“Oh, I got that! Let me make this easy for you,” she said. She did not, in fact, make this easy.
Stacey Rubin had been trying to help manual wheelchair user Brian Warth at a local coffee shop.
Warth had recently secured his drink in his wheelchair’s cupholder and started moving towards the exit. As he neared the door, Rubin saw him. She leaped out of her seat with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy and jogged over with speed and precision, avoiding spilling even a drop of her hot coffee.
“Let me help you with the door,” she told him. Warth was fully capable of opening the door and exiting on his own, but he accepted her offer out of politeness.
As she cut directly in front of him like a speed-boosted Mario Kart racer, she blocked his exit and grabbed the door. As it pulled open, she propped her foot within the already narrow doorway, keeping the door ajar but blocking Warth and his wheelchair from getting through.
“Go ahead, after you!” repeated Rubin. Warth gestured towards her foot and she realized the conundrum. “Oh, uh, um, let’s try this.”
She began a strange tango of sorts, flailing her limbs and swinging her coffee cup in large swoops before fully maneuvering to the opposite side. She leaned across the doorway and held it open with her outstretched arm, creating a sort of human limbo game for Warth to roll underneath.
He ducked down beneath her elbow, escaping the store and Rubin. Or so he thought.
As he finally crossed the invisible boundary, he realized it was only the first in a double series of doors. He and Rubin looked at the second door, and then locked eyes. A new race had begun.