Blimey, in so many ways
So as I say, quite simply...Blimey! Has it really been nearly four months since I last wrote here. Has it really been 2 years since I was last in London. Blimey, did I used to live here and blimey am I really disabled..no, I mean like, really!
Lets deal with each of these exclaimations in turn then shall we...blogging, so you still do that then...? Yes, in a word. Well, truth be told I think of my dear blog most days in the 4 months or so since I last made a cyber-entry. Its not that I dont want to blog, in fact I often think to myself what a witty little reflection that might make on the ol' blog. But then when you make one, it needs to be quickly followed promptly by another and theb another. Servicing, then, is the key to successful blogging and frankly, im too much of a faff-meister to get round at frequent interval to publishing my pointless witterings. NB I was originally going to write twittering, but I was caught wondering whether I should do that as it has acquirred a new mwaning...Oh my G-d that last comment makes me such an old, culturally inept, bastard!
I had promised myself that I would blog everyday whilst I was staying in London at my parents house and yet, almost inevitable almost a week in, this constitutes my 1st post.
So, just to muddy the waters, lets deal with these exclaimations out of order. So I left Israel 3 weeks or so ago for holiday time back in new york, a time focused around reconnecting with nyc-based buddies and the thus far unrivaled CRO. Suffice to say that touristy-type activity was kept to a minimum in favour of good socializng matched by a high standard of eating. The one touristy-high spot was going to watch the 'Shakespeare in the Park' production of 'Twelfth Night'. Not unused to the American penchant for staggering letter-of-the-law- arse-covering anality the following incident shouldnt have come as too much of a surprise and honestly it didnt but its still a ridiculous story that I've been dining out on ever since. Settle back and I shall begin...
In an unusual moment of pre-planning I called 'Shakespeare in the Park' a few days ahead of my planned visit to clarify there 'Disabled policy'. I was told by the woman on the other end of the phone that I could stroll up to the box office around lunch time to pick up a ticket, hence by-passing the hours of queueuing endured by those silly abled-bodied folks in their quest for their free ticket. There was one thing though, the woman cautioned me, you will have to come with proof of disability.
PROOF OF DISABILITY!!??? Call me old fashioned but I tend to find that my sticks accompanied bt my quitessential waddle were sufficient. Whilst, being Israeli, I excel in ID of various types, I tried to explain that I was a tourist and didnt have any 'official' proof of my condition. I mesn the mid boggled at what they might consider proof enough: Should we perhaps count my scars I wondered? Perhaps, I should take off my splints and trousers for all of Central Park to gaup at? Maybe dribbling into a small cup might suffice?
Unpurturbed I turned up to the box-office the following Wednesday to see what would happen. Predictably, the fresh-faced young girl at the box-office deffered responsibility, telling me that without appropriate ID I would have to wait to be seen by the mananger as only she could make such a decision.
The manager was to be found managing...the queue. She told meto sit and wait the 30 minutes or so untill she would bew free to deal with me.
I sat indignantly on the bench in front of the box office checking my array of official Israeli and British documentation for any little wheelchair icon or some such...none, of course, was to be found.
Resisting the temptation to be petulent I retained my composure as the manager finally came to sit next to me. I explained my predicament as calm I could. To her credit she enquired simply 'do you have problems with stairs?' 'Yes', I answered firmly and honestly. 'Would you like one or two tickets?', she asked. 'Two, please', I said.
With that the situation was resolved.
Except that when, by the time that later on that evening my friend and I entered the audiotorium for the performance, tickets in hand, I had forgotten the manager's special instructions as to where I should enter. So instead of taking the flat way, intended fot wheel chairs I went up and then down stairs to find our seats, with the other disabled people in the very front row. Fortunately, despite all of the theatre workers being present managing the crowd as we all took our seats, I didnt see the manager. If I had she might well have asked the awkward question 'I thought you said stairs were difficult for you?'.
And, of course, they are. Difficult but not inurmountable, but who knows, given my previous experience earlier in the day, whether common sense would have prevailed.
The show, in case you were wondering was great, very funny!
Join us tomorrow for the remaining 2 exclaimations...I promise!
Lets deal with each of these exclaimations in turn then shall we...blogging, so you still do that then...? Yes, in a word. Well, truth be told I think of my dear blog most days in the 4 months or so since I last made a cyber-entry. Its not that I dont want to blog, in fact I often think to myself what a witty little reflection that might make on the ol' blog. But then when you make one, it needs to be quickly followed promptly by another and theb another. Servicing, then, is the key to successful blogging and frankly, im too much of a faff-meister to get round at frequent interval to publishing my pointless witterings. NB I was originally going to write twittering, but I was caught wondering whether I should do that as it has acquirred a new mwaning...Oh my G-d that last comment makes me such an old, culturally inept, bastard!
I had promised myself that I would blog everyday whilst I was staying in London at my parents house and yet, almost inevitable almost a week in, this constitutes my 1st post.
So, just to muddy the waters, lets deal with these exclaimations out of order. So I left Israel 3 weeks or so ago for holiday time back in new york, a time focused around reconnecting with nyc-based buddies and the thus far unrivaled CRO. Suffice to say that touristy-type activity was kept to a minimum in favour of good socializng matched by a high standard of eating. The one touristy-high spot was going to watch the 'Shakespeare in the Park' production of 'Twelfth Night'. Not unused to the American penchant for staggering letter-of-the-law- arse-covering anality the following incident shouldnt have come as too much of a surprise and honestly it didnt but its still a ridiculous story that I've been dining out on ever since. Settle back and I shall begin...
In an unusual moment of pre-planning I called 'Shakespeare in the Park' a few days ahead of my planned visit to clarify there 'Disabled policy'. I was told by the woman on the other end of the phone that I could stroll up to the box office around lunch time to pick up a ticket, hence by-passing the hours of queueuing endured by those silly abled-bodied folks in their quest for their free ticket. There was one thing though, the woman cautioned me, you will have to come with proof of disability.
PROOF OF DISABILITY!!??? Call me old fashioned but I tend to find that my sticks accompanied bt my quitessential waddle were sufficient. Whilst, being Israeli, I excel in ID of various types, I tried to explain that I was a tourist and didnt have any 'official' proof of my condition. I mesn the mid boggled at what they might consider proof enough: Should we perhaps count my scars I wondered? Perhaps, I should take off my splints and trousers for all of Central Park to gaup at? Maybe dribbling into a small cup might suffice?
Unpurturbed I turned up to the box-office the following Wednesday to see what would happen. Predictably, the fresh-faced young girl at the box-office deffered responsibility, telling me that without appropriate ID I would have to wait to be seen by the mananger as only she could make such a decision.
The manager was to be found managing...the queue. She told meto sit and wait the 30 minutes or so untill she would bew free to deal with me.
I sat indignantly on the bench in front of the box office checking my array of official Israeli and British documentation for any little wheelchair icon or some such...none, of course, was to be found.
Resisting the temptation to be petulent I retained my composure as the manager finally came to sit next to me. I explained my predicament as calm I could. To her credit she enquired simply 'do you have problems with stairs?' 'Yes', I answered firmly and honestly. 'Would you like one or two tickets?', she asked. 'Two, please', I said.
With that the situation was resolved.
Except that when, by the time that later on that evening my friend and I entered the audiotorium for the performance, tickets in hand, I had forgotten the manager's special instructions as to where I should enter. So instead of taking the flat way, intended fot wheel chairs I went up and then down stairs to find our seats, with the other disabled people in the very front row. Fortunately, despite all of the theatre workers being present managing the crowd as we all took our seats, I didnt see the manager. If I had she might well have asked the awkward question 'I thought you said stairs were difficult for you?'.
And, of course, they are. Difficult but not inurmountable, but who knows, given my previous experience earlier in the day, whether common sense would have prevailed.
The show, in case you were wondering was great, very funny!
Join us tomorrow for the remaining 2 exclaimations...I promise!
posted by Ben at 6:59 pm
2 Comments:
This comment has been removed by the author.
Hilarious... we got challenged this week with my son's wheelchair - they fought my wife when she tried to go through the disability line @ the airport security (and it makes all the difference - getting to the side w/ the more aware TSA agents helps a lot w/ Yoi's G/J tube + backpack full 'o formula). They insisted it was a stroller for a 5 year old... Yael told him he was rude and he let her past, but we were a short step of giving a tubey demo.
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