It disgusted me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it. I got into the car extremely upset and tried to just put it out of my mind. Joe noticed my upset and asked and I asked to be left alone about it. We drove to work. Feelings of revulsion ran through me. And I was mad. Flat out, down right, mad. I don't like coming to work this way. I work with vulnerable people and I want to always feel that my temper, my penchant for meanness to be completely in check. Thankfully I arrived to an empty office and time to take a breath.
Joe and I came down the elevator this morning, he was to take me to work and I was to take WheelTrans home in the afternoon. It's the first time we've scheduled the day like this but it suited our needs best. We were talking so Joe pushed the button for the basement and when the door openned we realized the mistake. Joe popped out and I rode back up to the main floor.
Now I don't understand people. When I ride on the subway people who are wanting on at a stop seem to lose any sense of the physical world. People must get off in order to create space for people to get on. It seems so simple, stand back, let others off, get on. Not only is this simple, it's what a good set of manners would dictate. Even so, people try to plow on while people try to plow off. Why there aren't more broken bones and pregnancies from subway travel I don't know.
I've noticed that the same phenomenon can happen in our building elevator. Like sometiems people in the lobby are suprised when the elevator arrives full of passengers. Wow, where did they come from? The door will open and someone will be standing right in the door way with one of those, 'What do I do now?' looks on their faces. Most back up. Many apologize. Some get inexplicably angry.
So when the door openned and an elderly gentleman of fine dress and horrid breeding stood there, right in the door, I was annoyed. It would be my luck to get this guy. I think he actually flat out hates disabled people. He certainly sees us as less than him. Once coming down the street with Tessa on her scooter and me in my chair he was angered that we took up too much sidewalk space even though Tessa braked and moved over to make room for him. He practically snarled at us. Oh me. Oh my.
He's in the door way I have to back up, THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. He snorted. Actually snorted. I felt something wet hit the back of my neck and I knew that a bit of snot had flown down and hit me on the neck. He stamped away from the door to give me room. I don't open my mouth because vomit would come out. I couldn't believe it. Maybe it was a drop of moisture from the elevator door, even though that's not happened in three years. Maybe that's it.
I park and use my gloves to wipe the back of my neck. I don't look. I just scrape my glove against my wheel and then push my way out to the car.
I have one question.
Is this cause for justifiable homicide?