(I’m at the park with my young son and my best friend. As we are sitting down having lunch, a couple of attractive girls walk past. It’s summer, so they’re in skirts. Just as they are nearly out of earshot, my friend mutters to me.)

Friend: “Where’s a gust of wind when you want one?”

Son: *quite loudly* Daddy, why does Uncle Jay want the wind to blow those ladies dresses up?

(The ladies turned to look at us and then walked away with a look of both amusement and disgust whilst my friend and I laughed and I tried to hush my son.)

For several years I lived directly above a pub. It was incredibly noisy, but I loved being able to watch people coming and going. There were frequently stag dos dressed in elaborate fancy dress, such as blue body paint to look like Smurfs or mascot costumes.

Around midday on a Saturday, I suddenly heard a very loud horn blast followed by cheering from the pub. I looked out my window to see a man in a full fox costume, including a giant head and tail, sprinting down the street. He was soon followed by a yelling group of men, half dressed as dogs and half wearing tweed suits, high socks, and caps and running with children’s toy stick horses between their legs. One man carried a bugle and repeatedly blew on it as the group ran down the street after the fox, presumably going to the next pub.

(A guy on the bus throws some garbage on the ground.)

Me: “Do you really need to do that?”

Guy: “Huh?”

Me: “Throw your garbage on the ground? It’s really inconsiderate.”

Guy: “It might be inconsiderate, but think of it this way: if nobody did it, there would be no jobs.”

Me: “That’s really not true… like, really not true.”

Guy: “It might not be true, but you can see where I’m coming from.”

Me: “I really can’t. It’s just plain rude.”

Guy: “Okay, sorry about that.”

(He still didn’t pick it up, and he kept apologizing the rest of the time he was on the bus. He didn’t even use the thing he was unwrapping; he just threw it back in his bag!)

(I have a disability that is invisible quite a lot of the time but does mean that I need to use the accessible toilet when out in public. I’ve come directly from work to meet a friend for dinner and I’m still wearing my uniform. I walk through the back half of the dining room to use the restroom, passing a table of four women on the way, one of whom has a baby in her lap. This occurs a moment after I’ve sat down.)

Someone: *rattles door*

Me: “Occupied.”

Someone: *knock knock knock knock*

Me: “Yes, just one moment.”

(I complete my business and leave the stall to find nobody there. As I am finishing washing my hands, the lady holding the baby comes into the bathroom with a female manager. The female manager asks if I was just using the accessible stall and I confirm that I was. I suspect at this point I know where this was going — those of us with invisible disabilities face this nonsense regularly — but I really have no clue the turn it will take.)

Manager: “In the future, please leave that stall for those who need it. It also has the changing table, and this lady—” *points to the woman with the baby, who is silently but visibly seething* “—needed to change her baby.”

Me: “I needed it, actually.” *gives boring medical history*

Manager: *looking surprised* “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course—“

Woman: “No!  Do not apologize to her! I needed to change my baby!“

Manager: “Ma’am, she had a reason to use that stall. We—”

Woman: *sneering and turning red in the face* “THAT STALL IS FOR MOTHERS! SHE’S OBVIOUSLY NOT A MOTHER! LOOK! SHE WORKS!” *gestures toward my uniform*

(As someone who has always wanted children and can’t have them, that is enough for me, and I walk out while the manager is still trying to calm the woman down. I have to pass the table with the woman’s three friends, who stare at me as I am passing. Just as I get past the one sitting on the far side, she gets brave.)

Woman #2: “Yeah, she needed that changing table.”

Me: *completely done, stopping dead and walking back to a table of women who are now all tense and not so smug* “AND I NEEDED THE ACCESSIBLE STALL, SO MAYBE TELL THE RESTAURANT TO TAKE THE CHANGING TABLE OUT OF THE STALL AND PUT IT ON THE WALL ACROSS FROM THE SINKS!”

(I walked back to my table, where my friend jokingly asked if I’d fallen in, as I’d been gone so long and he had no idea what had happened. We paid our tab and left. Two months later, when I returned to the restaurant, the changing table had been moved out of the accessible stall.)

(I am in high school. I play basketball and often travel to different cities within my province for games. Towards the end of the season, I injure one of my knees and can’t play the end-of-season championship. I still want to travel and see my team play, but as the bus is overcrowded, and my dad has planned to come to see our games even if I am injured, I am going to make the ten-hour travel with him in his truck. The mother of one of my teammates asks my father if she and her eleven-year-old son can travel with us. My dad accepts, and we agree that we will pick her up from the elementary school where she works at 4:00 pm. At 4:00 pm, she’s not there. At 4:15 pm:)

Me: “That is ridiculous. Why is she taking so long?”

Dad: “Maybe she had some kind of trouble. Let’s wait a bit more.”

Me: “Yeah, but if she was going to take longer, she could just come and see us and tell us how long it will be.”

(This is before cell phones.)

Dad: “I know. It’s bugging me, too, but I agreed to give her a ride, so let’s wait a bit more.”

(She finally comes out of the school at around 4:30 pm.)

Friend’s Mother: “Oh, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I had to wait for a student’s mother, and then we took a few minutes to catch up. But now we just need to go to my place to get my son and our bags and we’re all set!”

(Okay, it was bugging us that we had to wait while she “caught up,” but at least it’s over. Or so we thought… Once we pull over into her parking, she says…)

Friend’s Mother: “Okay, I just need a few minutes to get our things.”

(So, we wait… and wait… Soon, it’s 5:15 pm, more than an hour after we were initially supposed to leave.)

Me: “Let’s just leave. We waited long enough.”

Dad: “That wouldn’t be nice. I’ll just go and see what this is all about.”

(And so he goes. He comes back two minutes later, visibly fuming.)

Me: “What’s going on?”

Dad: “You’re not going to believe it. Not only was their luggage not ready, but they were rooting through emails so she could find the address of her brother they’re going to stay with! They were not ready at all!”

Me: “So, we leave now?”

Dad: “No, they’re coming. They had their coats on.”

(Finally, two minutes later, they’re in, but I just cannot understand how she feels it is okay to make us wait for over an hour, when we are the ones to give them a ride. The road is long, and once we are close to our destination, we get lost, thanks to my father. My father finally figures out where we are and drives us to our hotel.)

Friend’s Mother: “Why are we going to the hotel? You need to give me a ride to my brother’s place first! It’s in [Suburb].”

Dad: “Listen, I don’t know this city very well, but I know your brother lives on the other side of town. It’s about 3:00 am, and I’m not going anywhere. Take a taxi.”

(Later, he told this story to other players’ parents and learned that she had pulled off similar stunts with most of them, so they all refused to give her any more rides. My basketball team got eliminated from the championship on the first day, so she expected us to leave soon after. My father stayed a day and a half longer and watched every game of the championship, just to spite her.)