Shopping trips shouldn’t require armor, but there I was in Walmart, bracing for battle over my own wheelchair.
The confrontation started when a middle-aged man cut me off mid-aisle. “That chair would be better used by my wife,” he declared, as if I’d borrowed it from some communal mobility device pool.
When I explained it wasn’t optional equipment for me, he scoffed. “You kids always fake disabilities for attention.”
Enter Miguel, Walmart’s MVP employee, who diplomatically explained store policy. The man – we’ll call him “Entitled Ed” – wasn’t satisfied. He puffed up like an angry rooster, stepped back to make a dramatic point, and…
Crash.
Six feet of canned vegetables rained down as Ed performed an impromptu slapstick routine. The crowd that gathered wasn’t sure whether to gasp or applaud. His mortified wife mouthed “I’m so sorry” as she dragged him away.
The aftermath restored my faith in humanity: staff helped clean up, Miguel comped my cereal, and a little girl asked wide-eyed questions about my “cool car-chair.” Turns out, for every Entitled Ed, there are a dozen decent people ready to balance the scales.
