THE OTHER DAY I encountered a wheelchair Nazi in Walmart. Actually, it was one of those motorized, sit-down shopping carts. The operator was an old woman who was stopped in the middle of a long, back aisle, one of those aisles off of which many other, shorter aisles proceed. She was talking to a clerk who was stocking the shelf. Between the two of them, it was impossible to get by. They both ignored me.

What I was after was an item in the aisle just behind this woman. If I couldn't get past her, I would need to turn right, go down the length of that aisle, turn left, then turn left down the aisle where my item was. I would be walking the length of two aisles instead of about 10-12 feet from where she blocked my progress.

"Excuse me," I said.

Neither woman showed any sign of responding.

"EXCUSE ME!"

The clerk still ignored me but the old lady finally looked toward me, clearly put out that I was rude enough to break into their conversation.

"People these days," she hissed to the clerk, "are always in such a hurry."

"I'm not in a hurry, lady," I said. "I'd just like to get on with my shopping, but you are blocking the aisle."

Grudgingly, she motored forward and out of my way. It was as if I was committing some kind of offense against a disabled person although, for all I know, she was riding in this contraption because she was fat and had bad knees, or because she didn't feel like walking and pushing a cart.

I have seen people before in Walmart riding these motorized carts up and down the aisles. They are the ultimate distracted drivers, rounding corners blindly and moving along as they stare at the shelves. One gets in their way at one's peril. It is almost as if they think they're driving one of those bumper cars at the fair.

"Get out of my way!" they seem to say. "Move...watch it!"

Thinking about them leaving Walmart and getting behind the wheel of a car is enough to make me look for where they keep the antacids.