How many in your party?

Take row six.

Row six? The top row, two steps up? Why not the front row with the handicap rails? I pinched my face at the Walt Disney World employee.

For the first time since I sailed off the ski jump that dislocated my hip and shattered my femur, someone overlooked the bulky 1920s Polio wheelchair that made my mangled left leg a jousting weapon and reclined back so far waiters and elderly people spoke slowly to me.

The employee had already moved on before I could ask to trade seats, so I transferred to my crutches. As I wobbled over to the doorway of the haunted elevator ride called Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, the other guests in line behind me rolled their eyes. After waiting an hour I knew no one wanted to wait another five minutes for the cripple to load, so I lurched my right leg onto the first step. But as I started to swing my crutches up by my sides, I realized the step was too narrow.

One metal crutch clanged out of the ride car, followed by the other, then me.

I should’ve taken the warning seriously.

We invite you, if you dare, to step aboard because in tonight’s episode you are the star. And this elevator travels directly to… Pain, discouragement, and strangers snapchatting pictures of you sprawled faced-down on the floor. Or something like that.

For a moment I didn’t move. I just took deep breaths, evaluating my situation and trying not to cry.

But I cried. Mostly from the pain in my already broken leg but also because a crowd of gasping and pointing people had just seen up my skirt.

No one asked if I was okay, not even the gawking employees. My dad picked me up like a kid with a skinned knee and my mom propped up my crutches. And even then I was denied the handicap seat in favor of a perfectly ambulatory person who simply wanted the front row. But I didn’t walk out the Chicken Door. I brushed off my elbows, fixed my mascara, took some Tylenol, and hopped back in line.

Because I’m 18 years old. Because I’m a high school graduate. I have to prepare myself the best I can and change strategies when the unpredictable happens. I don’t get an extra credit assignment because I failed. I don’t get extra time on a test because I’m slower. And just because I think I know how to land a ski jump or crutch up a staircase, doesn’t mean I do.

Life after graduation is like Disney’s Twilight Zone Tower of Terror – it features “unexpected high-speed drops into a dark mysterious realm.” And sometimes unexpected means before you even buckle your safety strap.