Digging through my journal entries...here is one from 4-5 years ago. I've found a bunch of these weird writings of mine.
My boyfriend—an able-bodied 29 year old--decided to rent one
of those motorized carts during our outing to Ikea the other day. You know…those
ones that you associate with either the disabled or morbidly obese?
His reason? “I’m
tired and my feet hurt.”
So my bf saddled the motorized cart and next informed me
loudly-- in all manner of seriousness-- that he “Wanted to be the leader”.
He drove the cart around the store and I walked behind him,
occasionally stopping to look at something and ask if he would stop. I noticed
that bf was having a fantastically entertaining time on his cart—as if we came
to Ikea for that reason only. He was plowing through the store at speeds that
aroused the attention of almost every shopper present.
The store was a densely populated mess. Every nook and
cranny of the Ikea maze was packed with people, each one interested in honing
their organizational skills or looking for that perfect set of tea cups.
At one time, my bf’s immaturity level rose and he started making circles around me in one of the wider isles. His reason? “I’m testing this thing’s angular momentum”. To everyone else, his engineering inquiries looked more like the giddy nature of a 5 year old.
A few moments later, my bf saw a shelf that he was really
interested in buying, but it was tucked away, in a space that was inaccessible
to his motorized scooter. So what did he
do? He parked the scooter in front of the isle, jettisoned himself off the cart
and swiftly walked right over to his shelf of interest. Shoppers started to stare as if someone had
just committed a grave crime. “Anyone can use these carts” he said in defense “They
can’t discriminate against those of us who aren't disabled.”
During the latter half of our shopping trip my bf was
swearing at his pedometer that he had purchased earlier that day because he
“was trying to lose weight”. Sitting on the motorized cart in the middle of
Ikea, my bf says angrily, ‘Why is this thing saying that I've only burned 1.8
calories?”. “Perhaps the pedo-meter is defective or maybe your use of a
motorized cart is impacting your caloric expenditure.” I said, matter-of-factly.
I must have mispronounced the word “pedometer” because
everyone within a 12 foot radius started laughing. My bf says very loudly,
“Renee, that’s an entirely different device. You’re pronouncing it incorrectly.”
More people chimed in with laughter.
I was happy to leave the store.
