I am in my wheelchair and going down the sidewalk. I go to a building and take a sealed envelope in. It is crowded and not easy to get around, so I go to a man who works there who is typing things. I interrupt him and say, "I want to turn this in. It's that scratch sheet or questionnaire thing." He takes it and I say, "It's not too accessible here." He looks around; he's a very busy man. I say, "I've been here for concerts before and it is hard to get around." He is trying to figure out how I can get in, as the tables are all set up in a huge square in this gym-like room. I say, "It's OK, it really is accessible, but I don't want to be there" (for whatever boring event it is), I just brought the paper by. I leave and go home. As I enter, a small boy is standing behind a large dog, a Great Dane kind. He is pulling on his back legs as the dog is eating his dinner. It looks like he is humping the dog, but he isn't. I laugh. I hear the teen kids talking about football practice, they love it, twice a week, and how they can get their mother out of the house or otherwise engaged when the football kids come so she won't embarrass them. She doesn't like or understand football.