The day before leaving for World Horror Con, I managed to do something to my ankle, a something that REALLY slowed me down. I could put weight on it, and shift from side to side, but the tendon screamed at me whenever I tried to press down with the foot. Just getting out of bed that morning was agony, and I had a bunch of chores that I needed to do before the trip. Fortunately my wife has a small collection of canes that she uses for costumes, and I grabbed one with a nice skull-head on it as I hobbled out the door.
The first thing that I discovered was that with one foot out of commision, you can't walk. Period. What you knew as walking suddenly becomes something that you sit on the sidelines and watch other people do as they shoot past you. I learned to keep the cane on my good side and lean on it when I lifted that foot off the ground, so I could do something besides lift my bad foot up and set it back down again. That was how I got to the car and drove to the store.
Second lesson, you now have one arm to use, because the other is permanently holding the blasted cane. Even if you're standing still, you have to hold it in your hand. If you set it leaning against something, anything, it will fall. I learned that lesson more than once. This made getting around in the store while holding a small basket for the few items I wanted a damned joke.
Finally I had everything except some sugar-free candy. I wanted to be able to use my Stranger shirt on everyone, and if someone didn't, or couldn't, eat sugar, I wanted to be ready with an alternative. I looked in snacks, crackers, everywhere I could think of, before asking for help.
This was the middle of the afternoon, and there weren't a lot of store employees around, so I went up to the front. As I slowly hobbled up there, the lady at the service desk noticed me and we made eye contact. It was obvious where I was headed, and you know what she did? She turned her head and looked down at her feet. A few minutes later when I got up there, she was very polite, and told me that the diet candy was on an aisle where they displayed all the rest of the diet food. As she came around to show me where it was, she said, "This way" and took off like a shot. I watched her leave me behind without even looking back.
I did follow her, and she was waiting up the aisle. I picked a cherry-pomegranate flavored hard candy, popped it in my basket, and made the long trip up to pay and leave.
No harm, no foul, right? Except that look she gave me sticks in my head. It sounds silly to say it, but I made her uncomfortable by being unable to walk. I used to work in retail, and I've had a few handicapped customers. You be polite, professional, and you keep your game face on. You sure as hell don't pretend that a woman in a wheelchair can get through a narrow space, or that a dwarf can reach the top shelf. If you're not sure, ask.
I got through the con just fine, except for dropping my cane a few thousand times. I even encountered a woman in the lobby, also using a cane, and both of us headed to the dealer's room. So naturally, I asked her if she wanted to race. I can walk just fine now, and wondering where I can fit the experience in something I write.
On another note, this latest delay in finishing Roja is all my wife's fault. She and I were talking at dinner the other day, and the subject of silly phrases came up. She popped out, 'The Necromancer of Kitty-kitty,' and wondered if that would be a good title for something. (she writes too) I am now three pages into the first draft of it. Damn you, my love.
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