Don’t Push Me Around

As Tammy and I joined the throng of tourists crawling the Las Vegas strip one night last week, we got separated. That’s because T’s camera is a natural extension of her hand, and when something strikes her, she lags behind to capture it. I usually push ahead, and she catches up with me.

I was crossing the street when someone started to push me. I automatically took my hands off my wheels, relinquishing control, but only for a second. Because almost immediately I realized that it was a stranger who was pushing me around.

Before I could twist in my seat to double check, I heard T descend.

“HEY!” she said, glaring down at the little Chinese man gripping my handlebars. “Let go of her. NOW!”

My pusher gave her a trembling look, let me go, and scurried ahead of us, discussing the situation in a harried, high-pitched tone with his travel companions.

“I think he’s scared of me,” T said, as he glanced warily over his shoulder at us and walked a little faster.

I smirked.

“I think he should be.”

“You want a push?” she asked.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

The lesson here? Never come up behind a person in a wheelchair and start to push them without asking their permission. It can be scary to have a stranger I can’t see take control, even if they’re just trying to help. My wheelchair is an extension of my body, so giving me a shove without asking first is essentially the same thing as randomly taking T’s camera out of her hands and snapping a few shots of your own because it sounds like a good idea. Something tells me she wouldn’t like that.