Pizza with Mozzarella and Tomato

I like going every now and then to a pizza restaurant, but all the things I like doing require much organization as a result of Parkinson’s. When I wish to go out with my friends to eat a good pizza I have to send someone before to the restaurant to make sure that my wheelchair would get through the entrance doorway.

He must also check that the table is in a suitable position so the wheelchair can get close enough to the table. This will ensure that I shall sit comfortably. I prefer that there is a wall at my back otherwise the talking behind me would not allow me to hear who is talking in front of me.

On one special occasion, after we had made sure that everything was okay, I reserved a table. We all got into the car with my wheelchair in the boot and we anticipated a pleasant treat for all of us. We deserved it, because it didn’t happen that often.

When we arrived at the restaurant we started the usual procedure of getting me out of the car and into my wheelchair. We made sure the belts were firmly fastened. We then headed for the entrance of the restaurant. Our first surprise was that the wheelchair just could not get through the entrance doorway. After many attempts to get through, the only solution was that I had to get up, so the wheelchair could be folded. To do this I needed two “giants” that could lift me up and hold me standing for the time necessary to get the wheelchair through the doorway and behind me. Then I could be seated again and like they say “all is well that ends well”. But I had not imagined what lay ahead of me.

One by one all the customers turned their heads to see what all the noise was about. As I slowly proceeded towards our table I heard the voices quite clearly. They were saying “He is so young…, so tall…, so handsome…, what a pity he’s in that state”. I heard it all and like the “three monkeys” I pretended to hear nothing, to say nothing and to see nothing. With the last I did not have to pretend as I have no sight.

The tables were very close to one another and to get to our table we forced many people to get up and move aside. I almost felt like a VIP. To complicate things we found the legs of the table were too narrow and the wheels could not get near. I was obliged to eat my pizza half a meter away. This I saw as an occasion to enjoy myself so I made as if I was having a picnic.

At long last the waiter arrived to take the order. He asked one by one what we had decided to eat. When it was my turn to speak he looked at Marta and said, pointing at me: “What shall I bring for him? I immediately adopted my three monkey method and I said as loud as I could “I would like a pizza with tomato and mozzarella, thank you”. He looked eyes wide at me, surprised, wrote down our order and disappeared. This Marta told me afterwards.
When we all finished we ordered ice-cream. In the meantime I must have become transparent, because as before the waiter looked at Marta and pointed at me: “What shall I bring him?” Evidently I was really transparent. I took a deep breath and as loud as I could, I answered: “A chocolate ice-cream, please”: This time he did not even look up from his notebook. His face turned red, he wrote the order and almost ran away. He must have had a guilty conscience for not having spoken directly to the invisible fellow.