Like a movie, sometimes interesting and entertaining scenes have to be cut from a book for any number of reasons. I’ll share a few of the scenes I cut from Enjoying the Ride, beginning with this one, where we go to watch a Patriots game at Gillette Stadium.

When we arrived at Gillette Stadium, I extended the ramp, exited the van, and went into balance mode – the iBot equivalent of stretching my legs after a long drive. While the others unpacked and set up, I surveyed the large handicapped parking lot that sat in the shadow of the stadium. I got the sense that most of the vehicles in this desirable parking area didn’t contain any disabled people at all. Yet, because many disabilities, including some manifestations of MS, can be invisible to the naked eye, I couldn’t know who the cheaters were. So I gave the issue no further thought as this day was all about feasting and fun.

Shortly before kickoff, we joined the throngs of people headed toward the stadium gates. On the way, I took a detour to the bathroom. As I approached the handicapped stall, I noticed the door was closed, but I couldn’t be sure if anybody was inside or not. So I reached forward and gently pulled on the door. It opened a few inches. Immediately, an individual who shall be known henceforth as the asshole, shouted “Jesus Christ!” He got off the toilet and slammed the door. Then he yelled at me, “Thanks a lot!”

Oh boy. Game on.

Let’s review. First, this non-handicapped person occupied the only handicapped stall in the bathroom. Some of my disabled brethren have no sympathy for healthy people who use our stalls under any circumstances. I take a softer position. I only feel wronged if someone uses the handicapped stall when there were other stalls he could have used instead. In this case, every urinal and stall had a waiting line.  So, if not for his other transgressions, I would have waited patiently.

Second, the asshole sat down on the toilet without latching the door. When you do that, and someone opens the door, then you smile sheepishly and say, “Oops. I’m sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” But not him. The asshole yelled at me without justification. I’m a calm and understanding person, but that sets me off like nothing else. He acted as if it was my fault he had failed to latch his door.

I positioned myself so he would have to be deaf and blind (no offense to my deaf or blind friends) to not realize the person he had lashed out at was a wheelchair user who only wanted to access the handicapped toilet.

I responded to his “Thanks a lot!” in my most forceful and sarcastic tone with, “You’re welcome!”

There was silence, and I have to guess, some amount of mental backtracking by the asshole.

I folded my arms, stared straight at the door, and prepared a blistering speech in my head. But this moron did what most of them do when confronted with irrefutable evidence of their ignorance. He slithered away without making eye contact, and so quickly I couldn’t get a word out before he disappeared. I hope I ruined his day, but I doubt I did.

The Patriots beat the hated Jets 30 to 21. Yea! It was a wonderful outing – perfect weather, great friends, the electric atmosphere of an NFL rivalry game, and a home team win. But when seventy thousand people funnel out of a stadium all at once, it can become intense. I find it best to be in balance mode in these instances. Otherwise, my face is at ass level, which can be unpleasant. Also, in standard wheelchair mode I cannot see above the crowd, creating a helpless and claustrophobic feeling.

When I’m in balance mode in a situation like this – broad, flat, crowded concourses – everyone else moves in jerks and fits, but I glide along. It’s as if the floor is made of ice, and I’m the only one wearing skates. I am gawked at and revered no less than if I were a figure skater in a sequined costume, executing triple lutzes in perfect sync with the music playing only in my head.

Sometimes, though, in the helter-skelter of a mass exodus like this, the music stops. While I traveled with the crowd, another guy walked against the flow and cut from left to right. Full of myself, I may have skated too aggressively for the conditions. I hit him hard on the shin with my foot pedal. He shouted, “Ouch,” immediately followed by “I’m sorry.” I started to apologize, but before I could get the words out, he had vanished in the mob.

I encounter a lot more people like the second guy (who instinctively blamed himself) than the asshole (who instinctively lashed out). If this weren’t the case, then I wouldn’t enjoy leaving the nest and venturing out into the real world as much as I do.