We do not "do" trays

People with Parkinson’s disease do not do trays. It is that simple. And we certainly do not do trays precariously loaded with food and drink while we wander a restaurant in search of an open table at the height of the lunch hour crowd. Those of us who live in a state of constant, uncontrolled motion, know all too well that this is tantamount to “spitting into the wind.”

Yet there I was with my friend, Jo-Ann, in just such a predicament. Waiting in line to place my order, I scanned the upscale fast food restaurant and noted there wasn’t a table to be had. Many people were poised to “vulture” one as soon as its occupants stood up.

Fearful of negotiating the teeming crowd, and fighting for a table while carrying a bowl of my favorite broccoli cheddar soup, I thought about ordering something else, but stood my ground. I spilled the contents of my change purse onto the counter and fumbled to come up with the exact amount due. The impatience of those in line behind me was almost palpable, but I refused to apologize for my physical limitations.

Trays in hand, Jo-Ann and I set out to find a table. Granted, neither of us stands much taller than five feet, but this should not make us invisible to those who bumped into us as they flew by in the passing lane without so much as an “excuse me,” sending my soup sloshing over the edge of the bowl, as I had feared it would. All the stopping and starting prompted Jo-Ann to tell me she felt like “a wind-up toy.”

In desperation, I strategized that if we hovered over a table being used as a mobile office, the person might pack up and leave, fearing that our lunch would fall into his laptop computer. It worked.

Eventually, the crowd died down and Jo-Ann and I decided it was safe to get up and buy the chocolate brownie that had called to us earlier. I asked for an iced coffee as well, and the young cashier handed me a cup of hot coffee and told me to spill it over a glass of ice I could get for myself at the other end of the restaurant. We all know this was not going to happen. As much as it injured my pride, I asked the girl to please do that for me. She looked me up and down to see why I couldn’t do it for myself, but wisely said nothing and did as I asked.

From now on, Jo-Ann and I only dine at restaurants where we get served. We don’t do trays anymore.

email us directly at: Sheryl@pdplan4life.com

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