REPUBLICAN INJUSTICE IN THE RESTROOM THE RIGHT TO BE THE RIGHT T PEE REVISITED

THE RIGHT TO BE, THE RIGHT TO PEE BY MATTHEW LUCAS BECKETT “I wish airplane lavatories had enough space for those of us in wheelchairs to use them,” I remarked to my brother after finding and using the airport lavatory after an eight hour flight. “Yes, Frank,,” Lauren agreed. “I hate to watch you suffer like that.” After picking up the car we drove to the hotel and checked into our room, which did have a handicapped accessible bathroom. “I mean, I know those lavatories are small,” I go on. “I remember from before the wheelchair, but they still ought to in some way accommodate those of us without usable legs.” “Maybe you should start a campaign, Frank,” Lauren suggested. “I'm sure others in wheelchairs feel the same.” I consider for a moment, then nod. “I think I will at that, Lauren,,” I say. “Good idea.” To his credit, my brother neither sighs nor rolls his eyes, for I have done things like this before over other handicapped issues, but since I see them every day every time I leave my bed, I cannot really help it. It is about my life and its value ,after all. But usually, when nothing happens after a few weeks, I leave off and forget about them. I am grateful to Lauren for having the tact to not point this out. This time, though, I resolve in my mind. I will see it through to completion. I start with letters to the heads of all of the major airlines and also my senators and representative. I only hear back from the last, an ultra right wing Republican from whom I expected nothing but grief, and I was not disappointed. “Dear Mr. Longoverdue,”, she wrote. “I understand your frustration with air plain lavatories, have you ever tried to do make-up in a room that small? However, government interference in private industry is NEVER the answer.” I am shocked, for nowhere in my letter had I even suggested government interference in anything. Her letter continued. “ Maybe people like you should travel by car or train, for then there is no problem about bathrooms.” “I guess she hasn't been to a truck stop in a while,” I say to Lauren's shocked face after he has read these words, they HAVE toilets with bars, but they're always so dirty unless it's an absolute emergency I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those restrooms for using it. “I guess not, Frank,” Lauren finally nods. “So what are you going to do now?” “I don't know,” I say with a helpless shrug. I had hoped my blog on the matter might have gained a few new allies for people with disabilities, either other people like me who felt the same or people who cared about us, but if so none of the new warriors have left an indication on my blog of being either, since no one has ever commented at all. “Even calling me a communist, while not at all true, would be some kind of response, but instead I have nothing at all, apart from this letter.” Ultimately, I send a response asking what truck stops she's been at, but never hear from her again, and never hear directly from anyone else at all, although government interference in private business is a theme that comes up more and more as campaigns swing into high gear, which I hear echoes of my issues in. In any case, none of my efforts seem to have much effect, so I eventually decide that I should find another way to attack this. I give this a lot of thought, and then decide to confront them with my actual person, and Lauren and I book a flight to D.C. Just my bad luck, I'm seated next to one of her big supporters and even campaigners. “And I mean, that person who wants handicapped bathrooms on airplanes,?” he raves. “I mean, can you believe the very idea. . .” “Actually,” I say. “I can. Because I am that person.” The look that then comes into his eyes makes me shutter. The sheer, unadulterated hatred. Before I can say another word, he unbuckles both of us, picks me up with one arm, although I am heavy enough and he not muscular enough that I would not have thought that possible. I scream for help, but before anyone can get to us, he carries me to the back of the plain, forces open the the emergency exit at the back, and pushes me out of it. I at first scream as I fall towards my inevitable death, but my last thought in this life is that maybe at least this act will be horrible enough to wake people up to the truth about conservative attitudes towards people with disabilities. After this thought, everything goes black, and I know nothing more in this life.