but never got around to it. The funny thing is, I've never used that card, and so it still hasn't been activated. Someday I'll try, and I'll be sure to write the story about it.

Update: I've since been back to Blockbuster, and had absolutely no problem renting a video. To active my card, the clerk did ask me for a driver's license, but when I explained that I only had a college ID, she happily accepted it without any more discussion. In fact, she was very helpful and courteous. There was no sign of Bob.

Going Down with Ruthie
Let me start this story off by saying that Ruthie is a very good friend of mine. I don't really consider what happened as stupid, but I just can't ever let her live it down. That's understood between us. Even after treating me as she has, we still remain friends. In fact, she still sends me dirty jokes. Now, on to the story:

I was taking a Visual Basic course at college that consisted of a lecture on the second floor during the first half of the class, then a lab period on the first floor for the last half. We had a group project, and I was teamed with Ruth and Kimberly. When it was time to go downstairs to the lab to work on our project, Ruth and Kim told me that they'd meet me down there, because they wanted to stop at the vending machine first. I told them that would be fine, but asked if they'd push the elevator button for me first. They said it would be no problem (or so I thought), and we proceeded to the elevator.

Ruthie asked, "Do you need me to go down with you?"

I told her I'd be fine, and if she would just push the button for me, I can get out when it stops at the first floor. I've done it plenty of times before. Well, she pushed the button to call the elevator, held the door until I got in, and asked again, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Once again, I assured her I'd be fine and not to worry about it. I was going to add, "Just make sure to push the button," but thought, "I don't need to tell her that." With that, Ruthie let the door close, and there I was, sitting in a motionless elevator car. I said to myself, "Oh my God, I guess I did have to tell her that."

Well, I spent the next five or ten minutes of my captivity planning how I would thoroughly abuse Ruthie once I regained my freedom. Finally, I felt the elevator begin its descent to the first floor. When the doors opened, I heard Ruthie and Kim saying things like, "Oh my God, he was in there the whole time?" and "Why didn't it come down?"

Then Ruthie asked, "What happened?"

"Well Ruth, it works a lot better, if you push the button!"

"Oh my God! Didn't I push the button?"

"Yeah Ruth, ya did. I just stopped it so I can have some alone time."

Well, needless to say, she felt horrible about it, and apologized repeatedly. I was never angry or upset about it, but felt it was my duty, if not my God-given right, to never let her forget about it.