2002-07-22 - 6:50 p.m.
Man oh man, did I need yesterday. I try to avoid depressing subjects in this diary because I don�t want to hurt morale among my minions (I mean, if morale sinks too low and they start neglecting their duties I might have to start killing them in large numbers and that would just depress morale even further), but to be honest, the generally shitty state of the world has really been getting to me lately. Terrorists plotting more attacks, kids being snatched from their front yards and murdered, kittens being roasted on barbecue grills, corporations imploding under the weight of their management�s incompetence, our government training its citizens to spy on each other ... bleh.
Why the fuck do I want to rule this world anyway? Maybe I should just blow it up instead.
So yesterday I did what any good American would do when he�s feeling down: I went drinking.
(The rest of this entry was posted this morning on a listserv I subscribe to, so if you�re reading this and you�re on that listserv, feel free to call it a day.)
There are only maybe three bars in this town that I feel comfortable at (i.e., reasonably wheelchair-friendly, good beer selection, decent jukebox, not a meat market, not overrun by fratboys, not in Pacific Beach, etc.), and so I�ve gotten to know them pretty well. One of them, the Whistle Stop, just re-opened a year or two ago after being closed for most of the �90s, and has since become quite popular as a sort of bar-for-people-who-don�t-like-bars.
Anyway, I went there yesterday afternoon. On Sundays during the summer this place sets up a barbecue out front and has a dj friend of mine spinning records inside. I drank beer, saw a few friends there, got bbq sauce all over my shirt, and just generally chilled out and had a good time yesterday.
At one point, finally, the owner of the place (whom I�d seen a million times but never actually met before) came over and introduced himself. We chatted for a bit, and then he said, "Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?"
"Depends on what it is." (In my case, the "Can I ask you something?" gambit could lead to virtually anything. "Doesn�t it hurt your balls to sit all the time?" is still the champion.)
"I was just wondering what you thought of the ... accessibility ... here?"
As dive bars go, the accessibility is very good, and I said so. There are no stairs anywhere, and I can actually use the bathroom, which is key. The only complaint I have about the place is that the tables and chairs are all pub-height, which makes it awkward to socialize. (You may think staring into people�s splayed crotches constantly would be a bonus, but it gets old fast. No, really, it does.)
It turns out that someone else who uses a wheelchair had come in recently and had the same complaint, and the owner is thinking of adding some lowered tables, or at least getting some portable ones to have available as needed. Since he knew I came in there often, he�d been looking for the chance to ask me if I liked the idea.
That made me feel good. The fact that someone is actually decent enough to think about that sort of thing, without being threatened with a lawsuit, made me hate humanity a little bit less. And the fact that he thought I was worth asking made me feel that, maybe, I wasn�t having a complete non-impact on the world around me after all.
This week is already shaping up to be much better than the last one.
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