Nerds have the consumer technology tradeshow, Crips have the Abilities Expo

Saturday I made my annual trip to the promise land, otherwise known as the Abilities Expo. I love going. You know how every year Neiman Marcus puts out their Christmas catalog, its kinda like that. Just with a few “health” and “informational” booths thrown in the mix.

 I’d say there were about 300 vendors, maybe more. My only true complaint was that, among the informative booths, I only found one for employment assistance and that was a government agency. I am just a little puzzled because it feels like there are so many employment agencies out there specializing in placing different types of people, white people, black people, blondes, brunettes, nerds, aliens with green scales. It’s sad to know there doesn’t seem to be a reputable for profit headhunting service for folks like me. There are tons of disability websites that allows you to post a resume. This isn’t what I feel I need and I could be wrong, on very rare occasions I’ve been mistaken, but in my travels, I have yet to meet a headhunter who will actively seek quality jobs on my behalf.

 Then, in the midst of the crowd, it came to me. Someone here should hire me as a sexy car show girl. Y’all know what I’m talking about, those tall girls in slinky shiny short dresses that seductively lean against vehicles that spin under spotlights at car shows. I’d say 15% of the Abilities Expo was modified vehicles. Where are the showgirls? They could perch mid-ramp. Better yet, there’s a lift that raises a wheelchair. How cool would that be having a crip-chair girl 3 feet off the ground, spouting off vehicle dimensions?

 Plus this could be a very good distraction for my husband as I laughingly inquire about the price, bringing me to my next moment of painful reality. How much is this van? Not the cute speedy red convertible I drive every night in my dreams. The standard minivan with a foldable slightly cumbersome ramp in the rear, this is my mama’s mini-van. That much huh? I never knew buying a modified vehicle might have to go on my bucket list. 

Maybe I should write a letter to Santa because the isles of the expo were filled with gadgets and gizmos I absolutely cannot afford, absolutely can live without, but would definitely sell my husband for. One was the robotic arm. I didn’t even inquire about the price. What’s that saying, if you have to ask… I just saw a short demonstration, I think you can mount it either on a table or your wheelchair and program it to perform fine motor skills functions. Does it have any practical applications in my life? Absolutely not, it’s just really cool.

Then there was a tank wheelchair. I’m not kidding, it looked like a wheelchair with tank threads stuck on the bottom. Kinda like a jacked-up low rider lazyboy. For 5 minutes I thought for sure I’d die if I didn’t drive this out of the expo that day. I could use creative rationalization to argue I need this. My folks have 13 acres out in the country. This would make their whole place totally accessible, especially that one very deep rut where I may or may not have left the golf cart’s transmission. I was slapped back to reality when I accidently saw the price. Crip rule #47, your “spare” wheelchair should not cost more than your “daily” chair.

The other thing Santa could bring me is the wheelchair mount. It holds iphones, ipads, cameras, fishing poles, probably even a purse. My husband has been looking for one for years and has never found one he’d considered steady, durable, and flexible enough to buy, until this. We bickered. He said it was twice as much as he would pay as a spontaneous purchase, I thought it tripled my budget, even on a good payday. 

Sometimes it feels like as a person with a disability, in order to live comfortably, our cost of living is higher and our employment opportunities are lowered. In another words, I’m screwed. But all was not lost. There was one booth at the expo that always made me secretly feel better. I told hubby and son I’d meet them for lunch in 15 minutes to feed my stomach, before then, I’d feed my ego.

They always courted me, this one booth. I drive by and they always call me over. They tell me how pretty I am. They only do this to me, not the other 800 ladies that walk by. Just me, I know it. Because I’m just that gorgeous. They want me to join their little sorority. Of course I couldn’t, could I? But it was my duty to go by, encourage them to carry on without me and remind them they have my support.

Pass one, not even a wave. Maybe they didn’t see me. I owe them another pass by. Nothing. No courting, no offering a flyer, not even giving me the obligatory free mint. I stormed off totally offended. Now I was feeling not only unemployed and poor but ugly. I wasn’t gonna join the Wheelchair pageant circuit anyway. And they could keep their free mint. (in full disclosure, I’m just being funny. I thought an old friend was working the booth)

The touring part of the expo had come to an end and I could now drown my sorrows in a big ass BBQ potato. Luckily the expo is like childbirth. You soon forget the pain. I had a lovely morning with my boys. I did buy a cool cup holder that I’ve been searching for for eight months. And I can’t wait to do it all again next year.