Insurance companies are run by Satan's minions. What goes around comes around, people.
Administrators don't retain poker faces when you cheerfully just happen to mention when they attempt to blame you for "miscommunication" that you have saved years worth of email as documentation of a particular issue. A potential attorney, on the other hand, is gleeful about several inches worth of paper documentation.
Other people with disabilities are very happy about the changes to the restroom doors and that they no longer need pain medicine after opening them, which makes the requester happy, too. Husbands will get into trouble if they joke in front of your coworkers, "look at all the changes they're making for you," when the building has been out of compliance since ADA and other people don't get ADA and think that all the changes might be mostly for you only.
People stress out when they're standing in line at the deli and they, bored, glance around, and you're there, in the scooter, and they're afraid that they're staring, though they've just glanced, so they look away in the opposite direction, really fast. Okay, breathe, normal human interaction is okay, people.
Some kids like wasabi peas. Wasabi-loving kid will shoot you a sharp look for using "that" in the house in front of her friends, though her friends aren't paying any attention at all. One of friend's parents who is normally very conversational can barely make eye contact/speak with you.
Another kid might worry that you might embarrass yourself to use the scooter at their school on Valentine's Day. And when you ask why, the kid will say that you're a disability person and not many people are disability persons, and you start to worry if they're embarrassed.
That rash that made you think, "oh, textbook meningitis rash" when you woke up this morning? Well, now it increasingly itches, and though you don't have a fever and the infection you've had is getting better, it really does look like a meningitis rash, and you wonder if you should worry and whether, if you go to the doctor tomorrow, he will have his "you worry too much" reaction or his, "oh my god, why didn't you come in before" reaction. (The spots are called petechia, and the only time I've had them before was after respiratory problems during anesthesia, bursting blood vessels from inability to breathe.)
Dear Stupid Cheap Scooter,
You make my butt hurt.