Today, Don and I decided to visit a little restaurant near us for lunch, aptly named "Itty Bitty." It only seats 35 people, and I think that may be only if everyone weighs 120 or less.
Don opted to use his powerchair, since he's a bit weak to go far with his rollator. As we entered the place, there was a small table just inside the door to our right. That wouldn't work for Don. He didn't want the draft from the door. So, he chose a table on the other side of the room in the opposite corner. The place was crowded, so winding our way across the floor was an adventure. Don thought he would get behind the table, back to the window, facing the crowd -- so he began his grueling route. When he started through, there wasn't enough room between the neighboring table and the one he had chosen for us. After he had knocked the table about three inches in one direction and then the other, a voice piped up, "I don't think that table's supposed to be movable!" Man, was my face red!
He finally got himself situated, we ordered, ate, and made as hasty a retreat as is possible in a crowded room maneuvering a powerchair. You've heard of a bull in a china shop?