handicapped

This post is not a rant. It is not even a complaint (although it will probably be read as such). Instead, it is an observation that I still don't know how to wrap my mind around. And maybe I am ridiculous, but I think that point was established long ago. So, without further ado, let me recount my experience from five minutes ago.

It was a beautiful day at the _____ (insert "zoo" or "meat-market" here, either name is appropriate). Jessica was walking elatedly from the computer science building, her head held high after having completed a sound editing lab that involved making a commercial for Gretta's Garden Gnome Emporium. While walking towards the library amidst the throngs of people, a young man who was also walking in the same direction noticed that Jessica was entering the library as well. Though she didn't expect him to hold the door open for her (after all, some young men are too busy for chivalrous deeds), she was rather surprised that he slowed down his pace as he neared the door. But instead of holding the door open for her, he used the handicap button. Jessica, who was neither in a wheelchair nor using crutches nor limping because of some debilitating foot fungus didn't know what to say. So she said nothing As she walked up the stairs to her favorite floor of the library, she wondered whether or not she should have said, "Thank you for pushing the handicap button for me. Though it wasn't necessary, and a simple holding-open-of-the-door would have been nice, I appreciate your chivalrous gesture. You are a champion."

And this is where my story ends and my observation begins. THE HANDICAP BUTTON?!? SERIOUSLY? I know it's not a statement on my physical appearances or abilities (unless, of course, there is something that no one has told me concerning what I can and can't do (and please also take note that even though I can open doors, I honestly and truly appreciate it when young men/boys/real men hold open the door for me. I think it is neat)), but I'm just trying to figure out if that was a cop-out or a true exhibition of politeness and respect.

In a previous day and age, doors automatically opening would have been seen as magic. Maybe I need to have that attitude. After all, he could have slammed that door in my face. But the handicap button? That leaves me scratching the impish and now-nonexistent whiskers on my chinny chin chin.

Okay. I am ridiculous. But still. Despite his kind gesture, I can't help but wonder... How much more effort does it take to just open the door?