Buttermilk Please

It is getting more and more difficult living with myself! I am finding I am having difficulty being round certain classes of people which greatly offends me and I don’t know quite what to do about it and this feeling is not that I think I am any better then these folk it’s just am having problems just being round them.

This weekend was Anakah’s dance recital and I sort of went off on class the class thing there but the recital was nothing compared to going out to eat afterwards. The recital was at 10:00 and the kids had not got any breakfast nor had Dianne and I ate around 8:00 a.m.. So after the recital we decided to celebrate by dropping by the local Denny’s for breakfast or any of their other anytime meals.

Perhaps it is because when Dianne and I usually go to Denny’s it’s for breakfast at a breakfast time, anytime before 10:00 a.m. People are , for the most part cheerful, cordial and even if waiting is encountered the waiting is OK. And again, maybe it’s just me but after time the people I run into at my local Denny’s are folks who for one reason or another could not rise early to have breakfast when the good folk have breakfast. Thee folk look gruffer and just a little bit frightening. There is always a line by then sometimes a long line with kids screaming and crawling round my wheelchair touching this and asking that and making me just want to scream. The Denny’s we go to has very little waiting area which means I am always in somebody’s way usually a waitress. This Denny’s does not have an accessible bathroom which is complete blog posting all by itself. I bet we frequent this Denny at least once a month but each time I seem to cause chaos among the staff as what to o with the guy I the power wheelchair. Well, this table do, or would that table be better how bout a booth? Just sit me.!! Even after all of that we end up pushing two smaller tables together and every time this solution seem to work just fine. Then I always ask for buttermilk—just to drive them crazy. No one knows, if the waitress get this terrified look on her face and runs back to the kitchen to check only to return to report “no, we don’t have butter milk.” My game is that one time management will realize that maybe we should keep a quart of buttermilk round for that old guy in the power chair. I figure if I ask long enough one day they will smile and bring out a class of the white sludge.

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Like I said if I can be there before the dreaded 10:00 hour it’s not so bad just me/we and the other working guys and Seniors and truth be-told if I show up there later it’s because my early Alzheimer’s has conveniently erased and or how bad the last experience was and the promise of yet another delightful calorie and cholesterol infested offering code named “grand slam “ something or other., overides my common sense as I scoot up to the table as far as I can and cheerfull ask the waitress…” I’ll start off witha buttermilk please.”