Cobblestones are the WORST. They suck, they hurt, and they are absolutely EVERYWHERE in Europe. As a passenger, your discomfort is defined by how spread apart each individual stone is. The closer they sit together, the more likely it is that you will receive an all-expenses-paid, skin-tingling, muscle-vibrating butt massage. Now, before you get too excited by this seemingly wonderful gift, I must warn you of the long term consequences of this situation.
My unprotected eyes are burning in the mid-afternoon sun. My black leggings provide the perfect disguise for the ever growing amount of swass that is pooling in my wheelchair. My mouth feels so dry, I feel like if I don’t drink water soon, I may begin to resemble the dried-up, Spongebob meme that is always making its rounds on Tumblr.
At the ripe age of 10 years old, I had the privilege of traveling to Washington D.C. with my family on summer vacation. Being the bratty pre-teen that I was, for most of the trip, all I cared about was how hot it was outside. There was a specific MELTdown at the National Archives building that I’d prefer to never think about again.
Even with sweat-induced rage pulsing through my veins at almost every hour of the day, I still managed to create one intense, positive memory.
I was not born in the spotlight, yet every time I go out, all eyes are on me. I am not a master in any given subject, but I’m often referred to as an inspiration regularly by my friends, family, and strangers. I am not famous in any sense of the word, but I’m memorable for reasons beyond my control.