The Grinch strikes back

No, I’m not angry because of all the other drivers out there, clogging the roads so that it takes me an hour and a half to go 15 miles. No, I’m not ticked that someone dropped the ball in organizing an event and now I have to reconstruct an entire month’s work. Even the solicitor who abjectly ignored the “NO SOLICITING” sign hasn’t ruffled my feathers that much. And I’m only mildly fuming because my mother has decided not to move after all, despite all the effort that so many people have put into the move.

Nope, I’m angry because I picked up the paper to see this:

MIKE SIEGEL / THE SEATTLE TIMES

Yes, that is the checkin counter that I will be using in ten days, and yes, those are hundreds of latex balloons arching gracefully over it. They might as well herald the arrival of this new era of flight by building a shrine to it, with no ramps for wheelchairs.

I’m angry because I’m so very tired of having to explain my latex sensitivity over and over to people who ineveitably respond, “Oh, gee, I didn’t know it was that bad!” or “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you had that allergy” or “The Health Department says we have to wear these gloves.” I’m tired of walking into Trader Joe’s and having to turn tail and leave. I’m weary of having to leave kids’ birthday parties. And if that’s not enough, now I need to take on the airlines just so I can check my bags in a public space. This action will open myself to the derisive attitudes of the uneducated, the same ones who make snide remarks about peanut-free school busses.

I take some solace that I am not alone in all this. There is ample precendent set by those brave women who champion for their kids to be able to attend school safely, and a handful of them, met online, are cheering me on. So watch out: I’m drafting letters, gathering phone numbers and then I’m going to go tilt at balloons.