It's our last day in Edmonton and we've had a great time thus far. I've given two full day lectures to two big rooms of people who listened, laughed and took notes. I enjoyed myself. It's nice when those things go well.
We've had a pretty good experience with accessibility too, even though we've had little time to get out and explore. But, I think most importantly, the ramps down to the hotel bar that stocked 50 scotches were perfectly pitched to send me straight there!
This morning, as Joe packs, I'm getting ready for the last of what we are doing here. I'm doing a session for self advocates on rights. Like all the talks I do, it takes organizing and it takes focus to get my mind and my manner perfectly attuned to what I am doing. So this morning when I went down to breakfast, by myself because Joe forgot something back in the room. I flew down ramp one, and then glided down ramp two. As I zipped by the bar where we heartily celebrated Joe's birthday the night before with his nephew and his lovely partner Cindy and knew that it had been a good night. But I arrived, finally at the restaurant.
It was, thankfully, a seat yourself affair. We were having breakfast a little later because we're starting work a little later and it was fuller than I'd seen it before. I began to make my way down an aisle that I'd judged wide enough for me and my chair. There were breafasters on either side of me as I pushed. I'm pretty skilled at this and usually manage with no trouble. But I kept getting distracted by thoughts of the self advocate presentation. I veered once into a woman's walker, she, unsurprisingly just smiled and moved it to the side. Then a few feet later I thought again of something I want to do differently and banged into another chair. I was like a big slow pinball banging from side to side down the aisle.
The moral to this story?
And yes there is one.
Don't think and drive.