For awhile I thought that my trip to Thunder Bay would be cancelled. But we managed to make our way through the snow, into the clouds and finally into sun. The flight was packed went without incident.
In the terminal my chair just died. The front wheel wasn't rolling anymore. It was tough. We finally got a rental car and went straight to a wheelchair repair place. At first I thought I might just buy a new chair. I'd been planning to anyways. When I asked about chairs, one of the staff, asked, loudly in a crowded store, about my finances and about being assessed for benefits. I know that I could get benefits but I needed the chair now. But I was stunned. Everyone looked at me, clearly waiting for me to answer.
Um, isn't that a little private?
Um, isn't that no one's business?
Why would it be ok for her to ask questions from a stranger that she'd not tell her friends. I was repulsed.
They fixed the chair, but only after I told them my name. Why did they need to know my name in order to fix the chair? When did my life become public in this manner.
On the way back to the hotel where the conference was held I saw a strip bar called 'private i's' that had gone out of business.
Well my 'I' is just fine and I refuse to have my privacy stripped away.
And I won't ever do that kind of thing to someone with a disability ever again.