22 October 2013

FEC Mobility Aids

So Archie is trying to sue FEC again (he's had some success with insurance claims for stolen cameras during his intermittent vacations in the shrink psychiatric ward). His first attempt didn't work. That's when he claimed getting stuck in the elevator brought on a recurrence of his post-traumatic stress disorder. If you ask me — no-one did — he's had PTSD all his life. He claims he suffered the original experience in Second World War combat when in reality he was a shiny pre-teen naval cadet who never got past the gymnasium exercises. Wiser heads at FEC (top of the chain of command) negotiated out of court, as they say. If Archie drops his latest suit, FEC will not counter-sue for the plate glass window in the lobby he shattered with his scooter. Anyway, his scooter battery ran out of juice on his way to Value Village and he can't remember where he left it.

It's ever-challenging for the Inmates Committee to come up with socially engaging and/or entertaining plans on behalf of the demented diverse residents. So Ms Etoile, always on the prowl for new ideas that spread universal karma, proposes closing off the street for some scooter races. A revolutionary idea for the time and place. Facing a lot of blank looks at the IC meeting, she outlines the benefits of city sponsorship, police cooperation, and neighbourhood participation. With unspecified allusions to driver education.

Right on, Ms E. We all know that Dan the anarchist got fined by our local traffic cop for careening down Front Street in the traffic lanes. At least it wasn't quite rush hour or he'd have been creamed. And Marilyn who leaves a trail of cursing pedestrians in her wake on the sidewalk. Then there's Victor who regularly cruises home in the middle of the street at pub closing time; any day we expect to hear he's been hauled to the 21 division lockup.

Therefore, IC members are having nervous visions of a race day running amok: unsteady arms, shaky vision, forgotten hearing aids, not to mention some vicious competitive instincts. OMG ... frantic hoarse white-haired harpies screaming to the finish line; crazed bald old gaffers whacking their machines and spectators alike. No satisfaction till the foe lie bleeding on the pavement.

For once, Mr OCD does not summarily strike down the concept, remaining psychopathically impassive humming a light show-tune. Ophelia looks alarmed. The secretary is awed. The treasurer looks mystified. Bella's eye is involuntarily twitching, meaning she will soon excuse herself for a calming cocktail tonic.

Lord knows Ms E would do a smashing job at creating an appealing program. In this day and age of equal opportunity, of course it wouldn't do to separate the genders. She proposes three-wheeler and four-wheeler races. Perhaps a modified NASCAR circuit around the park? Maybe invite a guest demonstration by a world-famous scooter driver. Hand out safety literature. Arrange plenty of access to battery charging. Throw in a funny hat contest. What about prizes for scooter decoration? Sponsors should come running for the opportunity ... and so on.
The IC will ponder; research report to be tabled next meeting. We cling to the redeeming notion that driver education will be involved.

Another feckless day in the life ...

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