|Photo Description: An empty, three wheeled, airport luggage cart.|
The baggage cart was loaded down but I was easily able to push it, then me, it, then me, it, then me. I joined the end of the line and slowly, not more slowly than the movement of the line, moved up as space became available. There were people now joining the line behind me.
A conversation started between a mom and and dad and a young teen girl. Mom suggested to Dad that he help me with the cart. Dad said that he thought I was doing fine on my own. This let to a spat about generosity and willingness to help out. Mom thought I was struggling with the cart, Dad thought I was doing fine.
We reach the part of the line up where I have to turn the cart around to head back the way we came. I can do this, have done it many times. I grab the cart, make the turn, grab my wheels and turn in behind the cart.
The argument is getting just a wee bit louder. The teen daughter, who I can see easily now, in fact I can see the whole family because I am now facing the way they are coming, looks up from her devise and listens to her parents argument over my perceived need, and how they both saw it, and a response to that need as perceived - leave me do it on my own or go help.
Daughters eyes flit from her parents to me.
I smile at her.
She closes her eyes in utmost embarrassment.
"He can hear you, you know!" she said. Her parents stop, look at her, then over at me. "If he wanted help he'd ask you. Jeeeeeeez!"
Dad says to me, "Sorry, you good?"
I say, "I'm good."
"Jeeeeeeez!!" daughter shakes her head again.
I may have a disability but she's got parents - to a teenager, I think that might be the bigger issue.