So after being in various stages of broken-foot-ness I decided: "eff it! I'm going to go to LA anyway!" I had planned on leaving at the end of January until early March but after January 23rd's hilarious bone-breaking, I postponed those plans. Until yesterday.
My foot has been getting better. And I've graduated from crutches to a cane. I've never felt more like a Nana, but it's nice to have a little bit more mobility. My airport experience started out positively! I got taken to the front of the customs line, was taken into a short line to go through security, things weren't so bad! I hadn't expected any of this treatment at all but welcomed the lesser amount of time struggling with suitcases and a heavy backpack. I was feeling good about things until I got to my gate.
I have to have a little bit of a serious moment here in the "Things I Learned When I Broke my Foot" blog. I broke my foot. It's an irritating injury that should last about 2 months at most as long as there aren't any further complications. This is an inconvenience at best. My heart truly goes out to those with disabilities that don't have such a laughably small window of healing-time. People who require assistance in their daily lives until further notice. In the past few weeks I have wanted to scream at the people who have done me wrong and acted rude towards me. And that's only after a few weeks. The fact that there aren't a string of murders committed by people who endure what I have and worse every day of their lives, is remarkable. My hat honestly goes off to you.
This is why I have to say the following: there are special, disabled seats at airport gates for a reason. These are there because believe it or not, DISABLED PEOPLE TRAVEL! What a novel idea! So to the able-bodied, non-injured people sitting in those seats, staring at me slack-jawed as I hobble by with my cane...GET UP! And to the people who were completely able-bodied who pushed past me to pre-board the plane with no children or any other discernible reason for doing so other than their own INFLATED SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT, I hope that you end up in a wheelchair for a week at some point. Something that will heal relatively quickly like my injury. Cause then you're gonna have a whole new outlook on what assholes you've been.
Oh and if you park in a handicapped space and you're not handicapped, I think there's a special place in hell for you. Yeah, I said it. Get over it.