The Only Person In The World With A Disability

My biggest pet peeve is a pretty simple one: rude people. It brings out the worst in me, even though my little sister says I am a bull in a china shop when I hear something I don't want to and then proceed to kill the messenger. Like when I was trying to get the new Eragon and Walmart was sold out. The lady, not realizing that I have been waiting for over a year for that book, brushed off the fact that some moron under-ordered that book and they were sold out by the time I got there, and I get up early so I was not exactly in the store at a late hour. Her blase attitude irritated me so much I wanted to rip off her head and vomit into her spinal column. She was too busy standing around gossiping to see if there were any more in another part of the store. I didn't give her Shaken Moron Syndrome, which she should thank me for, but did stalk out of Walmart telling myself that I will not waste my pennies there ever again. Alas, their cheap prices reel me in in spite of my vow to see Walmart crash and burn. Yesterday I went to Walmart to spend some pennies and look over their cheap prices of things I may not really need (like that has ever stopped me before), when I encountered a woman with a service dog. (Speaking of dogs, one of mine just let loose a stinky so I may not be too coherent for the rest of this post.) I am not one to judge anyone with a disability, being a twisted heap of gimpness myself, but this woman was so rude I had to hold that against her. First, she was blocking an entire aisle with her fat butt and cart. I said "excuse me" and she glanced at me and didn't move one fat cell to let me pass. My little sister said that maybe she was blind and that was why she had a service dog, but I know service dogs are used for more than just the blind and she was not blind, being able to see an employee and rope them in to do her shopping. I ran into her in the beauty aisle getting an employee to get her different pit juices for her to smell and see if they would be good enough for her precious pits. I was looking for pit juice for Princess and knew which one I wanted, but I had to wait for her majesty to move her fat arse to be able to get it. I gave her the stank eye for being so impolite as to not move when some one is obviously trying to get around her. She had the look in her eyes of, "I'm disabled, Peasant!" of which I think we have all seen. I'm disabled too, but I don't use it as a reason to make others my servants. If anything it makes me more determined to do it myself, thank you very little. But not her. After she found the only pit juice that she could possibly lower herself to rub on her body, she moved on to another part of the beauty aisle, near the, *gulp*, douches. I ran away with thoughts of Self-Righteous-Hag scented douches filling her meat curtains hole that effectively killed my appetite. I wanted to avoid running into her again because, believe it or not, I didn't feel I could trust myself not to say something rude and didn't want to ruin my good mood. Its rare for me to exhibit such self control and I wanted to be able to keep ahold of my tongue because it has a habit of spouting out stuff before my brain has a chance to think it through. Going through housewares, I saw her again, this time looking for vacuum bags, ordering the employee to find her the right bags. I heard her rudely say, "Either you have it or you don't!" to the unlucky employee and several tart things came to my mind. I went in the other direction. But that diabolical being seemed to have the same shopping list as me and I ran into her again in the electronics aisle where she was ordering her subjects to find her the exact extension cord she wanted. I was thinking about what I would do with that extension cord and her if we were left alone too long when our eyes met again. I'm a gimp. I think that is pretty well established. There is no mistaking the fact that I have a disability. The way I walk is very obvious that there is something wrong with me. I could discern no such disability in her, but I know that does not mean there is not one. I could get a service dog if I wanted, but I don't want, so I don't have one. My balance is terrible and I can't walk very far without some kind of support, but I try not to be rude to people because of it -- only when I meet rudeness do I respond in kind. So when her haughty eyes met mine and she saw how I was walking, I saw a glimmer of... what's the word I want here? Shame? Recognition of a kindred soul? Whatever it was, her look changed. Instead of gearing up to try and shame me for trying to get around a disabled and entitled person, she decided (wisely) to change tact and move over a millimeter for me to get by. I was ready to let loose this 3rd unlucky meeting and inform her that she was not the only shopper with a disability and maybe she needed a douche for her attitude (it needs flushing out), but she didn't take the challenge offered in my look. I passed her again later and she was being more polite to the person helping her out. I know I am not always the nicest. I know that I do not excuse disabled people the way some of them are used to. And I know that I like it that way. Don't get me wrong, I definitely have my "pity, party of one" days, but I keep to the house and don't torture others because I'm disabled. If anything, I can't stand being treated differently because of my disability and I won't treat others differently because they are disabled too. But if you want someone to make fun of you for making others get you your favorite douche, I'm your woman.