There’s the usual fear of not having your tray table in the upright and locked position, and then there’s the general anxiety attack caused by having to use a tray in everyday situations. For instance, when you eat at a fast food restaurant and they ask if this is for here or to go. And then if you say for here, they pull out a tray and pile all your artery-clogging crap on it. And then you’re sitting there with just two arms and an imbalanced tray.
Maybe if I had four arms and a balanced tray I could pull this off. For those of you who are scoffing at my inability to accomplish this task, obviously I was never a server at a restaurant. I am now forced to carry what to me seems to be an absurd weight-balance of items over to the soda (aka pop to Kansas Citians) dispenser. There I have to somehow hold the tray in one hand, pick up the cup with the other, and then miraculously use another hand to press the fill button. And then I have to wedge a lid on the whole thing and proceed to a table all without losing my lunch.
This does not seem simple to me. Therefore, I freak out over trays. Trays are unacceptable under any circumstance. I will declare “to go” no matter what. Give me a bag that I can carry around with my teeth and that will allow me to devote the full use of my arms to my drink. Drinks are very important to me. They provide the caffeine that staves off my headaches. Now I should start planning for the event that trays are the only choice (for instance, at buffets). I might need to enroll in a ballet class, or maybe yoga. I anticipate I will not be able to grow another arm and that I might need to bring in the use of a leg. If I’m super bendy, I might be able to press the fill button with my toe. I’m sure this will not bother anyone in the least. Yoga here I come. You can never be too safe.
The Fretful Mother's Blog 
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