The great thing about being in a wheelchair is never waiting for the good seat. You can always look up to someone. People only look at you to check out your ride. You can act crazy and blame it on your wheelchair. People get out of your way. You get attention. You don’t have to iron your pants as much. Nor change them, for that matter. You can always have an excuse. Customized parts. You move faster than the average pedestrian. Because you’re so fucked up, you can pick your own religion. Sex is better. Smoking is almost okay. Drinking too. Better computer equipment. Hats seem to fit better. No one cares what your chick looks like. You can wear sexy clothing for the joke. Another great backup plan to skip gym. Everyone’s legs look sexy. Excuse to be driven around. Another answer to the sympathy plea. Drugs don’t seem so illegal. Most of your friends are in wheelchairs, so they can’t beat you up. Did I mention sex was better? And last but not least, people you don’t even know have to build ramps [for you] onto their buildings.
From Geist (#34). Subscriptions: $21/yr. (4 issues) from the Geist Foundation, 1014 Homer St. #103, Vancouver, BC V6B 2W9. This piece first appeared in The Slice: The Voice of Street Culture (vol. 12, issue 3).
