Meeting of the Support Group for the Mean Spirited

MEETING OF THE SUPPORT GROUP FOR THE MEAN SPIRITED

Hello, my name is Bubba, and I'm mean spirited. It's not my parents fault. They tried to
raise me proper. It's something that just crept in and keeps getting worse as I age.

The first time I became aware of my problem, it was a really hot day at Epcot Center. We
had been waiting in a line at one of the attractions for forty-five minutes. My legs ached, the sweat
dripped off my nose, the wife was whining, the kids were fighting, and I stared ahead at the line of
200 people snaking toward the entrance.

I watched in disbelief as a wheel chair with accompanying entourage was escorted to the
front of the line and into the pavilion. That was when I realized that I was mean spirited. Well, not
exactly then, but soon afterward.

I tapped the man in front of me on the shoulder.

"Just what in the hell do they think they're doing?"

He turned, red faced, sweating profusely and responded, "What's the matter?"

"The matter! Those people. That guy in the wheel chair. Those eleven people with him.
They just crowded into the front of the line. What the hell do they think they're doing?"

"Why the poor man is locomotionally impaired. The park ushers escorted him in so he
wouldn't have to wait."

"Oh great, my feet are killing me. He gets to sit in a padded wheel chair but they escort
him right in so that I can wait out here longer."

"The man is crippled. God knows what pain and suffering he's endured. It won't hurt you
to wait a minute longer. Your just upset."

"Damn it. I'm not upset. If we miss the next seating it'll be an extra twenty minutes in
this heat. Why can't he take his turn? How about his extended family of eleven? They aren't
crippled."

Red Face turned away, feeling very embarrassed for me. That's when I knew I was mean
spirited.

* * * * *

Just a minute you guys. I'm not through. You'll get your turn to talk when I'm done.

Then it's those signs. Handicapped parking. The best places, right by the door. We can
walk from the far end of the parking lot while those places stay empty.

They've got them at the hospital right by the entrance to Physical Therapy. So what do
those people do when they get inside? They make 'em walk. Tread mills, stair steppers. They
scream in pain. Well, no pain no gain. Keep at it. Got to stretch those tendons.

Why not have the signs located at the far end of the parking lot, or better yet way down
the block so they can reap the benefits of a long walk. Might even cut back on insurance costs.

* * * * *

Don't try interrupting me. I've got more to say.

Wheel chair ramps. Curb cuts. Mandatory elevators. Extra wide doors. Handicapped
rest room stalls. What kind of a fortune do we have to spend to make a world as if we're all
handicapped?

I wanted to open a one person real estate office in the lower level of a small bank.

"Where will the elevator be installed?"

"Elevator?"

"Code says you have to be handicapped accessible. To steep for a ramp. Where will
the elevator be installed?"

"I'm going to have a bell. When the bell rings I'll have a couple of big guys carry the wheel
chair down the stairs."

"Guess again."

"I never have done business with a person in a wheel chair before. I guess I won't in the
future."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. I can see that you're not going to have an office in this
building."

See what I'm getting at? Mean Spirited.

* * * * *

I've just about had it with your people. Sit down, you'll get your turn to whine.

Letter in the paper the other day. Woman crying because she's got asthma and wants to
stop the burning of leaves. County wide. State wide. We can only burn during two months now,
and she wants to stop that.

I always believed a handicap was just that. A limitation on your life style. You've got
asthma? You spend a lot of time indoors with air conditioning and air filtration units. Not today, Boy. We all
got to limit our lives so that this person won't feel handicapped.

I have a handicap myself. I'm allergic to cats. When one is around my eyes burn and I
get all choked up. I don't ask everyone to kill their pet cat for my benefit. I don't think I have a
right to a cat free world.

* * * * *

OK, why are you looking at me like that. I don't need you. I don't need this group.
Besides I'm in a hurry, my car is outside in a handicap parking place. I hope you all get cured.

END

Story ID:	664
Written by:	Dick Dunlap (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Rockford Illinois USA
Year:	2006
Person:	Bubba Nevers