He Could Have Lied

"I have something funny for you," at break yesterday in Corning a largish woman approached with a big smile on her face, "You know that skinny woman inside me, the one that wants to get out, well I keep that bitch quiet with cookies!" We both roared. It was a nice moment in a day wherein I make the point that a sense of humour keeps us sane in sometimes insane situations. After we were done we were heading up to a place in northen New York that has a name I have never spelled right, Canandagua, I think is the spelling.

Joe had everything in the car and then remembered he had to go back for something. I requested to just sit outside in the sun and fresh air while he was gone. He was cool with that. I took off my wheelchair gloves and instead of tucking them behind me like I usually do, I tucked them into the door handle of the car. The handle was the kind that you reach in and grip, so there was plenty enough room to cram the gloves in.

We got me into the car and Joe into the drivers seat and we were off to the last stop before home. I'm looking forward to home. We hit the freeway and were off. About 3 miles before our turn off, Joe pointed out the car next to us. There were two women in the front seat and a teenaged boy with Down Syndrome in the back seat. The driver was waving at us and the teen with Down Sydrome was looking over at the car and laughing so hard that we could practically hear him.

My ego responded and I said, "She probably recognizes me from one of the lectures here.

Joe gave me that "In your world you are Madonna" smile of his and said, "I don't think so."

Being convinced that he was being warned about a bad tire or something he pulled over to check. They pulled up behind us. The woman on the passenger side got out as got there as Joe discovered that my gloves had been left tucked securely in the hand grip of the back door. But the shape they were in looked like the gloves had bee positioned to give the world the finger. Something I've wanted to do every now and then, but not that day.

I heard them talking and he told me that they'd noticed it because her nephew with Down Syndrome saw it and started laughing. "He still likes that kind of humour," the woman explained, "He's a guy, he'll always like that kind of humour."

After a few seconds, Joe glanced at me and I knew something was coming.

"What?"

"Never heard of Hingsburger."